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But he didn’t. And finally she forced herself to look up at him again. He was watching her, his face calm and serious. For a moment he said nothing, and she tensed, fearing his hesitation. And then, tilting her face upwards, he lowered his mouth and kissed her.
‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said slowly. ‘Together.’
And, reaching down, he scooped her into his arms and strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Later, still shaken by the intensity of what they’d shared, she lay in his arms, watching him sleep. She felt stunned and sated and happy. Not that anything had changed really, she told herself carefully. They had simply had sex. And no matter how warm and safe, how tender she might feel right now, he was still as ruthless and single-minded as ever—just as a tiger in a zoo was as dangerous as a tiger in the jungle.
His arm was resting across her stomach and carefully, so as not to wake him, she rolled towards him to watch the play of dappled light across his lean chest. It didn’t feel real, him being there. It was like a dream.
But what would happen when he woke up?
She tensed, fear scraping over her skin. And then, beside her, Massimo shifted in his sleep, his hand tightening possessively over her hip, and her fear dropped away.
Feeling calmer, she curled her arm over his chest. And as her eyes drifted shut she wondered drowsily what exactly he’d been doing in the dark in the kitchen. But it was too late to answer that question, for the next moment, lulled by the heat of his body and the comforting sounds of morning birdsong, she had fallen swiftly and deeply asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
MASSIMO BREATHED OUT SLOWLY.
Finally, she was asleep.
Staring up at the ceiling, he gritted his teeth and tried to work out exactly what was happening. It certainly wasn’t what usually happened. Usually at this point he would have forgotten the woman’s name—if he’d even known it at all—and, satiated by a night of passion, he would have been waiting for the earliest possible opportunity to leave.
And it should have been the same with Flora—in theory at least. Last night he’d taken her into his arms with the sole aim of working her out of his system—the same way he’d done time and time before with every other women he’d desired.
But from the start nothing had been straightforward with Flora. And now, at some point between last night and this morning, everything had changed again.
With her arm curled loosely around his body, it felt different between them. For a start he doubted he would ever forget her name...not after what had happened last night—he smiled tightly—and twice this morning.
His heartbeat shivered. His sex life was hardly vanilla. But Flora was the most erotic woman he’d ever known. Her feverish response to his touch had taken his breath away. She had been like fire and light in his hands, her body molten with heat. It had been incredible.
At the memory of just how incredible she’d been, he felt his body grow painfully hard and, shifting beneath the sheets, he frowned. What the hell was the matter with him?
So she was sexy... So what?
It wasn’t as if there was a shortage of beautiful, eager women clamouring to share his bed. Flora was nothing special.
He gritted his teeth.
So why was he fighting an impulse to lean over and pull her closer? To press his lips softly against hers and wake her with a kiss? He’d never felt like that before. No matter how good the sex had been, he’d never once wanted to indulge in any sort of post-coital affection. He’d always wanted to break free, some deep-rooted need driving him on to the next one-night stand.
His heart banged painfully against his ribs. It didn’t make any sense except— She wasn’t just sexy, he admitted a moment later. She was beautiful.
And smart and determined.
And, unlike every other woman of his acquaintance, he lived with her.
Which was clearly the real reason he was still holding her in his arms. He felt a sudden swift stab of relief. Of course. It was obvious. Why would he drag himself out of one bed to get into another in the room next door?
Feeling calmer now that he’d rationalised his uncharacteristic behaviour, he turned his attention to more predictable matters: work! Swiftly, he clicked through his day’s schedule. He had a conference call planned for just after ten, and then a lunch with an overseas investment bank.
He needed to prepare for both. But he was finding it impossible to concentrate on anything but Flora’s warm body curving against his, her skin so smooth and soft and just begging to be touched.
He felt a rush of raw desire and, glancing down at her, his breath snagged in his throat. What was happening to him? It didn’t make any sense.
Working...his job...the business he had built up from scratch had never taken second place to a woman before. Somewhere inside, something shifted and stirred, a shadow rising. He grimaced.
He knew what had happened. And when. It had been yesterday, in that café. For one tiny moment, he’d let Flora get under his skin. He never talked about personal matters but for some inexplicable reason, he’d let his guard down. Hell! He’d even hinted at his miserable childhood, he thought angrily. He let out a long, slow breath. Thankfully, though, he’d come to his senses before losing control completely and telling her the whole sordid story of his life.
