Chapter Seven #3
‘You must have a bunch more calls to make,’ she murmured, avoiding the wariness in his eyes. ‘To check on your neighbours and everyone.’ She glanced at the phone. Sure enough, it was lighting up with notifications. ‘I’ll go for a walk in the garden while you’re busy.’
He nodded. She took a bowl of fruit and yoghurt with her. She needed some fresh air and some space for herself.
The grounds hadn’t suffered badly in the storm—leaves were scattered about the place but the sodden patches were already drying out.
She walked the perimeter of the small lake, drawing in the fresh air.
It truly was a private paradise—those high, boring walls hid its beauty from the world.
But this was definitely the place in which Sante roamed untamed—unclothed even—alone and at peace.
And somehow, that thought made her heart ache.
The wrought iron and glass summerhouse she glimpsed through the trees was too magical not to investigate.
It was unlocked and happily also undamaged.
There was some extra furniture stacked in the corner but otherwise it was carefully filled with tropical plants that had flourished through the winter.
Someone took huge care of this place. Tired and struggling to keep that unwelcome sadness at bay, she sank onto the plush chaise and put her feet up.
She’d had very little sleep last night and she hated the fact she still ached for more intimacy with Sante.
‘Mia?’
She stirred, blinking drowsily.
‘You okay?’ Sante came into her view. ‘You’re very quiet.’
‘Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a twenty-four-seven noisemaker.’ She sat up, awkward and flustered.
‘Okay.’ He moved forward. ‘So it’s not that you’re regretting…’
‘There’s nothing wrong and I have no regrets. You do more thinking than speaking sometimes. If you must know, I was napping.’ She gestured around the summerhouse, wanting to move the subject on because she’d realised she’d shared too much with him this weekend.
She’d adored having sex with him but she’d liked talking with him as well.
He was a surprisingly good listener and she’d opened herself up a little too much.
She needed to rein it in. She always gave too much of herself to people who didn’t actually want it.
But Sante challenged the self-protective methods she’d learned to employ far too easily.
Hell, he only had to look at her and her defences melted.
‘The helicopter will be here in an hour. It’s less than a two-hour flight to Rome so you’ll be home by lunchtime.’
‘Thank you. That definitely sounds better than the trip I took to get here.’ She still couldn’t drag her gaze from his. ‘Are you coming back to Rome today?’ She tensed as her stupid voice quivered.
He hesitated. ‘I need to check on my neighbours in person.’
‘Of course.’ Mia stood.
It would be best to leave him here but she kept staring at him, and he at her, and that scorching desire rose within her again. Restless, she waved about the greenhouse. ‘This place is—’
He stepped forward and crushed her in his arms. With a relieved moan she kissed him back—every bit as hard and as hungry.
He was right. No more making polite conversation to fill in the last little time they had left together.
This was her last chance to touch him. To explore his physical perfection.
To make him quiver and shake and shout and she went for it.
‘Mia,’ he sighed jerkily, trying to catch her hands and wrest back control.
But she ignored him, kissing down his body and wrapping a firm hand around his shaft to hold him firm so she could tease him with her tongue and then suck him in deep and revel in his throaty groans.
This was what she wanted—for him to be felled by her.
And she got it—until the moment he flipped and paid her back. With interest.
Almost an hour later he pressed her to him, gently stroking her back, keeping her in place against him as they both struggled for breath.
She tucked her face into the side of his neck and avoided his eyes and drew in his warmth and scent.
With body and soul aching, she appreciated these last moments of intimacy.
It was the sweetest embrace of her life.
Which meant it took her a moment to realise the rhythmic noise growing louder was the approaching helicopter. She startled, heart stopping.
‘It’s okay,’ he muttered. ‘It’ll wait.’
No. It was time to go. The sooner she was out of here now, the better.
Mia darted into the beautiful en suite and pulled herself together.
Sante walked her down a winding path to a helipad.
His frown was back. The square jaw. She just knew the man would say nothing so she made herself smile brightly.
‘Um, thank you for…’
He just stared at her. Right. What was she thanking him for? Why feel the need to act polite as if this had been some nice social interaction, not the hottest most intense experience of her life?
She cleared her throat, determined to be resolute and dignified. ‘No regrets, no repeats.’
She had to pretend as if this had never happened. As if it had just been a delicious dream.
‘Back to work,’ she added. ‘Back to a professional distance.’
‘Of course,’ he muttered his agreement shortly. ‘Not a problem.’