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He took her mouth as a flower, as the sweetest fruit. The most delicate flavour. The gentlest touch.
He was holding himself in absolute control. He knew it. Knew that this moment was precious, that it was of absolute importance that he not get it wrong this time. That this was the moment that could win him Flavia—or lose her for ever.
There would be no second chance. Not if he screwed it up now. Not if he rushed her too fast, allowed his needs to overwhelm hers.
Besides, he wanted this exquisite moment to last—to stand here beneath the stars and have her warm and pliant in his arms, as tender as the summer’s night that webbed about them. Just her and him—as if alone in all the world together.
Gently, delicately, tenderly, he explored the beauty of her mouth with his, has hands cradling her head, fingertips whispering through her hair. She was leaning into him, and he felt the soft wand of her body against his, felt himself responding.
He drew away a little, released her mouth, still cradling her upturned face. There was a dazed look in her eyes, and he found himself lowering his lips to graze each fluttering eyelid.
Then, with a breath, he let his fingers slip from her completely, standing away from her.
There was a puzzled look in her starlit eyes.
‘I got it wrong with you once before,’ he said, his voice low, his eyes searching hers. ‘I made assumptions—rushed you. This time—’ he took another scissoring breath ‘—I won’t do that. This time …’ He paused, making sure he got it right this time. ‘I don’t want you running from me.’ He paused again. ‘So I ask you now: if you would like to go back to London, back to your father’s apartment, I will escort you there and no further. But if you would like to stay here, at this hotel, in a room of your own, then that is what will happen. It will be exactly and only as you wish, Flavia.’
It had cost him to say what he had—but he knew he’d had to say it. Had to give her the space, the time she needed. For himself, all he ached to do was take her back in his arms, take her to a room, a bed, and finally possess her.
But this night had to be her choice, her choice alone, uninfluenced by him or anything else. Her free, untrammelled choice.
He let his eyes rest on her as she stood, swaying very slightly, as if being released from his hold on her had left her unsupported. He stood still—stock still. It was for her to make the next move—only her, not him. Even though it was taking every last ounce of self-control her possessed.
The expression in her eyes changed. She lifted her hand. Let her fingers graze the edge of his jaw. He had shaved before he had met
her, early in the evening, but now, at this midnight hour, he could feel her fingertips encountering the slight roughness of regrowth. Her touch was electric, and he could feel every muscle in his body tense.
She gazed up at him.
‘I don’t know why this is,’ she said, and her voice was still soft, still murmuring, but with a plaintive note in it, as though bemusement was infusing it. ‘I don’t know why—I only know that it is so. I only know …’ Now her fingertips were tracing, with the lightest touch, the line of his lips, and his jaw tensed with the effort not to do what every sensual instinct was pounding at him to do—to catch her with his mouth, fold her into him, his hands spanning her narrow waste, and with his lips lave the slowly questing tip of her slender finger. ‘I only know that I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here with you.’
His hand snaked to her wrist, drawing her hand slightly away from his face. ‘Are you sure—are you truly sure?’ There was an intensity in his voice, in his expression, that he could not mask. Would not mask. He would hide nothing from her—as she was hiding nothing from him. He was seeing the truth of her now. He knew absolutely. This was the woman he wanted—and she wanted him. No more masks, no more ice maiden, no more chilling reserve or holding him at bay with every word she spoke. This was the woman he wanted—here, now …
‘Yes …’ Her voice was a breath, an exhalation.
A promise.
He lowered his head to hers, kissing her mouth lightly, sweetly. Then he tucked her hand into his, never relinquishing it for a moment, and drew her against his side.
‘You’ll stay with me tonight?’ Leon’s voice was husked. He needed to be sure—absolutely sure.
Her answer was to lean into him, brushing her cheek against his shoulder. ‘Do you think,’ she mused, starlight glinting in the eyes uplifted to his, ‘a place like this might run to a four-poster bed?’
His mouth tugged in a smile that made Flavia’s already strong beating heart catch. He dropped a lingering kiss on her mouth.
‘Let’s go and find out,’ he said.
Hand in hand, they headed indoors.
The hotel did, indeed, have a double room with a four-poster bed. A huge one, draped in blue damask.
‘It’s beautiful!’ Flavia exclaimed, gazing around, taking in the panelled walls, the ornamental plastered ceiling, the thick carpets and the antique furniture, all dominated by the richly hung four-poster.
‘And so are you.’
The timbre of Leon’s voice sent a thrumming of electricity through her and she turned to face him. Emotion swelled through her. In the low-lit room his face was strongly featured, and she could see, blazing like a dark light in his eyes, the message of his desire for her.
‘Leon—’
