He stepped back and raked a hand through his hair. ‘What the hell do you think? You left me without an explanation after you texted that you’d see me in an hour. An hour, Ana. It’s been three weeks!’
‘I know how long it’s been,’ she muttered.
‘Tell me why? What did I do?’
Ana stared at him, standing so tall, proud and heartbreakingly gorgeous. Weeks of restless nights when her dreams had been so vivid that on waking to find she’d only been dreaming she’d burst into tears more than once didn’t do justice to the reality of him. And, even though his face lacked some of the vitality she loved, he was still the most magnificent man in the world.
A magnificent man who would never return her love.
She turned away.
‘You didn’t do anything, Bastien. It was me.’
Bastien stopped himself from reaching for her again, compelling her to look at him. ‘Whatever it is, tell me. I can take it.’ A blatant lie. He wouldn’t be able to take it if she rejected him.
A delicate frown creased her forehead. He wanted to smooth it away, to touch her once more. Her skin had darkened in the Colombian sun, making her more alluring if that was possible. Her beauty enthralled him, made him want to kneel at her feet in worship. But he needed to keep his wits about him. Needed to stay sane. Because he was fighting for his life. Fighting for the woman he loved above anything else in his life.
Her tongue snuck out to wet her lips. ‘What we had was great but it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.’
His vision frayed and he gripped the back of the chair. ‘What are you talking about?’
Her finger traced a delicate path on the rickety table. ‘I want more.’
‘I will give you more. Just tell me how.’
She stared at him for a few heartbeats, then her lids descended, her lush lashes shielding her eyes from him. Unable to stand not touching her, Bastien moved and tucked her hair behind one ear. Her breath caught.
‘Bastien, I can’t tell you how to feel. If you don’t already feel it...you’re better off without me—’
‘No, I’m nothing without you! What we had... Ana, it was the closest thing to heaven that I’ve ever known.’ Her eyes widened. Bastien fell deeper, even as his desperation grew. ‘I don’t know why you left but you told me you loved me once. I hope that one day you’ll love me again—the way I love you.’
Ana’s heart stopped, somersaulted, and then banged with crazy abandon against her chest. She told herself it was the heat in the cabin that made her light-headed, but hope told her it was something else.
‘You love me?’
Bastien nodded. ‘Oui. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you love me again—’
‘I never stopped.’
‘You never—’
‘No, and you never told me how you felt.’
He grimaced. ‘I did. You’re the love of my life, Ana, amour de mon coeur.’ He repeated the words he’d first said three weeks ago.
Her eyes widened as recognition dawned.
‘I felt safer saying it in French because I was a fool and thought that way I wasn’t risking everything.’ He gathered her closer. ‘But I aim to say it in every language there is—starting with English. I love you, ma belle Ana.’
Her heart soared. When he gathered her close she didn’t resist. His kiss was hungry, demanding, possessive. And she loved it. He backed her onto the tiny cot she slept on and came down over her.
‘Here?’
‘Have mercy on a poor man, Ana. I’ve been without you for three long weeks. I can’t take another single moment without you.’
Her sigh of pleasure was all the answer he needed to continue.
Later, in the equally tiny shower cubicle, he pulled her wet hair to one side and washed her back. Although there was more kissing than washing. Not that Ana was complaining.