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Waking for the second time, she had found it agonisingly hard to leave the lambent warmth of Aristo’s body. But she’d had no choice. Like most young children, George woke early and, although he’d been sleeping in longer since they’d arrived on the island, she hadn’t wanted to risk him waking up and discovering her bed empty.
Her pulse fluttered forward like a startled deer.
Or, worse, waking up and finding her in Aristo’s room.
Daylight hadn’t changed her mind. But although she was willing—eager, in fact—to share his bed, she had no illusions. Sublime sex hadn’t been enough to save their marriage four years ago, and it was not enough to rebuild their relationship now.
That didn’t mean that she regretted what had happened. On the contrary, she knew it would happen again and she wanted it to—because she wanted him: the one, the only man whose touch left her begging for release.
Especially here, on this beautiful island paradise. Here they were far away from the demands of real life, and it was easy to live in the moment and not think further. And when it ended, as it undoubtedly would, when they returned to New York, she would move on with her life.
So why expose George to this sudden temporary change to he
r sleeping arrangements? He was three years old. Plus, he’d only just found out that Aristo was his father and, although he’d taken it very well, she understood enough about children—and her son in particular—to know that it was a huge, permanent tectonic change to his life.
Besides, he had no understanding of sex, let alone the complex dynamics of his parents’ relationship, so how could she hope to explain that she and his father hadn’t loved each other enough to make their marriage work, but the sexual charge between them was too powerful to resist?
The thought of trying to do so made her brain feel as though it was being pressed in a vice.
She cleared her throat. ‘Pites—I think that’s what Melina said they’re called.’ She forced herself to look at Aristo.
He nodded. ‘You mean the little pies?’ Reaching down, he ruffled George’s hair. ‘They used to be my favourite when I was your age. They’re delicious.’
George twisted round to look at Teddie. ‘I want to have them now, Mommy.’
He tugged at her hand and she let him pull her from her chair. ‘Well, I don’t know if they’re ready...’
‘Can I go and ask Melina? Can I?’
Her arm tightened around her son but, resisting the urge to draw him against her leg like a shield, she nodded. ‘Don’t run—and don’t forget to say please,’ she called after him.
There was a small sea breeze shimmying across the terrace and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She knew she should say something, only she couldn’t think of a single word.
As Aristo took a step closer she felt a rush of panic. What if he tried to kiss her and George saw?
Edging behind the table, she gave him what she hoped was a casual smile. ‘Did your mother make them?’
‘Make what?’
He stared at her in a way that made her muscles tense. Not quite hostile, but wary. Her smile stiffened, her heartbeat suddenly swift-moving, erratic.
‘The pies?’ she prompted. ‘You said they were your favourite when you were George’s age. I thought your mother...’ Her voice faded. His expression hadn’t altered outwardly, but there was a slight tension in his manner that hadn’t been there before.
Aristo shrugged. ‘My mother’s more of a hostess than a cook.’
He studied her face calmly. Last night she had not only acknowledged and accepted the irresistible sexual pull between them, but she had also shared her past with him, and he’d been hoping that if he could get her to drop her defences again then maybe, finally, she might consider sharing the future with him.
Only, judging by Teddie’s cool demeanour this morning, she was still not ready to trust him completely. For a moment he considered giving her some space, but he had a responsibility to make this work, to make her see why it had to work.
‘What are your plans for later?’ he asked abruptly.
She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and clear. ‘Nothing. The pool, probably—why?’
‘Because I thought you and I might spend the afternoon together.’ His dark gaze roamed her face. ‘Just the two of us. There’s something I want you to see...’
* * *
‘You’re sure that Melina is okay about this?’
