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He was still reeling a little from the fact that she really had been a virgin and what she’d told him about her traumatic experience. It had roused the kind of protectiveness he’d only ever felt for one other person—his mother.
One cheek was down on the bed, red hair tumbled and wild across the pillow. Her lashes created a dark shadow on her cheek and her mouth was in a little moue, as if pouting for something in her sleep. His body tightened to think of her pouting for him.
Resisting the urge to slide back in beside her, he left the room silently and went to his office. He made straight for the drinks cabinet, pouring himself some whisky, and took an indelicate gulp, hoping that the alcohol might burn away some of the after-effects of that strange feeling of not being in his own skin any more.
He’d been shocked to return from Rome and find her so upset. At first he’d thought it was just feminine pique that he’d left her alone—which he lambasted himself for now—but it hadn’t been. It had been rooted in a far deeper and more traumatic place.
He’d known that there was little love lost between her and her parents but had had no idea it stemmed from such wilful neglect. Even now Gianni could feel an ominous tightening in his chest. And anger at her parents.
This whole relationship was veering way out of control. He’d imagined something far more clinical and less complicated. A wife who would be content with his wealth and status. A wife who would enhance his public reputation. A wife who would be happy to be getting on with her own concerns, leaving him to get on with his.
A wife who wouldn’t ever provoke hot emotions and an even hotter lust. Or uncharacteristic behaviour—like when he’d taken off to Rome, feeling the need to get away from her constant provocation.
Gianni didn’t do high drama or hot, out of control passion. He’d vowed not to let his life be at the mercy of such vagaries after his experiences growing up, and yet here he was, brimming over with the kind of wayward feelings he thought he’d locked away after his father had died.
This marriage was a business transaction. And he had to remember that, and make sure Keelin remembered it too. She’d been a virgin, and the last thing he needed was to become the object of some romantic ideal because he’d been her first. He could never fulfil her in that way, physically yes, but not romantically.
* * *
When Keelin woke she frowned. She felt different somehow. Muscles ached. She was naked. Between her legs was tender. And then she remembered what had happened and a wave of heat washed over her. She opened her eyes. The arms that had been around her were gone.
Gianni.
The bed was empty. She felt a mixture of relief
and something else she didn’t want to identify, telling herself it wasn’t disappointment. The faintest streaks of dawn lit the sky outside. She came up on her elbows, wincing slightly when her body protested.
She went to the en suite and looked at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were huge and a little bit dazed. Her mouth looked swollen. Her jaw was slightly red from Gianni’s stubble. And that brought back the memory of him thrusting up, deep inside her. So deep that she hadn’t been able to catch her breath for a moment.
She’d never known that sex could be so amazing.
She pulled on a voluminous robe from the back of the bathroom door and went back out to the bedroom and sat on the bed. Everything was coming back in perfect recall now. It hadn’t been some torrid dream. She’d slept with Gianni. She’d told him she wanted him.
What also came back was that funny smile he’d given her. The tension behind it. And a wave of hot mortification washed up through her. She’d been a virgin. Totally gauche and inexperienced. She’d thought it was amazing. But to Gianni, it must have been the most boring lovemaking experience of his life.
It was even worse when she recalled his entreaties, the way he’d so patiently pushed her over the edge, and all the while he must have been regretting the moment he’d ever agreed to this marriage.
The fact that he’d been so tender only made it worse now. Keelin wanted to cringe but also wanted to see him immediately, and somehow make him believe that last night hadn’t been as earth-shattering as it really had.
He wasn’t in any of the other bedrooms and she hated that she immediately feared that he’d left her alone again. Then she went down the stairs and saw a sliver of light coming from under his office door, and something in her chest eased. She pushed it open and saw him, bare-chested, hair tousled, scowling at something on his computer.
He looked up and she saw the unmistakable way some smooth expression blotted out the quick flash of his unguarded response to seeing her.
She stood stiffly by the door. ‘Hey.’
Gianni leaned back in the chair, displaying his broad chest without even trying. Keelin’s lower body pulsed in reaction.
‘Hey,’ he responded.
She could see that he was wearing sweatpants slung low on his hips, and there was something intensely sexy about this undone Gianni. A little redundantly she noted, ‘You’re working?’ Because he couldn’t wait to get away from her?
‘Just catching up on some things.’
He stood up then and Keelin’s mouth dried. He’d woken her body from a deep slumber and she could feel it respond helplessly, firming, moistening. Her breasts felt tight, nipples hard, pushing against the thick material of the robe.
Gianni walked over and stopped just in front of her. ‘How are you feeling?’
Damn him for being so solicitous. It made her even more sure that he had to have been bored rigid with his virginal wife.
