Chapter 5 #3
“This is not a perfect situation,” he said slowly, thinking once more of the dark past that dogged them at every step; of the reason he’d met her and seduced her; of the photo he’d taken and the manner in which he’d sent it.
There was no hope of their becoming anything beyond what they were.
How would she ever forgive him? How would she ever accept the burning need he’d held for revenge?
His need to punish the man who had slowly, in the most painful way, killed his father had eaten him alive.
“Isn’t it?” She murmured, scanning his face. From her perspective, of course, it was the stuff of dreams. He had swept her off her feet. She just wanted to stay there! “You’re pushing me away again.”
A frown tugged at his lips. “I’m attempting to be truthful with you.” Even that was a lie! He looked around her bedroom, his displeasure obvious. “Your room is very … neat … but it is not sufficient for you.”
“I happen to like it,” she retorted with mock offense.
His gaze flared back to hers. “Come with me.”
Her heart flipped in her chest. “For how long?” Her gaze was loaded with determination.
He pushed up to standing. As with the first time they’d made love, he was still basically dressed.
His shirt was undone and hung loose around his chest. Her eyes fell to his shoulder where she could see the hint of a bite mark.
Her cheeks flamed. She had done that. She stood gracefully, and pushed his shirt away, so that her eyes could roam his back freely.
“I’ve scratched you.” She’d done worse than that. She’d come close to drawing blood, by the looks of it. “I’m so sorry.”
He spun around and caught her in his arms. “Di niente,” he demurred, his smile sexy and seductive and perfectly gorgeous. “They are … battle scars.”
“Battle scars?” She shivered. “That’s so primitive.”
“Si. As it should be.” He stroked her cheek gently. “Come with me.”
“For how long?” She repeated, her eyes hoping to see the promise in his eyes that he wouldn’t make with his mouth.
“I can’t give you that.” He held her close, his hips seeking hers. “I don’t deal in promises when I cannot fulfil them.”
“You were perfectly happy to buy me for two days …”
“Two days I can easily fulfil,” he responded, his eyes darkly contemplative.
“I’m not going to upend my life, come and stay with you, and get even more addicted to you, and this, if you could decide one morning that it no longer suits you and ask me to leave.” She shuddered. “I’m just being honest with you, Benedetto. It would break my heart.”
Her statement caused him a flash of wariness. “Our hearts are not involved, cara.”
“Yours might not be,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m not like you.”
Responsibility, guilt and regret jostled through him for priority. His soul was heavy with all. “You need to be.”
A laugh escaped her, but it was lacking in humour. “Oh, okay,” she shrugged sarcastically. “Just wait while I flick a switch and … yep. I’m done.” She did her best to assume his accent. “I am now ready for the meaningless sex to be continuing.”
He laughed despite himself. “I do not sound like that.”
She arched a brow. “Yes, you do. Sort of.” The cold Autumnal sun crested over the neighbouring building and blinded her with its milky brightness. She squinted with relief; her eyes were stinging anyway. “You should go.”
His nostrils flared as he expelled an angry breath. “I want you to be with me.”
“I know.” She swallowed past the bitterness of pain. “But sooner or later you’ll want me to go. And I don’t want to spend the next however long waiting for that.”
“You cannot live your life thinking of death,” he responded tautly. “It is an old adage my grandfather taught me. You cannot ever enjoy life if you’re always scouting for the end on the horizon. Why can you not simply enjoy this for now?”
Her smile was wistful. “I like that. You cannot live your life thinking of death. But that wouldn’t work for me.
” Her delicate throat knotted as she swallowed to keep her emotions at bay.
How many times had she been forced to contemplate death?
As if to recall the worst of her pains, she lifted a finger to her temples and felt the small scar there.
She’d passed out after the fifth blow. She remembered, because she’d counted, as each press of the empty wine bottle had crushed against her.
“I know this place doesn’t look like much, but to me, it’s perfect. I’m free here.”
It was a curious turn of phrase. “When have you not been free?” He pushed thoughtfully.
“That doesn’t matter. The point is, here I am free and I am happy and I think … I can see a time when you could make me more miserable than I’ve ever been.”
“So you are saying no to what we share simply because it will end at some point?”
“You’re the one who said it was time to get back to reality. Well, this is it for me.”
“I’ve changed my mind. You can’t stay here. You must come with me.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that easy. Being back here reminds me of who I am. These last couple of days have been a fantasy. A wonderful, crazy, erotic fantasy. But not real life. I … I’ve learned that I have to be … careful. About who I trust.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“I’d trust you with my life,” she promised truthfully. “But not my heart.” And after two short days, she already understood how much of it he possessed.