A Moment on the Lips(15)
He shifted so that he could push deeper inside her.
‘Oh, God, Dante, yes,’ she murmured. ‘More. More.’ She pushed against him, increasing the pace and the pressure.
He felt her body start to ripple round him, and it tipped him into his own release. When he came, it was like seeing stars. Everything seemed to sparkle in his head. When he opened his eyes, he could see his feelings reflected in her eyes, that same sense of wonder. The whole world felt as if it had shifted.
He rolled off her and lay there beside her, utterly stunned. He’d thought they’d be good together, but not this good. Especially the first time.
Unless you counted last night as the first time.
But through the whole thing he’d felt completely in tune with her—and that worried him. He walked to the beat of his own drum. Nobody else’s.
And then her hand found his; her fingers laced through his.
No, no, no. This was meant to be just sex. Not a relationship.
‘I’d better deal with the condom,’ he muttered, pulling his hand away from hers before he did something stupid. Like holding her hand right back.
When he came back from the bathroom, Carenza hadn’t moved, other than to pull the sheet over her up to her waist. She really was gorgeous; he could feel his body stirring again at the sight of her.
And he didn’t have a clue what to say. What she expected from him.
But then she smiled, shifted onto her side and patted the bed next to her.
Oh, hell. Now he knew exactly what she wanted. A cuddle. And to talk.
Well, he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to spill his guts to her. That wasn’t who he was.
‘Dante.’ Her voice was very soft. ‘You don’t think I’ve finished with you yet, do you?’ And in that split second she changed from princess to vamp.
Irresistible.
He climbed back onto the bed. ‘OK, Princess, I’m in your hands.’
A flicker of hurt passed over her face. ‘My friends call me Caz.’
‘We’re not exactly friends,’ he pointed out.
‘Let me rephrase that. People who are close to me.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘And I don’t think you can get much closer than you’ve just been.’
‘No.’ But physical closeness was where he drew the line. He didn’t want emotional closeness. Didn’t need it. He was fine just how he was, working hard and growing his business. Making his world secure. Emotional closeness was the quickest way to let the cracks grow and break that security. And no way was he ever going to let that happen.
‘Am I that scary?’ she asked.
‘How do you mean, scary?’
‘For a moment, there, you looked utterly terrified.’
Oh, hell. He always managed to mask his feelings. The fact that she could see right through him was worrying. In the extreme. ‘It must’ve been your imagination,’ he said coolly. ‘I’m scared of nothing.’ Not any more. His days of being scared were long behind him, left in the miseries of his childhood. ‘I was thinking, as you’re here I might as well feed you.’
‘You’re going to cook for me?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘When I have excellent chefs working for me downstairs? What’s the point?’
‘Oh.’ She looked slightly crestfallen; then she glanced over at the crumpled trail of clothes across his bedroom.
He took pity on her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to drag you down there.’
‘Actually, I’d like to see your restaurant.’
‘Not sitting with me, you won’t—I don’t want my staff talking about me.’ The words were out before he could stop them.
To his relief, she didn’t pick up on it. Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to explain to her why he hated people talking about him.
‘So what are you intending?’ she asked.
‘Room service. Kind of.’
She frowned. ‘Surely that’ll make them talk more?’
‘I’m having a business discussion with a colleague and it ran a bit late, so we decided to take a break for dinner. It happens.’
‘So what’s the difference between them knowing I’m up here and seeing me downstairs with you?’
All the difference in the world. ‘There just is, OK?’
‘Dante, you’re being completely illogical.’
He ignored her. ‘Is there anything you’re allergic to or hate eating, or shall we just have the special?’