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“Oh, I like it very much, but not the way you exist here. No lights on at night, no heating, no personal pictures or touches, it’s more like a museum than a house, a shrine to other people’s lives lived long, long ago. Why are you trying to live without actually living?”
His eyes swept shut, blocking her out, but Isabella didn’t want to be blocked out. She had the strongest conviction that he needed to have this conversation, that on some level he needed someone to ask this of him, to make him see what he was doing.
“It’s like you’ve put yourself in some kind of stasis. Why would a gorgeous young guy like you choose to hide away on your own in this stunning but very impersonal castle? It makes no sense. Don’t you miss people? Don’t you want companionship? Don’t you miss human connection and relationships? Women, sex, normal stuff?”
He jerked his face to hers, and the look he gave her seared Isabella to her toes. She had no idea why she’d thrown the last question at him. The words had just flown from her lips, like fully formed missiles she hadn’t been able to deny.
She clamped her lips together but it was too late – she’d already put the words out there and they hovered between them, an electrical current of accusation. Desire seemed to whip through the air, at least it did for Isabella, making her stand taller and straighter, every cell of her body quivering in sudden, enormous awareness of this man.
“You wish for me to talk about my sex life?” He turned to face her slowly, pinning her with a gaze that was both assessing and furious at the same time. She held her ground even as his eyes moved lower, the insouciant inspection sparking like flames in her bloodstream.
“You want me to tell you about the women I sleep with when I crave human connection, Isabella?” Now he said her name with derision, a slow drawl that showed he knew exactly how he affected her. “You want me to tell you that when I seek that kind of ‘connection’, I go to a bar and pick up a random woman, then never see her again? Is this what you want me to tell you? Would you like details of where I go? Of what I like?” He moved closer, his face just inches from hers. “Is this what you are goading me for?”
“I’m not goading you,” she denied, shaking a little at the turn their conversation had taken.
“You think I am not human, that I lack normal human feelings, and perhaps in some ways you are right. But I am very much a man, Isabella, and if you weren’t seeking protection under my roof, I’d be happy to arrange a demonstration of that fact.”
She stared up at him, her brain signal jammed in some vital way, so she couldn’t think straight and certainly couldn’t move.
“Are you offended that I haven’t hit on you? Is that what you want?” He moved closer still, his body touching hers now, his powerful legs flanking her on either side, surrounding her, so she was engulfed by him in every sense of the word.
“Do you want me to say that I’m attracted to you?”
She shook her head, but her heart was fluttering in her chest and desire made her stomach swoop.
“You are just a little girl, with no idea what you’re doing,” he said scathingly. “You are way out of your depth.”
Her lips parted but she couldn’t deny that. She did feel as though she were truly way, way out of her depth.
“I could kiss you right now, and you would beg me to make love to you, but it would just be sex. I’d be using you because you’re here and available, and we’d both hate me in the morning. So do me a favour and go to bed now.”
Anger flared inside of her. He was so goddamned cocky! She’d never beg a man to make love to her, and especially this man. She had too much pride for that. And suddenly, she wanted to teach him a lesson – arrogant so and so! Telling herself she had the
situation completely under control, she pushed up onto the tips of her toes, a challenge in the smooth tones of her voice. “It sounds to me like you’re scared of what might happen if you were to kiss me.”
She saw the answering flare in his eyes and knew he was tempted.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he snapped, but didn’t move away. In fact, his head dropped lower, so their lips were only a hair’s breadth from brushing. She shivered, anticipation tingling at all her nerve points. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you were still a virgin.”
She rolled her eyes. “Wrong.”
“But you don’t have much experience with men.”
Heat stirred in her cheeks. She didn’t want to talk about her experience with members of the opposite sex – nor the lessons it had taught her.
“Chicken,” she taunted, because it was more satisfying to do that than to answer his questions.
He made a groaning noise of dismissal. “Fool.”
“Maybe,” she shrugged, adding, inwardly, undoubtedly. It didn’t make any sense but something was pushing her to this point, making her act in a way that wasn’t sensible or logical but that absolutely demanded she do this. “But at least I’m not scared, Gabe.”
“You should be, little fool,” he swore in Italian, shaking his head and because she thought he might pull away, she acted swiftly, closing the gap between them by lifting higher onto her toes, and hovering her lips over his. Just lightly, a silent invitation. The air between them hissed – was it him, or her?
She closed the gap, kissing him properly now, and the second their lips locked it was as though the universe shifted gear; light seemed to stream around them, something universal and intimate slammed into place. She’d kissed him out of anger, wanting to teach him a lesson, but there was total surrender in the kiss, acquiescence to the rightness of this, even when it made very little sense on a rational level.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, her lips parting as his tongue thrust into her mouth, duelling with hers, so she had to grab hold of something, a thought, a memory, a warning that was flashing in her mind. But what?
Don’t beg. Don’t plead.
