And yet…a couple of hours ago, he’d slipped out of bed and left Isobel sleeping alone in his room because he hadn’t wanted to talk to her.
“Women,” he muttered, leaning on the railing at the bow of the Splendor Deck, letting his gaze slide over the shoreline of Acapulco, “always want to talk the morning after. Always have to analyze and pick apart everything you’d done and said the night before.”
But there was nothing to analyze, he reminded himself. He’d had her, just as he’d planned, and now he was through—also as he’d planned.
Of course his body tightened and his stomach fisted at the thought, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he’d had Isobel under him, over him, around him, and now he could let her go completely. No more haunted dreams. No more thinking about her at str
