Chapter 2 #2
She frowned. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to explain about her engagement, how long she and Aaron had been together, how fresh the breakup still was, how much it still hurt like a bitch.
But when she thought of speaking the words, it hollowed her out.
In her story, she was the victim. A hapless fool of a woman who’d loved without thinking, who’d sacrificed everything for the man she thought was her soulmate, and she really didn’t want Raf seeing her that way.
“Is it that unusual?”
His lips flickered in that way he had, as though he was thinking something he didn’t want to share. “For me, yes.”
Curiosity sparked inside of her. For all she had her reasons for being the way she was, he undoubtedly did likewise. And a part of her wanted to unpick those reasons, thread by thread. To really come to understand him. But to what end? He’d made it abundantly clear that’s not what this night was.
“Where are we going?”
Another twist of his mouth. “Mayfair.”
“Of course Mayfair.” Where else would someone like him life?
He seemed to be closer but neither of them had moved. Only, with every mile the car ate up, she felt increasingly aware of him. “So, what changed your mind?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
“Regret?”
She glanced towards the window instead of looking directly at him. Regret, yes, but also, anger. Anger at her ex, at the way he could so callously ask her for a favour after throwing a grenade into her life.
“Something like that.”
“You don’t have to tell me, Elodie.” God, but she loved hearing him say her name. He made it sound like a song: a beautiful, haunted song that pulled at the fibres of her soul. “All I care about is that you did change your mind.”
She’d been so certain when she’d walked out of the bar, but her insides were looping in on themselves now, and by the time his car slipped into a small alley and then into a double garage, she was a bundle of feelings.
Nervousness, anticipation, anger, sadness.
A sense that she was betraying Aaron, even when he was the one who’d done that.
A feeling that her life was about to shift in a whole new direction.
But there was also excitement, because for so long she’d given everything to Aaron and to the building of their shared life, with no regard for her life, her wishes, her needs.
The driver came around and opened Elodie’s door, but by the time she stepped out, Raf was standing there, his large frame somehow reassuring and essential.
The hand he put in the small of her back was light, a chivalrous gesture designed to guide her away from the car and through the spacious garage, somehow a contradiction to the suave air he’d exuded in the bar.
From the garage—who had a spacious garage in Mayfair, anyway?
—they stepped into a long corridor, subtly lit with marble tiles and high ceilings, and a wall of windows that opened onto a garden with big, old trees.
They were illuminated from the base, glowing with a hint of gold, so she knew in daylight, it would be quite spectacular.
Like most of the properties in the area, she presumed his house to be Georgian, but inside, it was an homage to sleek modernity, from the polished dark timber features to the crisp white walls, and minimalist artwork.
They entered into a large, open-plan living space, with a crystal chandelier in the centre of the room.
“Nice place,” she murmured, aware it was an epic understatement. His place was more like a palace.
“I’m glad you like it.”
She wrinkled her nose, aware she hadn’t said that, exactly.
For while it was undoubtedly an incredible home, there was something so cold and sterile about the way it was decorated, with no hint of Raf’s individual personality.
It felt as though he were simply housesitting, she thought, glancing around.
Then again, this was only one part of the house, perhaps he liked to keep certain spaces clear of anything too personal.
“Drink?”
She opened her mouth to demur, then changed her mind. Her nerves were rioting and a sip of something might calm them. “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”
His features showed amusement, but he didn’t say anything to contradict her, instead, striding across the room to a discreetly furnished bar.
He removed a bottle of something and poured two glasses, carrying them both back across the room.
This time, he came close, though, standing almost toe to toe with her, so every single cell in her body both rejoiced and panicked.
“To tonight,” he said, passing the drink to her.
She took it, grimacing a little at the strong scent, before letting it touch her lips. She had the smallest of sips, and was glad, because even that miniscule amount landed in her belly like an explosion of acid. Unlike her, Raf threw the whole glass back in one motion.
“You were right,” he said, lips twisting in a smile that made her insides heat. “You’re not a drinker.”
“No,” she murmured.
“Why do you sound apologetic?”
Her eyes widened. “Do I?”
He nodded once, taking the glass from her. “You don’t need to be anything other than who you are.”
“I thought it might make me feel less nervous.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why are you nervous, Elodie?”
Her tummy looped at the way he spoke her name.
“Because you don’t do this often?”
“Actually, I’ve never done this.”
At that, his mask slipped slightly, his face showing genuine surprise. And fear? “Had sex?” he clarified.
She shook her head. “No, no. I mean, I’ve had sex. I’m just not…I don’t go home with random men I meet in bars.”
“Ah.” He relaxed visibly. “But there’s a first time for everything.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her gaze dropping to the stubbled column of his throat. “You have a tattoo.”
