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‘You’re still lucky,’ he murmured, sliding his finger across her cheek, which was as smooth as satin. ‘You have a support system that’s been there for you through thick and thin.’
‘And you haven’t.’ Celia was just stating a fact.
‘No. Which—’ there was wry amusement in his voice ‘—is probably why I have never fallen ill. I’ve always known that I wouldn’t have anyone around to play nursemaid and mop my fevered brow.’
Celia thought that there would be a long line of women all dying to play nursemaid to Leandro. She figured that he would have to erect a wall of steel to stop them from stampeding into his house, bearing thermometers and cups of tea, able and willing to minister to his every need.
She didn’t have to join too many dots to figure out what he wasn’t saying.
Leandro didn’twantanyone to play nursemaid with him. He didn’twantthat level of involvement from any woman because that would have encouraged a conversation aboutcommitmentthat he would never have.
She was here now and what choice did he have when it came to nursemaids?
She was the sole candidate and so she knew that she shouldn’t be reading anything into the intimacy swirling around them now.
Logic having asserted itself, Celia knew that she should drily tell him exactly what she was thinking, then she should change the subject and leave because he needed to get some sleep and so did she, but instead she remained silent.
Her body was melting. It was on fire and, deep inside, the bloom of a craving she had never felt before was spreading through her. It made her limbs feel heavy and, between her legs, warm wetness was pooling, liquid heat that made her breathing sluggish.
The dangerous notion that somehow the here and now wasrealthreaded a way through common sense and cold reason. After all, hadn’t they confided in one another? With the snow falling outside, thick and dense and wrapping them in a bubble? She felt that he’d opened up to her in ways he hadn’t foreseen and she’d certainly done the same, telling him about Martin and about how she’d felt when he’d settled down with someone else five minutes after she’d returned his engagement ring. Beautiful, leggy,niceAnnabelle.
She leant into him and closed her eyes to the kiss she knew was coming, one she wanted so much. The kiss that would clear her head of everything, take her back to a time before disappointment and disillusionment had made their mark. And yet, as his lips met hers, she was still rocked to the very core.
Her hands feverishly smoothed his broad, hard chest, with its sprinkling of dark hair. She didn’t even want to come up for air! Who needed to breathe?
As his mouth travelled along her neck, she gasped and sifted her fingers through his dark hair, pulling him towards her.
Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive. She wasn’t wearing a bra but under the layers, the thermal vest and the jumper, she could feel the scrape of her nipples against the fabric.
She longed to lose herself completely in the present but, of course, that was not how she had been brought up. She’d been brought up to think about consequences. She pushed him back, but it was like surfacing from a warm, cosy blanket to the bitter cold of Arctic air.
He released her instantly, but when he pulled back she could see that his breathing was as uneven as hers.
‘Leandro,’ she husked. ‘That... I’m sorry...’
‘Not your fault.’
‘That shouldn’t have happened.’ She was almost disappointed when, after a moment’s hesitation, he raked his fingers through his hair and muttered agreement.
‘I... I don’t know what...’ She laughed self-consciously.
‘I would never make a pass at a woman before knowing that there’s an invite on the table...the kind of guy who touches what’s out of bounds...’ Leo said.
Celia thought that the last thing she had been a few moments ago wasout of bounds. She’d matched his kiss with equal passion, as though the walls of the dam had dropped away and nothing could stop the torrent of uncontrolled water.
‘I’ll go now...get some sleep.’
‘Yes.’ Their eyes met. His kiss was still on his mouth and she wanted more.
So she was the romantic type. She would always be the romantic type, a woman who would never allow lessons learnt to warp her vision ofTrue Love. He didn’t get it, himself, but then no two people were ever the same.
That said...she’d closed herself off from men since she’d returned that engagement ring to the guy who’d promptly replaced her with someone else. That said...whatever fairy tales she believed in when it came to Love, she was too scared to seek it out because of what had happened. He’d seen those shadows on her face when she’d told him about her replacement, and he’d known there and then that the depth of her hurt had come not just from the bruising of her ego because her engagement had ended in tears.Thatwas something that would have shaken her, but its effect wouldn’t have been lasting. He’d believed her when she’d said that she’d understood how right the ex had been in calling it off. Too young...invisible pressure to drift into something everyone expected...in love with the feeling of being in love.
But then her ex had hooked up with another woman no sooner than he’d finished hisDear Johnor, in this case,Dear Jillspeech to her. And not just that...he’d hooked up with a woman Celia felt was superior to her physically. Leandro was sure that she couldn’t have been further from the truth on that count, but the fact remained that self-confidence in herself as awomanhad taken a beating andthatwas what had held her back.
She fancied him. Leandro had felt it in the urgency of her mouth against his and the eager caressing of her hands and, hell, he couldn’t remember fancying any woman as much as he did her.
But, in her head, sex was all tied up with Love and how wrong she was.
