Raindrops on Roses: Book One of the Favorite Things Trilogy Read Free Page B

Delicious. The
memory of their passionate lovemaking came back in a hot flash.
    Thoroughly flushed, she resisted the urge to
snuggle up against him. Her eyes snapped open in the darkness and
she saw him there, lying right next to her beneath the sheet.
    Michael, she thought dreamily, wanting him to be there
forever....
    But then a sobering thought hit and she shot
straight up in the darkness.
    Oh, Priscilla. She glanced over at him. Of course, now he thinks you're a first-class
slut .
    Slipping from the bed naked, she went
quietly to the bathroom and got into the shower, her favorite place
to think.
    What the hell? she shouted at herself. What's happening to you? Gran just died—and you don't
even know this
guy! Oh, my God...this makes you a slut of the highest order.
A real slut! You
met him standing over your grandmother's grave, for Christ's sake.
You drank circles around him and then branded yourself an easy
lay!
    What exactly had come over her? Once she'd
looked up into those hypnotic green eyes, there'd clearly been no
turning back. She couldn't even begin to understand the powerful
attraction toward Michael Frost the moment she laid eyes on him.
And she certainly couldn't deny that she'd wanted to be alone with
him almost immediately. He was an unexpected beacon of light in a
dark, dim tunnel of grief—even as he'd interrupted her final
farewell to her grandmother.
    And the impulsive invite
up to her bedroom? Well, she hadn't really thought that all the way
through, had she? Second thoughts were now racing through her brain
faster than she could keep up.
    But do you regret it?
    Memories of how he'd made love to her came
rushing back and she felt heat between her thighs.
    God, no , she thought as her nipples hardened.
    Still, she wanted to be out of the shower
and dressed before he woke up. There was no way she could see
herself getting back into the bed with him so she decided to lay on
the chaise in her sitting room, lick her self-inflicted wounds, and
wait.
    It's not like she could
just ditch him, right? After all, he was in her bedroom and in her bed...looking
deliciously like he belonged there.
    And—holy mother of
God! A chill shot up her spine. What if he sells this to the tabloids?
    Great! she thought. She could just hear her mother's rebukes
now: Oh, you've just exercised some
excellent judgment, young lady! Exactly what everyone needed the
day after burying your grandmother!
    When she left the shower, Michael Frost was
still fast asleep in her bed, snoring softly. She sprinted from the
bathroom and slipped into her closet to get dressed. Closing the
door, she flipped on the light and grabbed a pair of clean undies
from the island. She could barely hold her head up as she stepped
into them. Never in her life had she been this reckless, this
flakey—which made this lapse in judgment sting all the more.
    Tiptoeing to the closet doorway, she peeked
out at him where he lay in the bed.
    Those adorable, dark curls. The straight
lines of his nose and jaw. The kissable lips—and the places they
had just been.
    Blushing, Priscilla tore her eyes away.
    Okay. So. She would just have to put this
behind her and hit the reset button, but it would be hard. She'd
never felt this way about anyone so quickly, and she didn't like
what it said about her character—not to mention her
self-respect!
    No, no, no, she thought, standing taller. There's no way you can be a slut. You were just emotionally
charged—and a little drunk—and a hot guy was interested. That’s
all. This doesn't define you. It's not who you are.
    Once she got into her bra, she pulled on a
black tank top with a pair of black jeans. It seemed appropriate.
She was in mourning and felt like expressing it.
    She left the closet fully dressed and went
into the sitting room, where she curled up on the chaise, feeling
vaguely self-conscious and confused. She wondered if maybe she
should just wake him up now and send him on his way...
    A little while later, she