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‘I do the therapy so I can become who I was. Or as close as I can get to who I was before the crash.’
I nodded. ‘Okay,’ I said. Not sure why he was telling me this.
‘But there is something else I lost. My appetite—which is something only you can help me get back.’
I tugged my hand free, feeling trapped and wary and needy... But worst of all was the trickle of disappointment—which was silly—at the memory of him telling me the night before he had worked on the therapy to become the man he had been, for me.
I had beenhiredto cook for him. Nothing more. He’d probably only said that last night because he had wanted to sleep with me, and to be fair it had totally worked.
‘I’m not the only person who can cook for you,’ I said, making it clear I didn’t care that was all he had ever really wanted of me. ‘You’ll like the guy who’s replacing me.’ I said, struggling to remain professional, and unmoved. ‘He’s Italian. He was the head chef in a restaurant in Rome called Deliziosa, one of the best in the region. You’re going to adore his tiramisu, it’s...’
He pressed a finger to my lips, cutting off the unconvincing babble.
‘That is not the appetite I am talking of,Principessa.’
I blinked, my cheeks flushing at the blatant hunger in his gaze.
‘I... That’s... Last night was a mistake.’ My embarrassment was made worse by the deep pulsing at my core—and the memory of my startlingly swift orgasm, almost as soon as he had entered me. ‘Last night. That’s not what I was hired for,’ I managed, all but choking on my mortification now.
To my horror, his smile spread into a grin and he started to chuckle. His husky laughter was so much more relaxed and natural than when he had first laughed in my presence all those weeks ago. But I refused to be beguiled by it.
‘This is good, is it not?’ he said, finally controlling his amusement. ‘Or that would make me a man who pays women for sex.’ He laughed some more at my expense. ‘I have done many things I am not proud of,Principessa. But this is not one of them.’
His mocking tone, and the sparkle of humour in his eyes, had my temper fraying. After a virtually sleepless night, and my frantic desperation to get out of here as quickly as possible, I was so not in the mood to be the butt of his jokes.
I untied my apron. ‘I need to leave. You can make your own breakfast. I’m not being paid for today anyway,’ I announced, slapping the apron onto the countertop.
But as I tried to march past him, he caught my wrist.
‘I apologise,Principessa,’ he said, tugging me forward, until I found myself trapped between his strong thighs. I could still see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, but it was the hooded emotion in his gaze which disturbed me more. ‘Do not be upset.’
I struggled against his hold, aware of his scent, his nearness, the ripple of arousal becoming a wave.
‘You just called me a prostitute,’ I said, hating the defensiveness in my voice, the obvious overreaction to his words which I couldn’t seem to control, because my emotions were still in turmoil from last night. Unlike his. ‘I think I’ve got a right to be upset.’
His smile died, and for a moment a stricken look flashed across his face, but it was gone so fast I was sure I had imagined it.
‘On the contrary,’ he said carefully, the smile returning, but looking less amused now. ‘I said this is what you are not. I do not forget I was your first lover,Principessa.’
I sighed and stopped fighting against his hold.
Not that again.
Surely, he couldn’t feel responsible for taking my virginity.
‘That was a long time ago,’ I said. ‘I’m certainly not a virgin anymore,’ I added, trying to sound as assertive—and jaded—as I could.
The last thing I wanted him to know was that he was still the only man I’d ever slept with. Because then he would want to know why. And I didn’t want to tell him about the miscarriage. The pregnancy I had lost which had only ever been real to me. Because somehow that pain felt too intimate, and too personal.
Not only that, but if he knew he was still my only lover, it would probably turbocharge his ego. And it looked as if that was more than robust enough again after last night.
He cupped my chin, tilted my face up so I was forced to meet his gaze.
‘So, if you are no longer new to sex,’ he said carefully. ‘You will know, last night was not good.’ The smile on his lips contradicted the intensity in his gaze. ‘Or not as good as it should have been. I should have taken my time. You are a woman I wish to feast on, and instead I devoured you in a few quick bites. Much as I did with your delicious food when I first tasted it.’
Is he actually serious right now?
Heat flared across my collarbone, which was not really selling my “I’m totally a woman of the world” shtick. But it was the best I could do in the circumstances. I’d never had such an intimate conversation before with anyone. One that was freaking me out and turning me on at the same time.
