I’d done it time and again.
Plenty of grief, plenty of heartbreak.
Plenty of techniques to pretend I had neither.
“That was good,” I said, not letting him coax another confession out of me. Magical cock was bad enough. He didn’t need to know about my sad-ass childhood, nor the various sad-ass things of my adulthood.
Hell, no one knew everything about all that happened.
Not Maggie. Though she knew parts.
The rest of it, I held closer, buried deeper. Because it was the only way I knew how to survive.
“Tammy,” he warned in that delicious raspy voice.
But I wasn’t weak. I wouldn’t give into that sexy order. Even though I really wanted to, had really enjoyed where it had taken me in the last thirty minutes.
I wound my arms around his shoulders, brought his mouth down to mine. “You do have a magical cock,” I murmured, and then I kissed him, wondering if I could distract him long enough to escape, how I could interrupt his inquisition and don some armor to protect myself from the man and my fantasies and my weak, desperate heart.
Footsteps.
I didn’t register them at first.
Not until they were coming closer. Closer.
I tore my lips free, breathing heavily, trying to listen over the sound of my pulse thrumming in my eardrums.
Talbot was in no better shape. His breaths puffed against my mouth as he said, “Tell me—”
And then I got my interruption.
Only . . . I wasn’t able to escape as Maggie strode into the bedroom. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me—oh my God!”
Chapter Eleven
Talbot
I whipped my head over my shoulder at the gasp, unwittingly exposing Tammy to Maggie’s gaze.
“Tammy?” she breathed then immediately clamped her hands over her eyes before spinning around and knocking into the doorframe as she fumbled her way out of the bedroom. “Oh, son of a paparazzo.”
A moment later, her arm reappeared, but not her body, as that almost disembodied limb reached for the knob, dragging the door shut.
Click.
Yeah, the first thing I could think was, Oh, son of a paparazzo.
Yeah, I’d stolen it from Maggie.
Yeah, it was apropos.
Tammy was shoving at my chest, and I pulled out, my cock still rock-hard. Despite the orgasm, it wasn’t nearly satisfied. I wasn’t nearly satisfied, especially when her lips formed a small little “O” as I left her body. Then she shoved up off the bed, digging her hands into her hair, a soft moan leaving her mouth. But not one of the soft, sexy moans she’d been making just a few minutes before.
No, this one was a soft sigh of misery.
“Hey,” I said, coming up next to her.
Another groan.
“Are you in pain?”
“Pain of embarrassment, maybe,” she muttered, finally lifting her hands from her face and looking up at me. “How much did she see?”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you it was more of me than you?”
Her face screwed up. “No, in fact, it wouldn’t.” She was quiet for a beat. “Okay, yes, it would.” Hazel eyes on mine. “My childhood bestie didn’t see my hoohaw?”
My lips twitched.
She swatted me.
“It’s not so bad,” I said. “It’s not the first time—”
Her fingers pressed to my lips. “I’m gonna stop you right there.”
I peeled her fingers free. “I was going to say, It’s not the first time Maggie has seen me naked.”
“I said, I don’t want to know.”
“However,” I said, being purposefully blithe as I continued, “This is the first time she’s caught me with a woman.”
“I’m so happy to be the first,” she muttered.
“My point is that there haven’t been any other women.”
“Pft.” She pushed to her feet. “Okay, sure.”
I stood, too. “Sweetheart.”
“So not your sweetheart,” she snapped.
God, I liked her fire. But also, I could give some back of my own. “I was inside you all of two minutes ago.” Her cheeks went pink. “So obviously, you’re something to me.”
“A quick fuck?”
My temper peaked, and I found myself whirling to face her, fury in my voice. “You’re more than that.”
Another “Pft.” Her lips pressing flat. “We met all of yesterday. Oh, and also, you being allowed inside my body doesn’t link us together in any way.”
The hell it didn’t.
The sex had been fan-fucking-tastic, but it wasn’t just a fucking orgasm. There was more here, something worth exploring, and I’d felt it the moment she’d confronted me in the garden.
But she was still talking. “And it certainly doesn’t obligate me to your continued presence.”
No, it didn’t.
Of course, it didn’t.
Except . . . every cell in my body rebelled with the thought of just letting her walk out of my life.
I took her hand. “You saved me.”
A scoff, drawing her hand away. “More hero-worship bullshit.”
“Tammy,” I said.
Her teeth closed with an audible click, and she yanked the blanket off the bed, wrapping it around her. “I’d take the warning out of your tone if I were you.”
My temper was still frayed, growing even more so by the moment, by this woman’s resistance to admitting that there was something between us, even if that something was just a slender thread of connection, a green bud in the first stages of unfurling. But I’d had plenty of experiences in my life dealing with recalcitrant actors, and certainly a lot of experience with stubborn ass co-stars.
Enough that I could keep my temper.
Barely.
But I could still keep hold of it.
And the Oscar goes to . . .
“Tammy,” I said, making doubly sure that there wasn’t any attitude or warning in my voice. In fact, I made sure that my tone was completely and absolutely even with no trace of order or anger. “Why don’t you take that shower? I’ll go handle Maggie.”
Her lips pressed flat, which was an absolute crime against humanity. But her eyes told me that she was going to protest, just because protesting would mean that she didn’t have to agree with me.
“Come on,” I cajoled lightly. “I’m sure you want to feel clean.”
I hustled to the bathroom to retrieve the waterproof cover, pausing
