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Logan let out a burst of laughter. ‘You mean, even all those years ago we had fame-hungry people?’ He shook his head. ‘Wow, just wow.’
He took another few seconds and stopped in front of the young Joseph holding the coat. ‘I still can’t believe they wouldn’t let Joseph wear his multi-coloured coat.’
She bent down in the front of the fresco. In the dim light he could see her dark eyes were still gleaming. ‘Yes, but look at the folds in the cloak. What do you see?’
He looked closer. ‘Of course. They look exactly like the folds in the Madonna’s dress in the fresco in Tuscany. That’s what you noticed.’
There wasn’t a sound in the dark church. They were entirely alone, crouching on the floor. The lack of artificial light was almost like a safety blanket around them.
His face was only inches from hers. Their gazes meshed. It was a moment. An instant. For just that second she had the same passion and wonder in her eyes that she’d had twelve years ago. Twelve years ago when they’d thought they could conquer the world.
He’d been trying so hard to hold his tongue, trying to keep a handle on how he felt about everything, but the memories of Lucia were just overtaking him. The spark of jealousy, the protectiveness, the connection between them. He was like a pressure cooker just waiting to go off.
Her pupils were dilating in front of him, the blackness overtaking the chocolate brown of her eyes. He was pretty certain his were doing exactly the same.
All of a sudden he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned forward, just a few inches, and caught the back of her head in his hand, tangling his fingers through her hair as he pulled her towards him.
And then he stopped thinking entirely...
* * *
She was instantly transported back twelve years. The familiarity was astounding.
No one had kissed her like this in twelve years.
No kiss had felt so right.
No kiss had felt so perfect.
Her body moved on automatic pilot, ignoring all the little neurons that were firing in her brain. Ignoring every single rational thought that might be there.
She could only act on instinct. Her hands slid through his thick, dark hair, her fingers tugging and pulling at his head. She could taste him. She could smell him.
Everything about him was familiar. His scent was winding its way around her like a coiling snake. Her hands moved, sliding across his muscled shoulders and arms and down the planes of his chest.
His lips never left hers. Their teeth clashed, his tongue tangling with hers. Crouching on a floor wasn’t comfortable for kissing. Logan sensed that and pulled her up against him, his strong legs lifting them both upwards, keeping their bodies in contact the whole time.
She could feel his heart thudding against her chest. Feel her breath catching in her throat.
It was so easy to be swept away. It was so easy to forget about everything else. His fingertips brushed across the front of her breasts as she sucked in a sharp breath, then rounded her hips and stopped firmly on her behind, pulling her even closer to him.
There was no mistaking his reaction to her. There was no mistaking he was every bit as caught up in this as she was.
So when he stopped kissing her she was shocked.
He pulled his lips back from hers and rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. His body was still interlocked with hers. It seemed he had no intention of moving.
Her hands, resting against his chest, clenched.
Embarrassment swamped her. She wanted to step back but couldn’t.
What on earth was he thinking?
Then, to her surprise, he let out a deep laugh. It wasn’t a mocking laugh. It wasn’t derogatory. It was more one of astonishment.
In the dark church his voice was husky. ‘So that’s what I’ve been missing.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I sometimes wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me. If I’d imagined how good it was.’
He was echoing her thoughts. She’d felt exactly the same way. Any time she’d allowed memories of Logan to sneak into her brain, she’d always thought it couldn’t possibly have been as good as she remembered it. Everything before Ariella Rose, that was.
The portcullis that was always stiffly in place was shaken a little. The thick gate had risen just a tiny bit, leaving the thinnest gap underneath. The black cloud of self-protection that usually cloaked her was thinning in patches.
Their foreheads were still touching. She could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. ‘It wasn’t all that bad, was it?’ she whispered.
His fingers stroked through her soft hair. ‘Some parts were really good,’ he breathed quietly.
