Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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help but remember the last time they’d been alone in a hotel room overnight.
This one might be sleek and modern, furnished with chrome-and-glass tables, flokati rugs and leather couches, nothing at all like the elegant Hotel Daniele, but her mind didn’t know the difference. It kept replaying images of their last night together—cotton sheets so fine they felt like silk, twining bodies, sleek skin and that one perfect moment when she’d discovered how very addictive good sex could be.
“There is a couch,” she said, resisting the urge to fan herself.
His expression did not change. “I am aware of it.”
She hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “I’ll sleep on it. I’m smaller than you.”
He left the railing and stalked toward her. She dropped her arms to her sides, took a step backward. He was so very big, so near, as he stopped only inches away from her. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him, and she wished that she’d put the stilettos back on. At least she wouldn’t feel as if he loomed over her if she had.
He reached out and caught a lock of her hair in his hand, twined it gently around his fist. “Is this really what you want?”
She nodded once, quickly.
He lifted her hair to his fine, aristocratic nose. “Do you not think, cara, that perhaps the modesty is a bit misplaced?”
The heat threatened to incinerate her from the inside out. “I—I agreed to marry you. So you would not harm my family,” she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
He laughed softly, wrapped her hair once more around his fist until she had to move closer. “Ah, I see. You have given yourself to me as a sacrificial lamb, is that it?”
“No—”
“You think that because you’ve agreed to the marriage, sex is off the table?” His voice was slightly harder this time.
She swallowed. “I didn’t say that. But they are two different things, are they not? We hardly know one another.”
“And we knew each other not at all in Venice. I seem to remember this made the entire evening more exciting, not less. Shall I procure a couple of masks to make it easier for you?”
She dropped her chin, hiding her eyes from his. Not because she was embarrassed or ashamed, but because if she did not he would see the flare of excitement that even now dripped into her bloodstream, drugging her with need.
“That was different. And there were consequences neither of us expected.”
His playful tone disappeared. “I fail to see how these consequences affect the topic at hand. Or how sex on one night is different than sex on another. Unless, of course, it’s the man you object to and not the sex.”
That wasn’t it at all, and yet she couldn’t tell him that. She’d already lost so much of herself to him—if they spent the night together, how much more would she lose?
“I—I’m not ready,” she said, still keeping her eyes downcast. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
She felt him go completely still. “How … amusing,” he murmured, before he dropped her hair and stepped around her, into the room and away from the currents swirling between them.
Tina’s throat was thick with words that would not come, with feelings and emotions she did not fully understand. She’d blundered, and yet she’d only been trying to preserve her sense of self for a little while longer.
He prowled across the carpet, his shoulders tight as he opened the liquor cabinet and poured a finger of Scotch into a glass before turning back to her, the drink cradled in his hand.
“No matter what you might think, cara, I am in full control of my libido. You waste your time imagining that I intend to take you to my bed and have my wicked way with you. We have one bed because one bed is all that was available. You may sleep in it unmolested, I assure you.”
He downed the Scotch and grabbed his briefcase. “I have work to do, and no inclination to coerce you into doing something which is obviously distasteful to you.”
Tina awoke the next morning in the bed, though she’d started the evening on the couch. She sat up groggily and swung her head toward the direction of the bathroom. The sound of the running shower came through the closed door. A few minutes later it stopped, and then Nico strode into the room wearing nothing but a towel slung low over his hips.
Tina bit off a gasp as she grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to her chin. Nico stopped in his tracks, his expression wry.
“You’re wearing the same thing you wore when you went to sleep on the couch, Tina.”
She glanced beneath the sheet. So she was, though her attire hadn’t quite been the foremost thing on her mind. She let the fabric fall again as hot embarrassment crept through her. He had to be laughing at her on the inside for acting like a startled virgin—though that was not why she’d gasped.
No, she’d gasped because seeing him nearly naked like that was an assault on her senses.
And she wanted more.
“I was fine on the couch,” she said, pushing those thoughts away. “You didn’t have to bring me in here.”
“You didn’t look fine. You looked cramped. And cold.” He reached into the closet and took out a pair of khaki trousers. Tina jerked her gaze away automatically when he dropped the towel—and then swung it back with a sense of glee. He stood with his back to her so that she could look to her heart’s content without him being the wiser. And what a view it was: muscled shoulders, narrow waist, tight buttocks and long, strong legs.
Something flared to life in her belly, something hot and dark and hungry. She gripped the sheet in her fists. Oh, my …
She didn’t remember him carrying her into the bedroom last night—and yet she did remember one detail. She remembered shivering and curling up tight under the blanket, and then something warm and solid had cradled her until she forgot she’d been cold.
But had it only been him carrying her, or had he lain down in the bed and held her tight? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to ask.
He slid into a pair of briefs before pulling on the khakis and flipping through the closet for a shirt. When he turned back to her, the dark shirt hung open to the waist, affording her a view of sculpted chest and abs that made her mouth water. Tina bit her lip to stifle a whimper.
Nico’s gaze was sharp as he looked over and caught her staring at him. “Never fear, cara, you slept unmolested. I prefer that my bed partners participate in the activities. It is much more fun that way.”
Tina let her gaze drop. “I did not doubt it,” she said, because she knew that if he had tried to make love to her, she wouldn’t have slept through it. “Thank you for making sure I was warm again.”
He shrugged as he began to button the shirt. “You are the mother of my child, Tina. Regardless of how this began between us, I will take care of you. Nothing is more important than this baby.”
Her stomach hollowed. Of course the baby was the most important thing—and yet it hurt to hear him say it. To him, she was a possession, a vessel carrying a precious cargo. The thought made her ache inside. What would it be like to marry a man who loved her? To have him be excited about the baby instead of resigned?
“I have business to take care of,” he told her when he finished dressing. “The wedding will be this evening, so try to amuse yourself for a few hours.”
Tina sat in the middle of the big bed once he was gone, feeling dejected. Amuse herself. So typical. He went off to run his company and expected her to entertain herself until he returned.
He was exactly like her brother in that respect—except that Faith had kept working for Renzo until she’d hired her own replacement. There