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‘You didn’t do anything wrong,’ he said, slicing through her objection. ‘He did. If anyone owes me an apology, it’s him.’
‘Well, he’s been dead for five years. So you’re not likely to get one.’
‘I don’t want an apology from a dead guy—what I want is for you to acknowledge what he did to us was wrong. Why is that so damn hard for you?’
She threw her hands up in the air. ‘Fine. I agree what he did was wrong. Is that enough for you?’
‘No. I want you to stay here with me.’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘He split us up before we were ready. We’ve got a chance now to take some time to say goodbye to each other properly.’
His gaze flicked down her frame, and the inevitable flare of heat she felt in response made it doubly clear exactly what their goodbye was supposed to entail.
‘We’re both grown-ups now and we deserve to finish this thing right. Why can’t you see that?’
Because I’m scared I might still care about you. Too much.
‘I’ve told you—it’s just bad timing.’
‘Don’t give me that. If you’re running the company you can make time for this. But you won’t. And I want to know why.’
‘I won’t because I don’t want to spend time with you,’ she shouted back, determined to mean it. ‘If your ego can’t accept that, that’s your problem—not mine. We’re over—we’ve been over for ten years.’
‘Yet I can still make you come so hard you scream. And you haven’t let another guy do that to you for five years. Five years is a heck of a long time.’
The blush flushed through her to the roots of her hair. His eyes went razor-sharp.
‘What the...? Has it been longer than five years?’
How could he know that?
‘I didn’t say that.’ She scrambled to deny it. Knowing she couldn’t lie because he would read her like a book and know the truth instantly.
Dane had always been able to use her need for him against her. He’d never treated her like a wife when they were married. Had never been capable of opening up to her and sharing anything of himself with her. And she’d been so pathetically grateful for any sign that he cared about her at all, she’d found that romantic.
She knew the truth now, though—that his possessiveness, his protectiveness, hadn’t been a sign of his love. It had simply been a sign of his need to claim ownership. If he ever found out that she’d never shared her bed with any other man but him, she’d be handing him a loaded gun.
‘You don’t have to say it,’ he said. ‘It’s written all over your face.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ She stormed off, determined to lock herself in the bathroom before he discovered the humiliating truth and shot down the last remaining shreds of her composure.
His laugh followed her all the way into the shower cubicle.
* * *
Who knew Xanthe could be so cute when she was mad?
Dane let out a strained chuckle as she slammed the bathroom door behind her, then rubbed the heel of his palm over the ache in the centre of his chest. The choking feeling returned.
It shouldn’t really matter to him that his wife hadn’t slept with that many other guys, but somehow it did. It also shouldn’t matter to him that she didn’t want to hang out at the hotel for another night.
He wasn’t a possessive guy, or a particularly protective one. But with Xanthe it had always been different. Because he’d been her first. And she’d once been pregnant with his child.
And seeing her have that nightmare, knowing it wasn’t the only one she’d had, had affected him somehow. Made him feel guilty for not being there when she’d needed him, even though his head was telling him it wasn’t his fault.
She’d been stressed and exhausted when she’d arrived in his office yesterday. Enough to face-plant right in front of him. And in that moment she had reminded him of the girl she’d been—the girl he’d felt so in tune with because of the way she’d been bullied by her father. That girl had always been trying to please a guy who would never be pleased. And now it looked as if she was still doing it.
