Page 208 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

‘Don’t do that.’ Her voice was hoarse when she answered and her eyes shimmered with a heat that he wanted to immerse himself in. ‘Don’t try to make me out to be the problem here. This was your idea. You’re not going to make me responsible for your lack of forward planning.’

He stared at her, his teeth on edge. It wasn’t lack of forward planning that had brought them to this moment, but arrogance and past experience. To put it another way, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had not wanted to share his bed because there had never been one.

‘Look, the bed is big enough that we don’t have to interact.’

His body tensed painfully as his brain began to offer up a slideshow of several possible permutations of what interacting with Sydney might look like.

‘It’s not just the size of the bed. It’s the fact that you’ll be in it. There isn’t going to be an “interaction” of that sort between us.’ Wide brown eyes accompanied that dismissive statement, but the sudden splashes of high colour on her cheeks told a different story and he remembered that shimmering, explosive moment they’d shared in his office back in New York.

She was stubborn, almost as stubborn as he was. She was also out of her depth and she didn’t have his stamina for fighting her corner. More importantly, he could see her pulse hammering against the pale skin on her throat and that glitter in her eyes.

‘Nothing is going to happen. Unless you want it to,’ he added, because he could still remember her soft, stunned gaze and the way her fingers had splayed against his arm. And he was also arrogant enough to assume that she would be no different from any other women in his life.

Her pupils flared. ‘Then I hope you enjoy waiting because I will never want you.’

Wrong, he thought, and he wanted to prove that, to yank her against him and finish what had started in his office. Instead, he took a step closer, close enough that he could see her pulse fluttering down her throat.

‘And I hope you enjoy sleeping on the right side of the bed, but if you don’t, then I’m afraid you’ll have to choose between the floor, the couch or the bathtub because while you’re here with me, this is your bedroom, and this subject is now closed.’

She stared up at him in silence, and he felt a tick of irritation.

‘Right, I suggest we go and get something to eat.’ What now? He broke off, frowning as she shook her head.

‘I don’t want anything to eat. I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.’

‘You can’t go to sleep,’ he said impatiently. ‘It’s only four p.m. in New York. Plus, you’ve missed a meal.’

‘I don’t care.’ There was strain in her voice now but with that same storm in her eyes as before. ‘I want to go to sleep.’

‘Fine. Have it your way. Just don’t blame me when you wake up and can’t get back to sleep, because that’s what will happen. And when it does, I suggest you think long and hard about how you’re going to make this arrangement between us work. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to take your chances with the police, which, frankly, I wouldn’t recommend, but given you seem determined to do the opposite of whatever I suggest, knock yourself out.’

Sydney held her breath as Tiger spun round and stalked past her, and the walls shuddered as he slammed the door behind him, and then it was over. He was gone.

She was alone.

She was shaking inside. Not from fear any more, although it was not fear of him but of the idea of sharing a bed with a stranger. Now, though, she felt frustrated. He was impossible. Unreasonable. Thoughtless. And she was stupid for thinking this could ever work.

And for not thinking about the possible sleeping arrangements for their week together. How had she not thought about that?

Mainly because back in New York, and even on the way over to the island, she had been trying so hard to believe that none of this was happening that she hadn’t allowed herself to think that far. Her eyes fixed on the bed. Because if she’d thought about ‘this’ she would never have been able to do what was needed.

As she stared at the bed, her mouth felt suddenly dry. It was a very big bed but the idea of sharing it with Tiger made her heart thud painfully hard inside her chest. What did he wear in bed? And what if they moved while they were sleeping and ended up touching?

That moment in his office reared up inside her, shimmering bright and tactile, and she was flushed with the heat of it, skin tingling, breasts aching and heavy. No, she thought, her pulse scrambling for a footing. That wasn’t real. Whatever she had felt then was just a combination of gravity and panic and proximity.

Wasn’t it?

And then, quite suddenly, she felt tired, the have-to-sit-down-before-I-fall-down kind of tired that made thinking impossible. She needed to sleep, and now, and, walking over to the bed, she pulled back the cover and climbed in, her eyes closing like shutters as her brain powered down to silence.

Tiger had been right, Sydney thought four hours later as she woke in the darkness and stared blearily at the time on her phone screen. It was three a.m.

Three a.m. here but nine p.m. in New York, which was no doubt why she had never felt more wide awake. Or hungrier.

Except that wasn’t true. There had been frequent days with Noah when food had been a privilege, not a right.

But Noah wasn’t here. Nor was Tiger. She had known that maybe even before her eyes had snapped open. Which must mean he had decided to sleep in another room. She felt what must be relief only it felt oddly almost like disappointment. Or hunger, she told herself firmly as her stomach rumbled loudly. She reached over to switch on the bedside lamp and she sat up, blinking into the light.

Why was she so hungry? They had eaten lunch and had cakes and coffee in the afternoon, but not enough, apparently.