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But why? If there was nothing between them Sasha should be happy that Rafael was recovering. Unless …? The thought that Sasha had feelings for Rafael after all sent a wave of anger and jealousy through him.
No. He dismissed the thought.
She’d listened to him bare his soul, held him in her arms as he’d relived Angelique’s betrayal. Sasha had shed tears for him; he refused to believe the raw pain he’d seen in her eyes wasn’t real.
But he couldn’t deny something was wrong.
Only when they made love, when he held her afterwards, did he feel he had the real Sasha back. Even now, mere hours before she was due to leave for London, she’d locked herself away in his garage, hell-bent on restoring his vintage cars to even more pristine condition than they’d originally been in. While he sat here, grappling with confusion and a hunger so relentless he was surprised he didn’t spontaneously combust from want.
No. It was more than want. This craving for Sasha, whether she was within arm’s reach or he was in Barcelona, went beyond anything he’d ever known. The few times he’d contemplated whether it would be better if she wasn’t at the villa at all he’d felt a wrench so deep it had shaken him.
Angelique had never made him feel like this, even though at the time he’d thought he would never yearn for another woman the way he’d yearned for her.
What he felt for Sasha was different … deeper … purer …
Marco stiffened, the breath trapped in his chest as he tried to get to grips with his feelings. But the more he tried to unravel the unfamiliar feeling, the more chaotic and frantic it grew.
He glanced out of his study window towards his garage. The feeling that she was slipping through his fingers wouldn’t fade. But he couldn’t deal with it now. There were too many loose ends left to tie up.
As if on cue, his phone rang. With a muttered curse, he picked it up.
All the way to his suite Sasha forced herself to breathe. Despite the cold lump of stone in her stomach, she needed to do this. She couldn’t continue to string things along any longer.
She entered the suite and heard the shower running. Without pausing, she crossed the room and slid open the door.
Water streamed off Marco’s naked, powerful body. The need that slammed through her threatened to weaken her resolve. It took several seconds before she could speak.
‘Marco, I … I’ve decided … I’m not coming back here after the next race.’
He whirled about, looked stricken for a moment, then his jaw clenched. ‘I thought we had this conversation already.’
Even now, with the wrenching pain of losing him coursing through her, she couldn’t resist the intense pull of desire that watching the water cascade over his body brought.
She steeled herself against it. ‘I tried to talk. You laid down the law.’
He snapped a towel off the heated rack and stepped from the shower. ‘You timed it perfectly, didn’t you?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Your exit strategy. At first I didn’t want to believe it, but now it makes perfect sense.’
She frowned. ‘Perfect sense … What are you talking about?’
‘You can drop the pretence. I had a call twenty minutes ago. From Raven Blass.’
Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Raven? Why—?’
‘She’s in Barcelona. She wants to see Rafael. I gave the hospital permission to let her see him, but funnily enough she was more worried about how you would feel about her visit.’
‘Marco—’
‘Apparently you’re very territorial about Rafael. She said something about warning Rafael to stay away from her the day he crashed?’
‘That wasn’t how it was—’
He tied the towel around his trim waist. ‘What was the plan? Use me as a stopgap until Rafael was on his feet, then go back to him?’
‘Of course not!’
