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Self-loathing slithered through her stomach to writhe like a nest of vipers and she curled into the deep bucket seat to ease the ache.
No phone. No way to call Nate. No chance of escape. And she was flying straight into enemy territory.
If she got through this in one piece and found her way home it would be a miracle.
CHAPTER FIVE
HE FELT LIKE the big bad wolf. In more ways than one. Furious self-censure and unparalleled carnal hunger took equal pleasure in tearing at his insides with razor-sharp claws until he wanted to growl.
The lust made his body thrum with pent-up energy, yet all he wanted to do was storm over there, pick her up and put her right back on his knee. Eradicate the pain in her eyes by wrapping her up in his arms and holding her tightly to him.
Dios, when tears had glistened in those big, beautiful eyes he’d felt as if a bullet had ripped clean through his chest. He’d been a little boy again, looking up at his mother, unsure what to do, how to take her heartache away. A heartache that once again he didn’t truly understand. And that had made him feel lost. Racking his brains to think of some way to stem her misery. Because somehow his mother had always managed to quell his, take his pain away—back when his flesh could feel such a sensation, that was.
Rubbing over his jaw, he recalled how touching her had often worked—holding her cold, trembling hand or trying to wrap his small, thin arms around her shoulders to hug her, wishing he was bigger, stronger. Instinctively he’d reached for Luciana, but she didn’t want his touch. While he’d always treasured hers. Touch was precious to him, he realised. Infinitely rare and beyond price, it was something he hadn’t experienced or allowed himself to feel since he’d been seven years old. Until Luciana.
‘I hate you…’
How her words tormented him. How her tears made him feel barbaric. As brutal as his father.
While he still owned what he’d had to do, he conceded his tactics might not have been the most honourable. Had he been wrong to take his chance? Hell, no. Not when the alternative was her marrying another man. A man she didn’t even wish to marry! Still, luring her onto a flight using their chemistry, when she’d exploded like some hot, sensual, sultry bomb in his hands, and then almost initiating them into the ranks of the mile-high club wasn’t exactly coaxing her towards a priest with a gentle hand, was it?
The memory of her furiously wild, uninhibited passion made him shift in his seat with restless virile power—as if his body had lain dormant for an age of cold bleak winters and she’d awoken the deep-seated animalistic lust inside him.
And right then the truth crashed down around him.
For the first time in years he was feeling, and he was chasing it with the urgency and fervour of a madman. He felt hungry, starved of affection, and suddenly he despised it. Didn’t want her to have that kind of terrific power over him. He’d had more control when he’d been handed his first gun at twelve.
Lurching from his seat, he went to stalk to his office, where he could think straight, past the chair where she sat curled up, knees bent, hugging them to her chest, in a pose that struck him as a defensive ball—and he slammed to a stop.
Thumb-print-shaped blotches reddened her silky soft thighs, courtesy of his rough ardour, and her neck was scored pink from where he’d kissed her, dragged his unshaven jaw up her delicate throat. Ravaged. She looked ravaged.
Dios, had he hurt her?
He closed his eyes, his conscience riven by self-contempt.
Maybe he didn’t deserve to have her in his life again. He could never be good inside, where it mattered. That had been twisted out of him as a boy. He was darkness and she was all golden light.
Good versus evil. Beautiful versus beastly. Flawless versus scarred.
Fatigue lent a beautiful fragility to her face. And when a shiver rustled over her honey-gold skin his guts twisted tight. She looked scared, miserable and attacked. So damn vulnerable.
Idiot he was—of course she’d be worried. While they’d spent one month in each other’s arms there were years of animosity between their countries.
Opening one of the top cupboards, he pulled down some thick fluffy blankets and lowered into a crouch before her.
Her little bow-shaped mouth was mutinous in her heart shaped face. ‘Get away from me, Thane.’
‘Luciana,’ he said, his voice rich and smooth, ‘I am sorry I’ve upset you this badly.’
