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At last, when he was fully sheathed inside her, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. It was a kiss that brought him home, back to the past but also to the present, with the woman he’d never been able to fully eradicate from his heart beneath him, surrounding him, drawing him deeper into a passionate web he’d once thought himself free of.
As he began to move, slowly at first and then fiercer, deeper, capturing her cries with his lips as they both rode the rising wave of pleasure toward its peak, he wondered why he had ever wanted to be free.
She burst around him, crying out into his mouth as her nails sank into his back, her body matching his in perfect rhythm. He followed a moment later, sinking so deeply into her warm and willing body he never wanted to let go.
But he rolled off her, not wanting to crush her into the bed. When she started to inch her way toward the edge, he flung an arm around her waist and dragged her close.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She turned to look at him, her eyes surprisingly opaque. Once she’d been an open book. He could tell her every thought.
Although, he remembered as his ardor cooled, he thought he had.
“I... This was incredible.”
“Yes.”
Amusement flashed in her eyes and softened her face.
“Yes. I just wasn’t sure... I know we’re not...”
How easy it would be to use this moment, to turn the tables and reject her the way she had him. Remind her of the difference in their stations in life and thank her for a pleasant evening before asking her to leave.
The first day she had walked into his office, he might have been able to do it. But now, after everything that had transpired between them in just a couple weeks, and with the evidence mounting that there was much more to the story of their breakup, he couldn’t. Couldn’t deliver such cruelty and heartbreak for the sake of avenging his wounded pride.
“The choice to leave is yours.”
She stared at him for a moment longer. He didn’t know what he wanted more: for her to stay and for them to indulge in their rediscovered passion, or for her to leave and give him a chance to regroup before morning dawned. To prepare himself for whatever bombshell she had to drop.
The smile she gave him was forced, insincere.
“I should go.”
Disappointment chased away the warmth left over from their lovemaking. But he didn’t stop her as she rolled out of bed. He watched as she moved about the room, pulling on her clothes with quick movements, rushing to get away from him. The weak part of him that had felt something more as they’d made love urged him to ask her to stay. Reality and pride silenced his foolishness as his anger resurfaced. If she wanted to run away instead of giving him the answers he deserved, fine.
She was nearly at the door, her back to him, when she paused.
Stay.
The word rose to the tip of his tongue, nearly fell from his lips.
But he managed to stay silent. A moment later she turned the knob and disappeared, closing the door softly behind her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALEXANDRA’SGAZEFLITTEDfrom one flower arrangement to the next, visually checking for any sign of sagging blooms or browning leaves. But everything looked perfect.
She closed the refrigerator door with a sigh. She should be satisfied, but all she could think was this left her with absolutely nothing to do on her last full day in the Hamptons. Tomorrow would end with a luncheon before everyone headed back to their respective homes. Some lived in New York City, but others had traveled from Washington, D.C., the Carolinas and even from Kansas City, in the case of one real estate tycoon. They would all return for the final event, the gala at the Met for over two hundred prospective clients and influential members of the New York financial community. Thankfully, it wasn’t until next Saturday, giving her a week to decompress from what had turned out to be an emotionally trying few days.
She’d seen Grant every day since she’d fled his bedroom the night they’d made love, but aside from greeting him with a “Hello, Mr. Santos,” she’d kept her distance. He hadn’t approached her, either, had barely even glanced in her direction.
And why would he? She’d once again fled rather than faced up to the sins of her past. She’d wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms that night and tell him every horrible detail. Yet, she hadn’t been able to move past the very real possibility that he would look at her in disgust before telling her to get out. He’d survived fleeing a drug cartel, living in a postage stamp-size apartment and working himself to the bone to provide for his mother as he’d worked toward his dream. If he had been in her shoes all those years ago, he would have found a way for them to stay together. If she did tell him the truth, how could he see her as anything but weak?
As much as it had hurt, leaving him that night had been the right thing to do. It had saved them both the anger and recriminations that would come with such a conversation. And it had allowed her to hold on to the memory of him pulling her close just after their lovemaking. A moment she never thought to have again, a gift worth preserving.
She moved upstairs into the kitchen where Pamela and her crew were cooking up breakfast. Part of her wanted to talk to her friend, to tell her everything and get her opinion. But if Pamela knew who she really was, knew about her past, she’d never said anything. She told herself she didn’t want to burden her friend, not after Pamela had already risked her own job giving Alexandra the information she had.
But truthfully, she acknowledged as she grabbed a muffin and waved at Pamela before moving over to one of several state-of-the-art coffee machines, most of it was fear. She didn’t want to confide in anyone else, to risk having someone else turn away from her because of her past.
