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He turned to look at her, regret hanging over him in a heavy cloud that enshrouded her in his misery. Why had she accepted his words that day? She’d known something was wrong. Antonio had never spoken to her like that before, had never treated her so cruelly. Yet she’d been so focused on herself, on her own pain and humiliation, that she’d let him walk away. If she’d been stronger then, more confident like she was now, she would have run after him, demanded answers.
Although as she stared at him, something else tugged at her. He met her gaze head-on. Was it the shifting of his feet, the slight twitch of his left eye, or the subtle clenching of his fingers that told her he wasn’t being entirely truthful?
A tiny white scar above his left eyebrow caught her attention, triggered a memory. When he’d dismissed her so coldly, the scar had been a wound, ugly and red and barely visible beneath the tumble of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead.
Her hand came up, her fingers reaching out. Antonio jerked back.
“Don’t.”
He bit the word out, as harsh as that horrible day all those years ago. He turned to leave.
“You’re really good at walking away, Cabrera.”
He whirled around. The black T-shirt clung to his body, the rippling of muscles beneath the wet cloth reminding her of a panther. Sleek, fast, powerful.
“I don’t deserve you, Anna.” His voice, so gravelly, sent shockwaves of awareness rippling across her skin. She shivered. He swore and tugged her cover-up out of her bag, draping it over her shoulders and tugging it over her almost-nude body. “I’m not interested in marriage. Never have been, doubt I ever will be. It wasn’t on my radar to begin with, and after what I’ve seen, I don’t want it.” A hoarse laugh escaped him. “My mother is under a delusion that she and my father were a love match, and I’ve never seen any evidence of that. You want whatyourparents had. Marriage and kids and the whole love-of-your-life bit. You told me so yourself.”
She had. Numerous times. At first, they had been the ramblings of a teenage girl confiding in a friend. A longing for the kind of relationship her parents had had, one built on not just love but respect, admiration and friendship. What many would call a fairy tale.
Although, as far as she could remember, Prince Charming had never kissed his princess the way Antonio had kissed her yesterday, with a possessive fire that had seared her from head to toe.
“I never meant to put that kind of pressure on you, Antonio.”
“I know. But what I felt for you...” His voice deepened. “It wasn’t good. Not for someone like you. Not after what I did.”
“What you did?” she repeated. “Antonio, talk to me.”
The sorrow in his eyes nearly broke her. His hand came up and cupped her face.
She hadn’t known true heartbreak before. In this moment, realizing that Antonio felt something for her, that he’d felt something for her back then and she’d been too cowardly to pursue him, to find out what had made her best friend act so terribly and that he was still carrying the weight of that secret all these years later, shattered her heart into a million pieces.
“I wish I could. Just know, Anna, what you made me feel back then...” A shuddering breath escaped him. “What I feel now...”
She swayed forward, hypnotized by the longing in his words.
“What do you feel?”
He stared at her for the longest time, so long she wondered if he’d heard her.
And then, finally.
“Hunger. Like I’m starving for you.”
Antonio stepped out of an ice-cold shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his hips. The water had done little to assuage his erection. Neither had his own touch, a few quick jerks meant to take the edge off.
Except when he’d touched himself, he’d imagined Anna’s hands wrapped around him. When he’d found his release, he’d envisioned sliding into her body, hearing her gasp his name.
His fingers curled into fists as he stalked to the mirror. It had been a mistake to go searching for her, to apologize for the kiss. He never should have sought her out. He never should have confessed how he’d felt about her all those years ago. But when she’d stood up to him, her fire shadowing a deep-rooted hurt, and her gut-wrenching admission of how much his cruel words had affected the last ten years of her life, he hadn’t been able to lie to her any longer.
Besides, it was better this way. Now she knew the truth, or at least most of it. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell her about the accident. About William. About why he would always be alone.
He ran a comb through his hair, each stroke blunt and angry. Deep down, he was still the same reckless teenager who had nearly gotten his friend killed. Take last night. He’d given in to the slightest desire and had nearly taken Anna right then and there on the balcony table. Anna had proved time and again over the last week that she could take care of herself. That didn’t mean she was impervious to the pain that would come from a man like him taking her virginity and then kicking her back into the real world. That he’d almost done just that was further evidence he wasn’t, and never would be, the kind of man she deserved.
That was why, after he’d confessed how he’d actually felt all those years ago to Anna, he’d let his hand drop from her face before she could respond to his bold admission. He’d told her that if she no longer felt comfortable continuing their charade, he would arrange to have his helicopter fly her to Paris. She hadn’t answered, had just nodded while staring out at the sea in that damned bikini that revealed the sensual swell of her breasts and legs he’d imagined wrapped around his waist last night.
Once more, he’d retreated. Each step up that long, winding staircase had killed him.
You’ve waited long enough.She wants you. What are you waiting for?
