“Good. Me, too.” He broke from her but lay close on his side. An arm hung round her waist, hooking their bodies together, maintaining their link. A soothing finger toyed with her belly button, rounding in and out of the shallow indentation.

He loomed like an ominous mountain chain next to her, and she couldn’t help but admire the compact definition of his shoulders and the corded grooves between each ripple of muscles. Solid everywhere, even while relaxed. He was a warrior’s warrior. It made her mouth water.

Colby rolled off the bed. An icy earthquake wicked across her skin. He lumbered toward the bathroom, stretching his arms high overhead, making every muscle from his neck to his ass flex. Her lungs hurt, and only then did she realize she forgot to breathe.

His body was of a caliber that action movie heroes aspired to attain. He leaned over the bathroom sink, twisted the faucet on, and covered his face. After a second splash of water, he let it run, steam rising, framing his profile. Hinged at the waist, folded arms resting on the bathroom counter, he hung his head lax in the flickering bathroom light.

Uh-oh. That wasn’t a good stance.

That seemed a whole lot like regret. And she wouldn’t handle his remorse well. He’d gone hot and cold on her before. She didn’t expect it then, and she didn’t now. What was that saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

She stared at the ceiling again. Maybe he realized he was stuck with her until Virginia. The one night stand that he couldn’t leave. Whoopsie. Sorry about your luck, Rambo.

“Why are you here with me, Mia?” His head still hung over the running water.

She’d called it, and here it came. He would push her away, his repentance bubbling to the surface like a hot spring. It was so dang cliché. She kept a laugh to herself and pressed her lips flat.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not the clingy type.” She didn’t want to play the bedroom equivalent of Twenty Questions.

“Christ, Mia. That’s not what I meant.” He tilted his head toward her, raking his eyes across her face. He looked mad, or was that annoyance?

“Well then, Colby, what did you mean?” Sarcasm wasn’t her friend right now, but the snarky shake of her head said otherwise. “That type of question. Your timing. It’s clear to me. No need to backpedal.”

“I meant why haven’t you called the cops? Why are you okay with everything that’s happened so far? Asking why you’re here wasn’t supposed to be an inquisition until you made it one.”

The heck with his interrogation retreat. He knew the answer. There was one reason he was so sure she’d go with him, forcefully or not, in the first place.