Escaping with the Billionaire. Оливия Гейтс
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mussed hair and hastily hauled on jeans. The top button was open and his chest was bare. Gulp. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” He passed her glasses to her.
As she slid them on, his tattoo came into focus, a nautical compass on his arm. Looking closer she realized his hair was wet. She didn’t want to think about him in the shower, a tiled spa cubicle they’d shared more than once. “It’s been a tough night all around.”
“Want to talk about what woke you up?”
“Not really.” Not ever. To anyone. “I think my fear for Kolby ran wild in my sleep. Dreams are supposed to help work out problems, but sometimes, it seems they only make everything scarier.”
“Ah, damn, Shanny, I’m sorry for this whole mess.” He sat on the sofa and slid an arm around her shoulders.
She stiffened, then decided to hell with it all and leaned back against the hard wall of chest. With the nightmare so fresh in her mind, she couldn’t scavenge the will to pull away. His arms banded around her in an instant and her head tucked under his chin. Somehow it was easier to accept this comfort when she didn’t have to look in his eyes. She’d been alone with her bad dreams for so long. Was it wrong to take just a second’s comfort from his arms roped so thick with muscles nothing could break through to her? She would be strong again in a minute.
The grandfather clock ticked away minutes as she stared at his hands linked over her stomach—at the lighter band of skin where his watch usually rested. “Thanks for coming in to check on us, especially so late.”
“It can be disconcerting waking in an unfamiliar place alone.” His voice vibrated against her back, only her thin nightshirt between them and his bare chest.
Another whiff of his freshly showered scent teased her nose with memories of steam-slicked bodies.
“I’ve been here at least a dozen times, but never in this room. It’s a big house.” They’d met five months ago, started dating two months later…had starting sleeping together four weeks ago. “Strange to think we’ve shared the shower, but I still haven’t seen all of your home.”
“We tended to get distracted once our feet hit the steps,” he said drily.
True enough. They’d stayed downstairs on early dinner dates here, but once they’d ventured upstairs…they’d always headed straight for his suite.
“That first time together—” Shannon remembered was after an opera when her senses had been on overload and her hormones on hyperdrive from holding back “—I was scared to death.”
The admission tumbled out before she could think, but somehow it seemed easier to share such vulnerabilities in the dark.
His muscles flexed against her, the bristle of hair on his arms teasing goose bumps along her skin. “The last thing I ever want to do is frighten you.”
“It wasn’t your fault. That night was a big leap of faith for me.” The need to make him understand pushed past walls she’d built around herself. “Being with you then, it was my first time since Nolan.”
He went completely still, not even breathing for four ticks of the clock before she felt his neck move with a swallow against her temple. “No one?”
“No one.” Not only had Tony been her sole lover since Nolan, he’d been her second lover ever.
Her track record for picking men with secrets sucked.
His gusty sigh ruffled her hair. “I wish you would have told me.”
“What would that have changed?”
“I would have been more…careful.”
The frenzy of their first time stormed her mind with a barrage of images…their clothes fluttering to carpet the stairs on their way up. By the top of the steps they were naked, moonlight bathing his olive skin and casting shadows along the cut of muscles. Kissing against the wall soon had her legs wrapped around his waist and he was inside her. That one thrust had unfurled the tension into shimmering sensations and before the orgasm finished tingling all the way to the roots of her hair, he’d carried her to his room, her legs still around him. Again, she’d found release in bed with him, then a languid, leisurely completion while showering together.
Just remembering, an ache started low, throbbing between her legs. “You were great that night, and you know it.” She swatted his hand lightly. “Now wipe the arrogant grin off your face.”
“You can’t see me.” His voice sounded somber enough.
“Am I right, though?”
“Look at me and see.”
She turned around and dared to peer up at him for the first time since he’d settled on the couch behind her. Her intense memories of that evening found an echo in his serious eyes far more moving than any smile.
Right now, it was hard to remember they weren’t a couple anymore. “Telling you then would have made the event too serious.”
Too important.
His offer to “help” her financially still loomed unresolved between them, stinging her even more than last weekend after the enormous secret he’d kept from her. Why couldn’t they be two ordinary people who met at the park outside her apartment complex? What would it have been like to get to know Tony on neutral, normal ground? Would she have been able to see past the pain of her marriage?
She would never know.
“Shannon.” His voice came out hoarse and hungry. “Are you okay to go back to sleep now? Because I need to leave.”
His words splashed a chill over her heated thoughts. “Of course, you must have a lot to take care of with your family.”
“You misunderstand. I need to leave, because you’re killing me here with how much I’ve hurt you. And as if that wasn’t enough to bring me to my knees, every time you move your head, the feel of your hair against my chest just about sends me over the edge.” His eyes burned with a coal-hot determination. “I’ll be damned before I do anything to break your trust again.”
Before she could unscramble her thoughts, he slid his arms from her and ducked out the door as silently as he’d arrived. Colder than ever without the heat of Tony all around her, she hugged the blanket closer.
No worries about any more nightmares, because she was more than certain she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.
* * *
By morning, Tony hadn’t bothered turning down the covers on his bed. After leaving Shannon’s room, he’d spent most of the night conferring with his lawyer and a security firm. Working himself into the ground to distract himself from how much he hurt from wanting her.
With a little luck and maneuvering, he could extend his week with her into two weeks. But bottom line, he would ensure her safety.
At five, he’d caught a catnap on the library sofa, jolting awake when Vernon called him from the front gate. He’d buzzed the retired sea captain through and rounded up breakfast.
His old friend deserved some answers.
Choosing a less formal dining area outside, he sat at the oval table on the veranda shaded by a lemon tree, Vernon beside him with a plate full of churros. Tony thumbed the edge of the hand-painted stoneware plate—a set he’d picked up from a local craftsman to support the dying art of the region.
Today of all days, he didn’t want to think overlong on why he still ate his same childhood breakfast—deep-fried strips of potato dough. His mother had always poured a thick rich espresso for herself and mugs of hot chocolate for her three sons, an informal ritual in their centuries-old castle that he now knew was anything but ordinary.
Vernon eyed him over the rim of his coffee cup. “So it’s all true, what they’re saying in the papers