Surrender by Tawny Taylor Page A

happened last night. Had I really been that tired that I had fallen so deeply asleep I hadn’t woken when we’d come upstairs?
    “Why would you want to sleep in your clothes?” Kameron asked. “That couldn’t be comfortable.”
    “Because . . .” My face was so hot I was afraid it might blister.
    “Do you always sleep in your clothes?” Kameron’s shoulders were bare. So was his chest. Clearly he didn’t sleep in his work clothes either.
    “No, but . . .”
    His lips curled up a tiny bit. “Are you ashamed that I undressed you?”
    “Yes!”
    He grinned. “Now, we’ve gotten to the bottom of things. No pun intended.” His gaze flicked to roughly my groin region.
    I lifted the sheets just enough to peer beneath them again and glowered. “You couldn’t have left my underwear on?”
    He shrugged, stretched. “I was thinking of your comfort.”
    “R-r-r-right.” I tried to keep the glower going while secretly marveling at how glorious his unclothed chest and stomach looked when he moved that way.
    Wow.
    Another question popped into my head, and a chill buzzed through me in its wake. “Did we. . . . ?”
    “Have sex? No. But not for lack of trying.” His grin amped up a notch. “On your part, not mine.”
    “What are you saying?”
    “I’m saying you practically begged me.”
    “So, why didn’t you?”
    His shrug was very nonchalant. “Because you didn’t say please.”
    Was he kidding? Really? Because I didn’t say please?
    What was I thinking? I wouldn’t ask him to have sex with me! He was lying.
    He let his head fall forward, rolling it from side to side. “I’m stiff. This bed isn’t the best. I think I’ll replace it.”
    Shaking my head, I tried to sort through what had really happened last night. Things just weren’t adding up. “Speaking of that, don’t you have a bed of your own?”
    “Sure.” He tipped his head to the right. Cracked his neck.
    “Why didn’t you sleep in it?” I challenged.
    “Because you begged me to stay with you. And you did say please.”
    What a lie! “I did not.”
    “You most certainly did.” He crossed his arms over his chest. The sheet was draped across his body, covering only part of him, from just below his belly button to his knees.
    “How could I beg you to do anything? I was . . . wait a minute. Was I talking in my sleep?”
    He shrugged. “I didn’t ask. When we arrived here at the condo, I couldn’t rouse you. So I carried you in and set you in the bed. While I was undressing you, you begged, pleaded, for me to stay with you.” He paused for a moment. “Now that I think about it, you were mumbling. And maybe your eyes were closed. But I thought that was because the light was bothering you.”
    “I can’t believe I slept through all of that,” I mused, still unsure whether I believed that was what had really happened. “I’ve never slept that soundly before. Normally a tiny sound will wake me.”
    Once again, he shrugged. “You didn’t have any alcohol to drink. Perhaps you were exhausted?”
    “Yes, I was, but I’ve been that tired before and still remembered what I did the next day.”
    “How can you be sure you remembered, if you were sleeping?”
    “Because I didn’t wake up in bed with a man.”
    That argument didn’t seem to convince him. “Did you take any medications?” he asked. “Maybe something to help you travel? I have a friend who takes medication for airsickness. That stuff knocks him on his ass for days.”
    “No, I don’t get airsick.” I tried to search the hazy memories of the previous night. The last thing I remembered was sitting in the car, feeling very sleepy. Unusually sleepy. Unnaturally sleepy.
    Then, I remembered the aspirins. “I took aspirin. For a headache. But aspirin shouldn’t knock me out.”
    “Are you sure it was aspirin?”
    “Yes. I don’t keep them in a bottle. I always carry a few in a baggy. Takes up less space in my purse.” My head spun when I sat upright. I blinked,