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‘But that doesn’t mean we should.’
‘Tell me why not.’
‘It will only complicate things.’
His laugh was short. ‘Cara, our physical attraction is the only thing between us that is not complicated. What could be more simple, more natural, than desire between a man and a woman?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t come here to sleep with you.’
‘Yet you just admitted you want to.’ More than anything else that frank admission fired his blood. Drowned out the rational part of his brain urging him to concede this was a bad idea.
She wedged her palms against his chest, shoved with surprising strength. Caught off guard, he rocked back on his heels.
‘Is this how it works, Leo?’ She shot to her feet and glared down at him, arms akimbo. ‘You buy me a dress and expect me to demonstrate my gratitude with sex?’
For a second he stared at her. Then, as her words sank in, he launched himself up, his blood roaring in his ears like the bellow of a wounded bull. The idea that he would use material gifts as leverage for sex was galling. Distasteful. He balled his hands lest he do something foolish like grab her and shake her. Demand an apology.
She collected her purse and shoes. ‘I’m tired,’ she said, her gaze avoiding his. ‘I’m going to bed.’ Alone. She didn’t need to say the word; it was implicit in her tone.
Hands fisted, heart thumping furiously, Leo stood silent and watched her stalk from the room. When he heard the closing snick of the guest room door he snatched up the first aid kit, strode into the kitchen and rammed it in a drawer.
He shoved his fingers through his hair.
Air. That was what he needed. And lots of it.
He shed his jacket, stepped onto the terrace and stared out over the endless tiled rooftops and church domes of Rome. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, forcing his chest to expand and contract with each lungful of air. His anger slackened in a matter of minutes but his body stayed tense, trapped in a state of aching arousal he was powerless to quell.
Powerless.
He clenched his jaw. No. That wasn’t right.
‘Powerless’ was holding on to his mother while the skies thundered and raged and the cancer stole the last of the light from her eyes. ‘Powerless’ was watching his father drown in the murky waters of addiction that had blinded him to his children and finally taken his life. ‘Powerless’ was walking into an ICU and seeing his sister’s broken body, then turning around and walking out so she wouldn’t see her big brother cry.
‘Powerless’ was not, by any stretch of its definition, some pathetic inability to bring his libido under control.
And yet this burning need Helena aroused in him, this inferno in his belly, would not be doused.
Turning on his heel, he marched inside and headed down the hall.
This night was not over.
Not by a long shot.
* * *
Helena stood barefoot in the en suite bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. ‘Congratulations,’ her reflection sneered. ‘You just earned the rank of fi
rst-class bitch.’
She laid her palms on the cold marble vanity unit and closed her eyes. Her body hummed with a current of sexual energy, her nipples felt exquisitely sensitive, and the wet heat of arousal lingered between her thighs.
Dammit. Why had he pushed? Why had she panicked? And why had she let that awful accusation fly from her mouth? His shocked face flashed into her mind and another burst of regret soured her tongue. She’d expected him to get angry with her; she hadn’t expected him to look hurt.
She straightened and ran her hand over her stomach. If she and Leo had made love would he have noticed any changes in her body? Any subtle post-pregnancy differences?
She had no stretch marks, thanks to the diligent use of hydrating oils and the benefit of youth. And, while her midsection was slightly more curvaceous than before, overall her body was thinner. No. She would not have needed to worry, she thought with an odd mix of certainty and regret. Her body would not have given up her secrets.
Heaving a sigh, she pulled the pins from her hair, undid the gown’s halter neck and let the seamless fabric glide down her body. With a tiny pang of regret she went to the wardrobe and hung up the dress, well away from her own clothes. The stunning silk creation had made her feel sexy and confident, more feminine than she had in years, but she could not accept it as a gift.
