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A few minutes later, he joins me in the bedroom.
I keep my back to him, afraid he'll see the truth in my eyes.
The rustle of fabric behind me and I realize with a jolt that he's undressing.
Curiosity gets the better of me.
I turn to find him bare-chested, his tanned skin glowing in the morning light filtering through the window.
He unbuckles his belt, eyes locked on mine, a silent challenge.
Heat pools low in my belly.
I want to look away but can't.
He kicks off his jeans and stalks closer, clad only in his boxer briefs.
"I'm going for a quick shower before we leave," his voice is rough with desire.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. "Okay."
When he exits, he's dripping wet.
"I can't find my clothes," he says, the towel wrapped around his waist.
"Here," I say, handing it to him.
By mistake, I thought I needed to pack them.
He takes them, but I keep holding on.
He looks into my eyes, and I realize, I can no longer control myself.
I move my face up, closer to his.
He bends his head, brushing his lips over mine.
My eyes flutter shut as he deepens the kiss.
His hands roam over my body, setting my skin aflame.
I moan into his mouth, my resolve crumbling.
When we break apart, panting, he rests his forehead against mine.
"I want this, Diana. I want you. The past doesn't matter. Only this, only us."
His words make me ache with longing.
I card my fingers through his hair, damp from his shower.
"I want this too. But Anthony, our is an arrangement—"
"Forget about that." Anthony nuzzles my neck, his stubble rasping against my throat.
"Our fathers shouldn't control us anymore."
"It's not that simple." I tilt my head to give him better access, desire warring with duty in my mind.