One tiny sip of Scotch surely couldn’t have affected her, but she felt lightheaded and a little under the influence when she made the observation. Except, both of those feelings had more to do with the man standing directly in front of her, than anything else.
“I have several, in fact. Would you like to see?”
Her breath hitched in her throat and before she realized what she was doing, she found herself nodding her agreement. Yes, she wanted to see. She wanted to see everything.
With eyes still latched to hers, he lifted his hands to his jacket first, removing it from his body and letting it fall to the floor.
A moment later, his tanned fingers began to work the buttons of his shirt, so breathing became almost impossible as the fabric sides separated slowly and then revealed his chest in full.
A burst of breath hissed from beneath her teeth as she stared at the image of a snake across his pecs and flicking up towards his throat.
Beneath it, in a curving script, were words written in Italian.
Elodie had been learning Italian through an app on her phone for two years, in preparation for their month-long honeymoon, but the words were unknown to her. La fiducia è un veleno. She lifted her gaze to his. “What does it mean?”
His smile was cynical. “Trust is a poison.”
It speared right into her heart. “Never truer words were spoken,” she murmured, immediately contemplating getting a tattoo all of her own, to serve as a reminder for why she needed to avoid ever letting her guard down again.
“I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
And before she could stop herself, she was lifting a trembling hand towards his chest, so her finger could trail the snake’s tail, her eyes shifting from the ink to Raf’s face and back again, while her heart thumped hard to her ribs.
She knew what was happening, and yet the longer it took for him to kiss her, to touch her, to take her to bed, the more agonizing the waiting was becoming.
“Did you bring me here to show me your tattoo, or…”
He smiled then—a genuine smile that even brought a hint of light to his eyes. “Amongst other things,” he said, shrugging casually. But she was already moving closer, to remove any distance between them.
“It is a very impressive tattoo.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
The air between them seemed to spark.
“Take me to bed, Raf.” Before I change my mind, she thought, inwardly, aware that her commitment was hanging by a thread.
And yet, when his eyes flared and his head dipped lower, and his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was as ferocious as it was desperately skilled, any doubts flew from her mind.
It was like a fire had been lit in her soul, for the first time in her life, and she was ready to be burned to a crisp by it…
What chance was there for regret, when her soul had been delivered to the gates of heaven, Elodie thought to herself as she silently pulled her clothes back on, in the small hours of the morning.
Raf was fast asleep on his enormous, luxurious bed, which they’d eventually made their way to.
But not before an incredibly passionate, borderline debauched few hours in his palatial lounge room.
He’d worshipped her body, let her worship his, had driven her wild with his touch, his kiss, his skillful handling of her, so that by the time he’d thrust into her, her nerves had been stretched almost to breaking point with the most intense need she’d ever known.
And then, when she was still floating on cloud nine, he’d carried her to the bedroom and begun all over again, stirring her once more, building that same flame of need, until she’d been incandescent with longing and capable only of screaming his name at the top of her lungs, over and over again, into the darkness of his bedroom.
She’d been exhausted afterwards, but simultaneously, too wired to sleep.
She hadn’t expected to feel that pull; she hadn’t expected to feel anything remotely like that.
To compare sex with Raf to sex with Aaron would have been akin to comparing night and day, or life and death.
Polar opposites. One was perfunctory and practiced, lacking in spontaneity, and, she now had to admit, true pleasure; the other was a masterclass in sensation.
For the first time since Aaron had ended their engagement, Elodie found herself wondering if he’d been right. He’d said they were settling for each other out of habit, and at the time, those words had cut her deeply. But was he right?
La fiducia è un veleno. Trust is a poison.
The etching beneath Raf’s tattoo kept tumbling through her mind though, so she knew that whatever demons were in his past, they were equal to hers.
One night was all this could ever be. Rather than face an awkward conversation in the morning, or risk asking him for more, Elodie took the coward’s way out, and crept from his home under cover of darkness.
Grateful for the best sex of her life, and already regretting that it could only be one night…
Raf had planned to stay in London another month or two, but instead, he flew out two days later.
He had homes all over the world, business interests to keep him occupied.
He chose Sydney as his destination, aware that he was selecting a location based purely on it being as far as he could possibly get from the temptation that was Elodie.
Hell, he didn’t even know her last name, and thank God for that.
Since Marcia, he’d had one inviolable rule: one night only.
He didn’t go back for seconds. He didn’t let himself, no matter how satisfying the sex.
He didn’t open himself up to the possibility of getting to know a woman, of letting her get under his skin.
Trust was a poison, and he’d felt its sting before. He never would again.