Tell Me a Secret (The Story Series Book 4) by Tamara Lush

awkward?
    Maybe it wouldn’t. My mind lulled into a half-sleep and drifted to Colin’s kiss, the way he’d softly nuzzled my neck and ran his tongue around the rim of my ear. Maybe we’d had a true spark the other night. I allowed myself a moment of fantasy, starting with Colin’s sensual kisses in the bar and forgetting about our sloppy attempt at sex in the room. Would those kisses have turned into much more if we’d been sober?
    It had felt so damned good that night in Miami to be wanted by someone who looked a little like my husband. Who sounded like my husband. Who whispered kind and sexy things to me right when I was at my neediest. I longed for someone to nuzzle my neck, play with my hair, caress my breasts.
    I also wanted to be fucked hard and well.
    The distant sound of my phone ringing in the kitchen made me jump up and race to answer. I didn’t want Charlotte to wake. I shut the nursery door gingerly.
    “Hello,” I said in a hushed voice.
    “It’s the concierge. Mr. Colin King is here to see you. Shall I send him up?”
    Oh shit.
    “Yes, please do.”
    I raced into the bedroom to strip off my Minnie Mouse sleep shirt with spit-up on the shoulder and threw on a pair of clean, pink silk pajamas. Why the hell was Colin stopping by at eight on a Monday night?
    I heard the elevator doors slide open and padded out to greet him.
    “Hey,” I said, aware my voice was creaky and awkward.
    He was in a dark blue suit, looking like he’d stepped off a Milan runway. The way his clothes fit his tall body made my mind go temporarily blank. He grinned, and his light blue eyes shimmered as they fixed, unblinking, on me. My heartbeat skipped a little. I smoothed my curls with my hand and felt my nipples poke against the silk of my top.
    Those reactions were pure biology, I reminded myself. Not real emotion.
    “Hi. I brought this for you.” He reached into his pocket and took out my necklace. It looked clunky and cheap next to the Piaget on his wrist. Because it was.
    “Thanks.” I laughed nervously and took it from him, making sure our fingers didn’t touch, then clasped it around my neck. I thought about my underwear in the hotel room and pressed a hand to my chest as if to hold in the embarrassment.
    “I was worried you’d left the necklace in the room or you’d thrown it away or given it to the maid or something.”
    He scowled and spoke in a clipped tone. “I wouldn’t do that, Emma.”
    “No. Of course not. Hey, um, you want something to drink?”
    He shook his head, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. This clearly was as awkward for him as it was for me. His phone rang. He squinted and held up a finger as he answered.
    “Lourdes, I can’t talk tonight,” he murmured. “No, probably not the weekend, either. I’ve got family stuff to deal with. Yeah. Maybe next week. No, I won’t be in Miami until then. I’ll call you when I return.” He hung up. “Sorry.”
    I shrugged, and a little pang of irrational jealousy shredded my earlier fantasy around the edges. “Hey, I’m the sorry one. Sorry about the other night,” I said, sinking into the sofa, wondering if he’d hooked up with Lourdes before or after our night together. The thought made me feel even cheaper.
    He eased next to me and shook his head. “I’m not sorry.”
    “You’re not?” My eyes went wide.
    “No. We did what came natural to us. It was actually very excellent and balanced. And maybe we could see how it goes from here.” He shot me a little smile and blinked lazily. “You know…without the gin and whiskey.”
    I pushed out a breath. “Well, it makes me feel guilty. Like I’ve moved on too quick from your brother when I haven’t—”
    His phone chirped, interrupting us, and he extracted it from his pocket.
    Another woman’s name popped up on the screen, and he shut it off, then slid the device onto the coffee table. I watched him move with a controlled grace and tucked my legs under me, feeling uneasy, like an