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Realising that she was still lying there, naked and mooning, Siena sat up and took advantage of Andreas disappearing into the bathroom to jump out and pull on her dress again, covering up. She noticed that one or two buttons were missing and blushed when she thought of Andreas’s big hands, fumbling until he’d become irritated and yanked it open. A small glow of pleasure infused her. Perhaps he wasn’t as insouciant as she thought?
Andreas reappeared, and Siena avoided looking at him buttoning his shirt and scooted into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She rested with her back against it for a moment, breathing in his provocative scent, then closed her eyes and tried to convince herself that she could get through this week and emerge at the other end unscathed and intact.
* * *
Andreas heard the shower running and imagined the water running in rivulets over Siena’s breasts and body. Arousal was instant and Andreas cursed, gave up trying to close a cufflink as if that was the problem.
He closed his eyes, but all he saw was how Siena had looked lying face down in the bed moments before, naked, arms stretched out, the curve of her breast visible. That stunning face looked somehow very innocent and young in repose, her mouth a soft moue.
Making love to her this time had had none of the madness of last night, but a different kind of insanity. Sliding into her body had felt disturbing—as if he was touching a part of himself that was buried deep. He’d never lost himself so much while making love to a woman that he literally became some kind of primal animal, able only to obey his body’s commands.
He’d expected that after making love to her he’d feel a steady beat of triumph. After all, this was exactly what he’d envisaged. Siena, naked and undone on his bed. Underneath him, begging for release.
r /> She’d cried just now, when they’d made love. Sobbed for him to let her go, to stop torturing her. And he didn’t like how her tears had affected him, making him feel guilty.
He’d been punishing her as much as himself, and when she’d finally tipped over the edge the strength of her orgasm had almost been too much for him to handle. He’d worn protection, but Andreas wouldn’t have been surprised if the strength of his release had rendered it impotent.
In truth he hadn’t expected sex to be this good with Siena. He’d expected her to be cool, distanced. Too concerned with how she looked to let herself be really sensual. Slightly uptight. And yet she was blowing his mind.
He heard the shower stop and suddenly felt a very uncustomary spurt of panic. He couldn’t guarantee that if she walked out of that bathroom right now he wouldn’t be able not to take her again and to hell with the opera.
Only one woman had ever entranced him so much that he’d deviated from his plans. And the fact that he’d willingly invited her back into his life was not a welcome reminder of his weakness.
* * *
Fear of keeping her father waiting had instilled within Siena an ability to get ready in record time, so she wasn’t surprised when she saw Andreas’s look of shock when she walked into the main salon a short time later.
The way his eyes widened sent a shaft of something hot to her belly. The dress was, after all, exquisite. It was one-shouldered, a swathe of dusky pink layers of chiffon, shot through with gold. It hugged her chest and waist and then fell to the floor. She’d pulled her hair up and wore a pair of large teardrop pink diamond earrings.
Feeling absurdly nervous, Siena asked, ‘Will I do?’
Andreas smiled, but it looked harsh in the soft lighting of the palatial room. ‘You know you’ll do, Siena. I’m sure you don’t need compliments from me.’
Siena flushed. She hadn’t been searching for a compliment. Andreas looked more than stunning in a black tuxedo with a classic black bow-tie. His hair gleamed, still slightly damp, and his eyes looked like dark jewels.
He flicked a glance at his watch and then moved towards her.
‘We should go or we’ll miss the first half.’
Those nerves assailed her again when Andreas took her elbow in his hand, and Siena asked, ‘Which opera is it?’
Andreas was opening the main door and he glanced at her. ‘It’s La Bohème.’
Siena couldn’t stop the spontaneous rush of pleasure. ‘That’s my favourite opera.’
Dryly Andreas remarked as they got into the private lift, ‘Mine too. Perhaps we have something in common after all.’
The rush of pleasure died. No doubt Andreas was alluding to the disparity in their upbringings. She didn’t know much about his early life, but she knew it had been relatively humble.
Curious in a way she hadn’t been before, Siena found herself asking when they were in the back of his car, ‘Do you come from a big family?’
Andreas looked at her, but his face was in shadow. She could sense him tense at the question and wondered why.
Eventually he answered, ‘I have five younger sisters and my parents.’
Siena felt her curiosity increase on hearing this. ‘I didn’t realise you came from such a big family. Are you close?’
She could make out his jaw tightening. More reluctance. Clearly he didn’t want to talk about it. Siena confided nervously, ‘It was just me and Serena. I always wondered what it would be like—’ She broke off because she’d been about to say: to have an older brother. But of course she did have an older brother.
