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There would be no first time between them. No matter that her sweet scent filled the space between them and made him salivate; no matter that she turned him on to the point that the women in his past became faceless names whenever she touched him. She had made it more than clear that she wasn’t interested in him—that he wasn’t her type. And that was for the best. Even if it grated.
What had she said on the plane? That he was entitled? And with no sense of humour? By God, when she had said that he’d had an overwhelming urge to toss her onto the bed and show her just what he did have to offer. And downstairs, when she had clung to him like a barnacle on a rock, it was all he’d been able to do to stop himself from hauling her into a dark corner and pulling her skirt up to her waist. Unused to feeling so caught up over a woman, Sebastiano scowled when he realised that he still hadn’t answered her question about the sleeping arrangements.
‘You’ll be sleeping in my bed,’ he said gruffly, irritation warring with arousal as her gorgeous eyes flew to his.
‘Your bed?’
‘Relax, Poppy, I won’t be in it.’
‘Well, I didn’t expect that you would but—where will you sleep?’
Sebastiano glanced at the white sofa against the window that was designed for high tea rather than sleep.
Her eyes followed his gaze and she frowned. ‘You can’t sleep there. It’s not long enough.’
‘It will do.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I can bunk down on the sofa. Believe me, I’ve had worse.’
Sebastiano frowned, remembering that she had been brought up in the foster care system. The knowledge had played on his mind all the way to Italy. ‘How much worse?’
She crinkled her nose. ‘Oh, you know—worse.’ She glanced around his luxuriously appointed room. ‘Or perhaps you don’t. Anyway—I’ll take the sofa.’
‘Actually, I do know,’ he said, affronted by her belief that he was some spoilt, rich ingrate. ‘I did a year in the army when I was younger, and no matter which country you’re in the ground is always hard.’
‘Okay, I stand corrected,’ she said, waving off his irritation as if she was completely unperturbed by his scowl. ‘But I’m still taking the sofa.’
A muscle ticked in Sebastiano’s jaw. ‘You’re my guest. You get the bed.’ And, so saying, he moved to the door to his old bedroom and pushed it open.
Poppy followed reluctantly and glanced inside. ‘Big,’ she murmured as she took in his king-sized bed, her husky tone forcing Sebastiano to grip the doorframe a little harder.
‘What did you expect?’ he asked, his voice deeper than usual.
She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide, and he cursed himself for his provocative question. She wasn’t here for sex so best he get his mind back on track.
‘Perhaps I could use a spare room,’ she murmured.
Sebastiano stepped away from her and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher standing on the sideboard. ‘And how would that look to my family?’
‘I don’t know. I had imagined your grandparents would be old-fashioned about sex before marriage and give us separate rooms anyway.’
‘I’m a grown man, bella. They would think it strange if I wasn’t sleeping with you. And my grandparents have moved with the times. Apparently my grandmother even has a smart phone.’
Her soft mouth curved into a delightful smile. ‘You sound put out.’
Sebastiano dragged a hand through his hair. ‘This whole weekend has put me out.’
‘Because you have to be here with me?’
‘Because I have to be here at all.’
She frowned. ‘I thought you loved your family.’
‘I do love my family. This...’ He waved his hand around and had no idea what he was doing. The last thing he wanted to do was open up to a woman he barely knew and tell her that this villa brought back too many painful memories he’d rather bury deep than think about. ‘Never mind.’ He took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Usually we don’t dress for dinner, but since the tribe has been invited you might want to make it semi-formal.’
‘Thanks. Oh—and one other thing.’
Intending to plunge himself into work, Sebastiano paused with his hand on his laptop. ‘What is it?’ he asked curtly.
