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“Why do you come here?”
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “The same reasons as you, I suspect.”
Maddie doubted that, but she didn’t say as much. To deny his assertion was to invite questions she wasn’t willing to answer. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about Michael. She couldn’t, and it was so hard to explain why. She hated that she felt a degree of shame for what she’d been through, because she understood it was completely out of her control, but it was hard to admit to what had happened – no, it was hard to admit why she’d stayed after the first time he’d hit her. She’d truly believed though that he’d made a mistake. It had seemed so out of character at the time, except it wasn’t, obviously.
She’d left London, telling her parents she had a deadline and needed to write away from distraction, telling her friends only that she and Michael had broken up without fleshing out any further details. And she told no one where she was going. She didn’t dare risk it. Michael was charming and clever and could undoubtedly persuade someone to open up to him about her location.
It had been instinctive to keep her secrets close to her chest but now, in the presence of a man she’d known for less than an hour, she felt a compelling desire to speak truthfully. Perhaps it was the anonymity that came of spending time with someone you didn’t know, and likely wouldn’t see again?
Or perhaps it was more complicated than that, she admitted grudgingly, as she flicked her gaze to his face once more. He was a stranger to her and yet she felt an instinctive tug towards him, a trust she wanted to be guided by even when she knew better than to rely on her instincts. Instincts that had, after all, guided her to Michael.
“I don’t know your name,” she said with a small shake of her head, the intensity of this overwhelming.
“It’s Nico,” he provided, his eyes scanning her features, as if looking for something – she couldn’t say what.
“Nico.” She repeated it, filling the silence with another question. “Is it short for anything?”
“Niccolo,” he nodded. “Conqueror of the people,” his voice assumed a deeper tone and he posed his features into a mask of strength so she laughed.
“Perfect.”
“Si?”
The question surprised her, because it forced her to admit that yes, she’d been speaking honestly. There was something about him that spoke of victory and conquering, of being conquered.
How she wished she had a tighter grip on her body’s responses! But she didn’t – a force was at work that was so much bigger than her. Desire was flaring in the pit of her stomach and even when she could think of a dozen reasons to ignore it, she knew she absolutely didn’t want to.
“Yeah.” She angled her body to face his, her pulse racing, her tempo firing. Was she really going to do this? Do what? Her brain screamed. He might not be interested in her. She might be misreading everything. Before Michael, it had been a really long time before she’d dated anyone. She wasn’t good at this stuff.
And this guy was really gorgeous. Undoubtedly he could have his pick of anyone. Lightning flashed just beyond the window and she startled. It wasn’t much. Just an involuntary shiver – barely enough to register. But his hand shot out, as if to steady her, his strong fingers curving around her arm. The lightest touch, so gentle and reassuring, but it shot little arrows of awareness through her bloodstream and made her cheeks burn with heat.
“You’re okay?” He murmured. Had he moved closer? Or had she? They stood toe to toe, so she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes now. She could feel his chest moving with each breath he drew.
She nodded, sucking in a gulp of air that was spiced with his intoxicatingly masculine fragrance.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’re jumpy.”
She was. She had been since Michael. Her lips twisted into a grimace. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
“You don’t need to be.” A divot formed between his brows. “You’re safe here.”
Had he intentionally chosen the word she’d let slip earlier? She bit down on her lower lip, chewing it distractedly. “Am I?”
A growling noise of agreement. She lifted her hand and pressed it to his chest, surprising them both. “I don’t know if I want to feel safe right now.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, his face unreadable. “No?”
Her blood was rushing so fast she could hear it in her ears. She shook her head slowly, her eyes holding his in a courageous display of need. “Nope.”
“Maddie,” her name on his lips was a sensual incantation, but he stayed where he was. “I didn’t invite you here for this.”
Insecurities cut through her desire. She dropped her hand and spun away from him. “Oh, God. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She shook her head, unable to look at him, staring across the room. “You’ve been really kind and I shouldn’t…”
His fingers curved around her wrist, pulling at her gently. “The same thing that came over you has come over me too,” he promised and her heart skipped a beat. “But I invited you to shelter here with no agenda. I need to know you believe that, that you won’t think I’m taking advantage of the situation.”
Pleasure flooded her heart. So considerate. So kind. But Michael had seemed like that at the start, too. He’d seemed so perfect. She bit down on her lip, swallowing the bitterness that cloyed at her throat.
