He lay flat and utterly still. She could feel his heart still racing in tune with hers, but other than that, he wasn’t moving. “Did I kill you?” she whispered.

Eyes still closed, his lips curved. “Very nearly.”

Good. That made them even. With her body still quivering, she slipped off him to her side and sighed with a bone-deep pleasure. “That should be a required bedtime activity.”

“Agreed. Every single night.” He still didn’t move, and she didn’t mind because the sight of him sprawled there on his back, arms and legs wide, was like a vacation for her senses.

“Pace?”

“Hmm.”

“Did that do it?”

He sighed and blindly reached out a hand for hers, stroking a finger over her palm. “Get you out of my system? No. Not even close.”

She felt herself relax, as if she wasn’t relaxed enough. “I have another question.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed her palm. “Shock.”

She smiled, but it faded readily enough. “You definitely need surgery?”

His hand went still in hers.

“I’m taking that as a yes. Why didn’t you tell me?” She paused, and when he didn’t speak, she did. “I figure it’s one of two things. Either it slipped your mind, or you didn’t trust me with it.”

He opened his eyes, stared up at the ceiling, and sighed. “It was neither.”

In all the time she’d spent with him, he always seemed so big, so utterly invincible. Lying next to his tough, built body now, suddenly, she saw something else.

A hollowness, and a vulnerability.

And right then and there, her heart melted. Not good, but apparently she couldn’t control her own heart any more than she could control him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “So damn sorry—”

“Don’t.” His voice was low, rough. “I can’t take the pity, I’ll—” He shook his head. “Just don’t. Please, don’t.”

She wanted to hug him. Wanted to make it better and couldn’t. “When?”

“When did I find out? The minute I did it in New York. I knew.”

“I meant the surgery.”

“Day after tomorrow.”

She let out a breath, some of the tension he’d just gotten rid of for her coming right back. “You didn’t tell me because you think I’m the press leak. That, or you thought I’d blog about it.” Either way, a shitty realization.

“It’s bad enough that the rumors turned out to be true.” Turning his head, he met her gaze with his own. “I didn’t want to face it.”

She opened her mouth to tell him that she wouldn’t have repeated it, but nothing came out. Because the truth was, there’d been times in her life where little had been more important than the story she’d been telling, nothing more critical than dispensing the facts, without much concern for the aftermath.

Or people’s feelings.

And that, she realized, made her cold, and maybe just a little bit hard.

With a low exhale, Pace turned on his side and settled a big hand on her hip. His hair was disheveled, his eyes dark and sleepy and damn sexy.

And he had a bite mark on his neck. She’d done that.

“I can hear the wheels spinning,” he said softly.

“You don’t trust me, but you slept with me.”

“I’d like to point out the definite lack of sleeping.”

“Pace.”

He drew a deep breath, which filled his chest, which in turn brushed against her ni**les, making them tight and achy all over again. Pace’s gaze locked in on one of them, his hand drifted up her ribs, and he lightly ran the backs of his fingers over her nipple, watching it pucker up even more. “It’s not a matter of trust.”

“It most definitely is.”

“Okay, it is.” He lifted his gaze to her. “I like you, Holly. I like you a whole lot.”

“But you still don’t trust me.”

He didn’t say anything for several beats. “I don’t trust easily. You might recognize that little issue.” He looked at her, seeing that she did, and nodded. “Yeah. But I can tell you this. I want to be able to trust you.”

“Did you pick a fight in that New York hotel just so I’d leave you alone with your misery?”

“Yes.”

The easy, ready admission should have made her feel better, but it didn’t.

“Look, Holly, I realize my work is public. I also realize I should be used to my life being the same, but I’m not.”

That much she believed. “So what’s going to happen?”

“I’m on the DL for fifteen days minimum, to be reassessed after surgery. That news will hit soon enough.”

She settled her fingers on his chest, felt the warmth radiating through him, the stable and sure beat of his heart. She met his steady gaze and let out a breath. “I meant what’s going to happen between us.”

He just looked at her, and suddenly feeling extremely naked, both physically and mentally, she rolled to her belly to get out of the bed. She nearly escaped before he caught her, wrapping his fingers around her hip. “What are you doing?” she asked with remarkable calm and a good amount of attitude as he easily kept her pinned, even without the use of his right arm.

“Wondering where you’re going.”

“To get dressed. And you’re leaving, by the way. I no longer sleep with people who don’t trust me. It’s a new thing. Call it a self-improvement.”