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She moaned against his lips, and nodded with slow desperation.
“Do you want me?”
Oh, she did. So badly. She nodded again.
He stepped back, running a hand across his stubbled chin. “Then end things with Alec. Do it by the end of the wedding, or I will do it for you.”
She opened her mouth to object but he lifted a finger to her lips to silence her.
“You are mine, Aurora Jones, and always have been. The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for everyone.”
He stalked back towards the water, leaving her staring after him, like a person who was completely lost out of time and place.
He turned around once he’d unlooped the boat from the tree.
“Well? Are you with me?”
He was talking about more than just the return trip across the lake, and they both knew it. For the third time in a matter of minutes, she nodded. She took a step towards the boat, and towards a future that no longer felt safe or certain. Except for one detail. Leonardo was in it, front and center. Everything else would just have to work itself out.
7
“Dance with me.” Not a question. A statement. A statement because he knew the answer. He knew that a single look was enough to make her body quiver. That she had never been particularly good at saying no to him, but that now it was utterly impossible.
She put a hand in his, and felt shocks of electricity burst through her system at the simple, polite contact.
“You were a beautiful bridesmaid.”
“Maid of Honor,” Aurora corrected with a small smile. “Thank you. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”
Leonardo’s hand on the small of her back was warm, pressing her to him with a gentle pressure, as the band played a slow ballad. She lifted her face to stare into his eyes, and felt as though the heavens were swallowing her. His chin was stubbled, his cheekbones prominent in his tanned face. She flicked her gaze away, aware that she was in danger of making a scene.
“Have you talked to him?”
Her heart turned over in her chest. “Not yet.”
“Having doubts, S.B?”
Her eyes flew to his again, her face was pale. “Doubts? I’m riddled with them.”
“Are you? Strange, when I am so certain.” His voice was a deep husk. Slowly, his fingers moved up and down her lower back, sending riots of sensation tumbling through her.
“How can you be? When we’ve already tried this once?” She cleared her throat and focussed on something over his shoulder. “I never told you why I quit modelling.”
“I presume the endless travel and bitching and early starts and late nights finally wore thin.”
“No.” She bit down on her lip, and tried to organise her thoughts. Resolutely, she kept her eyes averted. “I started having panic attacks. They were set off by the lights at shows. The noise. The people.” She felt him stiffen; his hand froze on her back. “Photographic work was worse. A camera right in my face. People touching me. I couldn’t bear it.”
When he spoke, Leonardo’s voice was strangely disconnected. “This was because of me?” Her eyes flew to his.
“Not because of you, per se. The doctor I saw said it was a reaction to your accident. To our break up.” She dropped her gaze. The penetrating sympathy in his dark stare was soul-destroying.
He shook his head slowly. When he spoke, his voice rang with quiet disbelief. “But you were photographed constantly. Out at nightclubs, openings, with a host of different men. You seemed… thrilled… from what I could tell.”
Her throat ached. “I was fine so long as I’d pounded a bottle of champagne before leaving the flat.”
He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, but she pulled away sharply.
“You’re not listening to me.” She swallowed. “I can’t go through another break up with you. Loving you and losing you was just about the hardest thing I can imagine ever having to go through. If we do this, I feel like I’m opening myself up to that all over.”
