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his gaze. ‘I knew exactly what I was doing.’ She hadn’t been prepared for the consequences of her actions, but that didn’t matter any more.
‘Hell, Juno.’ He framed her face, planted a kiss so full of tenderness on her lips she felt a frightening ache around her heart. ‘What happened?’
She took his hands in hers, pulled them from her face. The ache getting worse.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t risk falling into any kind of intimacy with this man. What they’d done could never mean anything more than one night of pleasure. She knew that. He was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny. And even if he hadn’t been, she knew she couldn’t afford to mistake sex for love. Not a second time.
‘It was a long time ago,’ she said flatly. ‘It’s not important.’
She lifted the sheet, scooted across the bed, shivering despite the sultry summer heat. ‘I’m tired. I ought to go.’
But as she bent to pick up her discarded gown the bed tilted behind her and then long thighs bracketed hers. His arms folded around her waist, trapping her against him. ‘Stay.’ He let out a slow breath. ‘Stay for tonight. No more questions, I promise.’
She should go, but somehow the warmth of his arms, the brush of his breath against the top of her head felt so solid, so reassuring she couldn’t make herself say the words.
‘Come on, darlin’,’ he murmured against her ear lobe. ‘I won’t ravish you again. We both need our sleep. And it’s late. Past midnight. You won’t get a taxi too easily at this time of the night.’
She watched over her shoulder as he piled the pillows against the bed’s ornate headboard. Propping himself on them, he reached out, threaded his fingers through hers.
‘Come back to bed,’ he whispered, the rough cadence of his voice more addictive than any drug. ‘I’ll give you a lift wherever you need to be first thing in the morning.’
She gave a huge yawn and he chuckled.
‘Lord love it, but good sex is exhausting, isn’t it?’ he teased, cradling her head on his shoulder and drawing the sheet up to cover them.
‘I can’t stay for long,’ she murmured, another yawn escaping as she snuggled into his embrace.
She couldn’t stay the whole night. That would be dangerously self-indulgent. But what real harm would it do to stay for a little while? She knew exactly where she stood. Exactly what this meant and what it didn’t. She’d sorted it all out clearly in her mind. And her limbs seemed to have got so heavy, as if she’d been running a marathon. She laid her hand on his chest, took a deep breath of his exquisite scent and felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her palm.
It felt so nice to be held, just once.
Her eyelids drifted closed as she gave herself permission to enjoy the feeling. For a little while.
He should have let her go. Why hadn’t he let her leave?
The question tormented Mac as Juno’s head grew heavy on his shoulder and her body relaxed into sleep. He switched off the bedside lamp and glanced down as a beam of moonlight turned her soft curls to a dull gold.
Hadn’t he always avoided cuddling after sex? Sharing a bed all night made him feel claustrophobic. So why didn’t it feel claustrophobic now? Why did it feel reassuring, listening to her gentle snores and having her body snug under his arm?
And why couldn’t he get rid of that picture of her at sixteen, alone and vulnerable, out of his head?
Something had happened to her six years ago, something unpleasant. Why else would she have gone without sex for so long?
But why should it matter to him? And why should he feel responsible?
He’d been careful with her, patient even, though it had nearly killed him. But for some dumb reason he’d still needed to hold her tonight, to keep her with him. To be sure she was all right.
He squeezed his eyes shut, a series of other unsettling pictures from the day intruding on his memory like unwelcome ghosts. Connor and Daisy walking down the aisle towards him, their hands clasped together. Connor’s baby son asleep in his daddy’s arms. The flicker of fear in Juno’s face when she’d caught sight of his arousal for the first time.
He sighed. Was it any wonder he was behaving irrationally? Hadn’t he been on an emotional roller coaster the whole day?
Coming to Connor’s wedding had been a mistake. He’d known it from the start, but he’d let his libido rule his head and come anyway—and very nearly opened up old wounds in the process. He’d taken advantage of the girl, and used the attraction between them to make sure he kept those wounds well and truly closed. And now he was paying the price.
Guilt. Good old Catholic guilt. That was all this was. He didn’t feel responsible for her, he felt guilty about the way he’d used her. Especially once he’d found out how innocent she was.
He inhaled the summer-meadow scent of her shampoo, listened to her breathing and a wry smile curved his lips.
What was he beating himself up for? He’d given her a good time. More than a good time. He was pretty sure he’d given her her first orgasm. She’d even thanked him for it. So what if he’d used her—she’d enjoyed it, hadn’t she?
