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"Then why? It was just getting good."
"Aye, it was." I rest my hands on her hips. "Losing control is not my strong suit."
"On the contrary, you excel at shedding your inhibitions."
I rub a hand over my jaw while I gaze into the far corner of the room. "I don't normally behave like a randy virgin." One corner of my mouth twists downward. "Until last night. Twice I've lost control with you, and twice I…didnae want to stop."
"Why did you stop? If you liked it."
"Told ye. Cannae abide a loss of control." I grasp her waist and hoist the lass off my lap, setting her down beside me. No, I can't understand my behavior with Emery. And it…unsettles me. Time to change the subject. I glance at her ComicCon T-shirt. "We should get you to your hotel. You must want a change of clothes."
"Yeah, I would."
With one finger, I trace the outline of the logo on her shirt. Earlier, after I'd ordered our breakfast, Emery had attempted to explain ComicCon to me. Being a bloody foolish erse, I first tried to define it myself based on the evidence before me.
"Is it a gathering of comedians?" I'd asked.
"Not that kind of comic." She had wandered to the pool table, running her fingers over the felt surface in an almost erotic manner. "It started out as a convention for fans of comic books, but these days it includes various kinds of popular culture not directly related to comics. Sci-fi and fantasy are popular topics. And there's a cool contest for masquerade costumes."
I couldn't stop my lip from curling. "Costumes? I cannae fathom why grown men and women want to dress up in silly outfits."
She smiled. "Everybody could use a bit of silly in their life."
I'm fair certain I pulled a face, a not entirely polite one, then I'd straightened my spine. "Do you wear costumes?"
"On Halloween and at ComicCon, yes." Emery sighed as if she were recalling her past escapades that involved costumes. "At the office party, my co-workers gave me a rinky-dink certificate declaring my costume the sexiest and skimpiest of all."
"Sexy and skimpy?" My voice came out huskier, probably because I was envisioning her in an outfit that barely covers her sensitive regions.
"Absolutely. Halloween is my favorite holiday because dressing up is so much fun." She stroked her fingers over the crimson felt of the pool table. "If you're super nice to me, I might show you photos of my costumes."
I swallowed hard because my cock wanted to see those photos. "You place a high value on fun, don't you?"
"Sure do." She had grabbed the eight ball then, rolling it between her palms while she leaned a hip against the table. "I'm getting the impression you don't."
"It's a waste of time."
Christ, did I sound like a sodding ersehole? Of course I did. But I honestly don't see the appeal of doing ridiculous things to entertain myself. Law journals provide all the enjoyment I need.
Which might be part of my problem.
Emery touched the eight ball to her cheek, nuzzling it. "What's your favorite thing to do? Favorite in the whole wide world?"
"Work."
Her jaw fell open. "You've got to be kidding."
"No." Desperate to spare her the depressing knowledge of what I'm really like, I had let my mouth slide into a suggestive smirk. "Fucking is a close second."
"Only second?" She set the eight ball on the table. "Seems to me that ought to be first on your list. I mean, you were so into it last night."
"Yes, but work is my passion."
And there I went again, saying things that serve to convince her I'm a boring, lifeless ersehole. So what if she does think that?
"That is so sad," she had told me as she flicked her finger to set the eight ball rolling across the felt. "Why are you in New Orleans? Business?"
"I'm visiting an American friend who's in the same line of work."
