Chapter Ten #2
I set my own spoon down carefully. “So, a child?”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“You were a child, Diana. You don’t have to risk your life to do penance for your past.”
She pushes back from the table. “Don’t act like you know me.”
My own temper snaps as I watch her walk to the window, stare out over the darkening landscape as she turns her back to me.
“How can I?” I demand as I stand. “You keep yourself locked up so tight I only see the tiny bits you share because you feel like you have to.”
“I’ve shared more with you than anyone else in a very long time.”
“Including my brother?”
She whirls around, color high in her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t.” Months of suppressed fury roar to life. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to know you were in my brother’s bed after mine? To wonder what you’ve shared with him, what he knows that I don’t?”
Her hands ball into fists at her sides. “You didn’t even care that night! You acted like I was barely there.”
“What else was I supposed to do? No, tell me,” I order as she looks away. “Tell Liam how we spent the evening before he proposed? How would that have gone over?”
Her sigh is heavy. “I don’t know.”
I pause. If I had been in Liam’s shoes and had found out Diana had slept with someone the night before I’d proposed, I would have wanted to tear down the world.
“You don’t know?”
Her head jerks up. “He would have been upset, of course. I just… It’s not like we were together before that. So I’d like to think he’d understand, but…”
Her voice trails off as she runs a hand through her hair. Last night, she didn’t answer if she had ever been in love with Liam. And now she’s not even sure if Liam would have been upset by his fiancée being in another man’s bed the night before he proposed.
What the hell happened between the two of them?
“He’s still one of my best friends. I don’t want to lose that.
” She scrubs a hand over her face. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
I don’t even know why we’re fighting. I’m not comparing what I’ve shared with you to what I’ve shared with others in my life.
If you think what I’ve shared with you is worthless, you can—”
I close the distance between us and grab her shoulders. “Not worthless. Never worthless.”
She freezes. The fight leaves her eyes as she blinks at me as if she can’t process what I just said.
“I…”
She tilts her head up. The air between us thickens. Desire sets her eyes on fire as I give into my own and let my fingers trail up the column of her neck, the smoothness of her jaw, then slip into the damp silkiness of her hair.
I could have lost her today. Not just to another man, but permanently. My heart slams into my ribs at the thought.
“Diana.”
Her lips part. An invitation I take advantage of as my mouth comes down on hers.
Demanding, starving for another taste of her.
I should be gentle, seductive. But I can’t stop drinking her in, especially when she groans my name, her fingers clamping down on my arms with the same possessive ferocity burning me from the inside out.
I push her back against the glass. Pull back long enough to stare down at her. Eyes glazed, a flush in her cheeks the color of a rose. Beautiful, glorious color that could have easily been snuffed out today. I run my thumb along one cheekbone as the possibility shudders through me.
Her eyes soften. “Ari…” One hand comes up, rests on my face. “I’m all right.”
I kiss her again. My fingers tighten in her hair as I growl against her lips. She presses her hips against the hardness of my cock with a boldness that rocks my control. I wrench my lips away, only to swiftly lower my head and blaze a trail down the side of her neck.
I pull her tightly against me. One hand rests on her back. I still. She freezes in my arms, then plants both hands on my chest and shoves, backing up until she’s flush with the window.
I know what she’s thinking, can see it in the tortured desire in her eyes. When we made love in New York, all she told me was that she liked to keep her top on. It wasn’t my place to ask why, so I’d accepted it and what she had offered me.
But now, knowing what lies beneath the fabric, things between us have changed yet again.
“Concierge should be up in an hour with our clothes.”
She blinks at my change of subject. “Oh.”
“I also ordered pajamas from a local shop in Vík. The hotel will bring them up with our clothes.”
Her eyes widen in alarm. “Pajamas?”
“By the time our clothes are ready, it’ll be dark. Strong winds are forecast tonight. Not to mention,” I add as I walk back to the table, “we’re both exhausted. Rest would be best.”
Her gaze darts around. “Both of us? In here?”
“Yes. The rest of the hotel is booked.” I nod to the bed, try not to think about what the two of us could do with so much space. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“I can—”
“No.”
A frown crosses her face. “I’ve slept worse places than on a couch.”
“And tonight you don’t have to,” I reply calmly, even though the hint of what she endured in foster care is enough to reignite my anger. “You suffered more than I did out there. Take the bed, Diana.”
I look away, focus on the food in front of me. I need fuel, energy to keep me going for what I’m sure is going to be a very long night.
Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep knowing Diana is just a few feet away.