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Then without any words he took her by the hand and led her off the dance floor, and away from the hotel. The December night air was a cold slap of reality but before Emma could consider what was happening between them their limo sidled to the kerb and the driver jumped out to open the door. Emma slid inside, followed by Larenzo. Their thighs touched and their hands were still linked. Neither of them spoke.
Expectation coiled more tightly inside her with every passing moment; the air felt electric, snapping with tension. Larenzo was staring straight ahead; in the darkness Emma could not see his expression, and she doubted she’d be able to read it anyway. But she felt his desire. She certainly felt her own.
Ten minutes passed in exquisite tension. The limo pulled up to their building and the driver opened the door.
‘Good evening, Mr Cavelli,’ the doorman called, but Larenzo brushed past him with no more than a nod, his hand still holding Emma’s.
The elevator felt even smaller and more airless than before as they rode in silence to the penthouse. Emma could feel the heavy thuds of her heart, and each desperate breath she took sounded loud and laboured in the confines of the elevator. Larenzo’s jaw was bunched, his gaze on the floor numbers as they slid past and the elevator rose higher, higher. Another breath. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and her wrap slithered off her shoulders, trailing to the floor.
Only a few more seconds and they would be in the apartment, they would be alone...
The doors swooshed open and Larenzo stepped out into the hallway, swiping his key card before the door creaked open. Emma followed behind him, the blood beginning to roar in her ears. She closed the door behind her as Larenzo turned to her, and even in the dim lighting of the hall she could see the hunger on his face, and it thrilled her.
He pressed her back against the door, his breathing ragged as he curled one hand around the nape of her neck and brought his lips down hard on hers.
‘Mr Cavelli?’
The sound of the babysitter’s voice, and her light footsteps coming down the hall, was like a bucket of ice water thrown over them. Larenzo jerked back and then turned to face the babysitter. Emma sagged against the door, disappointment swamping her along with the still-potent desire. Her lips burned.
Distantly she heard Larenzo speak to the woman, and numbly, with a murmured thanks, Emma moved aside so she could leave. The click of the door and the distant ping of the elevator seemed to echo through the foyer; Larenzo switched on the lights, bathing them both in an electric glow. Emma blinked under the bright glare, painfully conscious now at how completely the mood had been broken.
‘Well.’ Larenzo hesitated, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his face partially averted from hers. ‘It’s late.’
Emma swallowed. ‘Yes.’
The silence stretched on, but it didn’t feel expectant. It felt like disappointment. Failure.
Larenzo let out a sigh so small and sad Emma almost didn’t hear it. Almost didn’t see the way his shoulders slumped for a single second before he straightened and turned away from her.
‘Goodnight, Emma,’ he said, and she watched him walk away. The click of his bedroom door shutting was as final a sound as she’d ever heard.
She stood in the hallway for a moment, then switched off the lights and breathed in the darkness. Once again Larenzo had backed off. Once again she was alone, aching with emptiness and unfulfilled desire.
But it didn’t have to be this way.
The thought alone sent anticipation as well as fear racing through her, tingling every nerve ending. Quietly Emma moved through the apartment, switching on the dishwasher, tidying up the kitchen, checking on Ava. And all the while she was thinking about what she could do. What she wanted to do.
She could go in Larenzo’s room, not even knock. Slip inside quietly and...
And what? Seduce him, when her only experience was that one night with him, and he had thousands of conquests notched on his proverbial bedpost?
Holding her hands up to her face, Emma let out a shaky laugh. The truth was, she had no idea what she was doing. No experience.
But she could try. Even when it was risky. Especially when it was risky. She knew bone-deep that Larenzo would keep backing off, because of his history. She was the one who needed to make the first move, take the first step. Risk her heart.
Alone in her bedroom, she gazed out at Central Park now shrouded in darkness. Her heart was starting to beat hard again, just as it had been when they’d been waiting in the elevator. When she’d been so sure something was going to happen.
