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Resolution burning within her, Giada sucked in a sustaining breath and slid from the bed. Then glanced back, the compulsion impossible to resist.
He remained asleep, a thick strand of hair tumbling over his forehead. His sleek bronze upper body was on full display, the sheets tangled around his lean hips.
She turned away from the masterpiece that was Alessio Montaldi, her feet weighted with lead as she caught up her dressing robe and dragged herself along the darkened hallways and back to her room. To the cold sheets that should’ve restored a slice of sanity but only reminded her what she’d left behind.
It didn’t...couldn’tmatter.
Now she’d placed most of her cards on the table, she needed to work on extricating herself from this nightmare. Her fingers trembled as she searched for the phone she hadn’t used in almost a week and turned it on, hoping against hope that there was a signal now the snow had stopped.
But fate and the tech gods weren’t in a giving mood.
Tossing it aside, she determinedly slid back between the sheets and closed her eyes, fully expecting to toss and turn till daybreak. But perhaps, because she was still caught in the aftermath of a thousand emotional cyclones, sleep swiftly overcame her. Sleep crowded with dreams of writhing bodies and thick words of passion that made her cry out in pleasure only to be thwarted at the final culmination, making a complete mockery of her restfulness.
Still, she told herself she’d done the right thing as she rose and showered, donning ripped leggings before adding her bra, the see-through top she still detested, and the sweater.
Feeling exposed, she stepped out of the bedroom.
The smell of coffee drew her to the kitchen, and when that turned out to be empty, to the dining room, and the man sitting at the head of the elegant oak table, his gaze on the inch-thick document next to his coffee cup.
Giada took a moment to ground herself, to will her mind away from what had happened last night. But the curtains were open, and the light was falling on him, and she was weak enough to just...absorbhis dynamic beauty, which transcended extraordinary good looks.
Something so uniquely him she doubted it could be replicated in this lifetime or the next, despite him being dressed in a simple pair of cashmere sweats and a black T-shirt.
Giada tried not to stare at the corded muscles that rippled beneath the fabric when he sensed her scrutiny, lifted his head and caught her gaze from across the room.
Where she’d expected cold indifference, there was narrow-eyed scrutiny that held...pained affront. He tracked her as she crossed to her seat.
A tall carafe of coffee waited and, to her surprise, the domed dish he waved her to next to his.
She lifted the lid and saw crispy bacon and scrambled eggs. On the table, a silver rack of fresh golden toast waited. ‘You cooked?’
One eyebrow arched. ‘You seem surprised.’
She was. Except his expressive eyes said she’d wronged him anew.
‘Did you expect to survive on leftovers indefinitely?’ he asked.
‘Well, hopefully not indefinitely.’
Perhaps he noted her desperation as her gaze flicked to the window. Or he was just vexed with her because when she looked back, his jaw was set.
‘If you’re hoping to make a quick escape, you’re going to be disappointed. The weather forecast predicts much of the same for the next few days, at the very least. Looks like we’re definitely spending Christmas here.’
A pained sound escaped her before she could stop it.
He stiffened, eyed her with deep sardonicism. ‘Was I that bad in bed?’
She gasped as her head swung towards him. His face remained an irritated mask, but something lurked in his eyes. ‘I... What do you mean?’
‘You look downright wretched at the thought of spending a minute more in this place whereas yesterday you’d almost accepted the situation.’
She tucked her hair behind her ear, her senses leaping and twisting just from his scent and body heat. ‘You can’t deny that a lot has happened since yesterday, besides the...the...’
‘Sex?’ he supplied in a droll tone.
A blush ate up her face and his features thawed just a tiny fraction.
She licked her lips and almost moaned at their sensitivity. ‘Not necessarily. I would’ve thought you’d like to get out of here even more than I would.’
