A Shameful Consequence(14)
She welcomed him in deeper. The last rapid thrusts from Nico, a signal her body heeded, and with him she went to a place that would live forever in her heart. The sound of his release met her scream and she wanted to stay there, with Nico, in the place they had created. But the pulse of her body slowed and slowly she remembered to breathe again, and a little later, when surely she should go back to her room, surely it would be dangerous to fall asleep, she let her body rest when he rolled into her. She would sleep a while in his arms and be with Nico on her wedding night.
He could hear the clock chime five times and for once fought the instinct to instantly awaken. He wanted to pull her warm body towards him, to make slow predawn love, not face the morning and the thoughts that last night had plagued him.
Nico reached for her body and then fought to resist: there was something too intimate about making love in the morning. In the long run he had found it better to leave things at last night, and this morning he chose to uphold his finding, because if had her again, he might then persuade her, might encourage her to stand up to her family, at what cost to her, though?
He looked over to where she slept deeply beside him.
How could he tear her from everything she knew, even if she didn’t like it, with promises he knew he could not keep?
So instead when he moved it was to wake her.
‘You should go back.’
It was a cruel awakening.
She wanted to stay in her dream, her wedding night, with this gorgeous man beside her. She did not want to go back, but she knew that she had to so she climbed out of the bed, pulled on her clothes and the dress he had so lovingly taken off. She wanted him to halt her.
Wanted him to tell her that she didn’t need to go back, but she knew that it wasn’t his place to, that she could only make that decision by herself.
‘Thank you.’ It was a strange way to end such a passionate night, but when Connie thought how it could have been, how wretched she had felt on the stairs last night, how without him she might never have known such bliss, her words were indeed heartfelt.
‘Constantine …’ As she walked out of the door he called out and she froze for a moment, the silence in the air shifting, because if she turned around she would be back in his bed and somehow they both knew it.
It was not for him to save her.
‘It’s Connie.’ She opened the door and forced herself to walk out, to walk the agonising steps to her suite. In her bedroom she showered and put on the beautiful lace nightdress she had chosen for her wedding night, and climbed into the cold empty bed.
This would be her life if she stayed with the lie for even a day, Connie knew it. She was more grateful than Nico could ever know for their night. It had been so much more than sex—it had shown her how life should be.
Could be, Connie thought with a shiver of fear, but that would mean hurting so many people.
CHAPTER FOUR
HE WOKE before he jumped.
Had trained himself to open his eyes as soon as the lurch in his chest appeared, rather than have the beauty in his bed feel the jerk of his body beside her.
It was that or sleep every night alone, and Nico had no intention of doing that.
He hadn’t had the dream in ages, but when Constantine had left and he had drifted back to sleep he had almost anticipated it—for yesterday something had stirred within him. The walk last night through the streets of Xanos had felt like a return to his familiar dream.
Where he lay paralysed, yet watching himself walk, talk, breathe, live.
A dream where his arms and legs were motionless, yet there he was walking around.
He hated the dream, hated lying there motionless, unable to move, unable to communicate with the version of himself he was watching.
Nico rolled over and her scent was there in bed beside him—and there was regret for not making love to her this morning, for not breaking his steadfast rule. For once he was tempted to close his eyes, to give into his body and slip back to his thoughts, but he had trained himself too well and instead got out of bed and showered and dressed. He didn’t shave and neither did he dress carefully, just pulled on the trousers he had worn last night and topped them with a black fitted shirt.
He toyed, only momentarily, with joining his family for breakfast, but not exactly relishing the prospect he decided otherwise. Given London was two hours behind them, he was for once kind to the long-suffering Charlotte, who arranged all his travel and other things, and he rang down himself to ask the concierge to arrange transport to take him back to the mainland. He didn’t want to go to Lathira and he certainly wasn’t going back on that ferry.