He was watching closely as I slipped my feet into strappy high heeled sandals.
"No bra?"
I turned to stare at him, arching my back.
"Do I need one?"
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He shook his head slowly. He was going to kiss me again, I knew.
I shook my finger at him.
"I cannot be late."
He narrowed his eyes at me and pulled his shirt on. I sighed. It was a shame to put those delightful muscles of his under wraps.
Really, he was divine looking. Like a statue. In Rome, we had so many. He would put them all to shame.
His voice was husky as he watched me slip a gold bracelet over my wrist.
"What about later tonight?"
I shrugged.
"Maybe. Leave your phone number on the table."
He scribbled his number down and smiled.
"Call or text anytime. Really."
I nodded. If I wanted him at 4 am I doubted I would have to wait. He hadn't had to tell me that. It was more than obvious that he would come running if I asked.
"I trust you can slip out unnoticed?"
He nodded.
"Wait until I'm gone please."
He grinned, leaning against the dresser.
"Yes, ma'am."
I smiled at him as I left, shutting the door behind me. I was pleased with him, even if he did seem to want to chat. Talk was the last thing I wanted to do. I didn't want to think or answer questions. I'd come here to get away from all that.
The pain and the drama of the past few months were far away, on the other side of the ocean. The more distraction I had from the pain in my heart, the better. Sex was perfect. Having some cowboy get romantic notions about what this was, was not.
I'd snuck away, using my prized mare Athena as a public excuse to leave Rome. But no one who knew the full story was fooled. Even so, I couldn't stay away forever. Eventually my family would demand my return. I shook my head. I was a grown woman, and this was my own affair.
And now that I'd met my handsome companion, I would be pleasantly distracted from my troubles.
My trip here might be enjoyable despite the circumstances that had led me to flee the inner circle of Aristocrats I had frequented. So far, the United States was exceeding my expectations. It felt right, meeting the handsome cowboy who dazzled me with his bed skills.
After all, I was supposed to be on my honeymoon.
Chapter Seven
Daniel
I was grinning as I pulled on a fresh shirt. Mine had gotten rumpled on the floor during the long, hot afternoon. I splashed cold water on my face and combed my hair.
It had been the best damn afternoon of my life.
How often did a Goddess take you to bed and have her way with you? Her glorious, unpredictable, savagely sensual way with you?
Before today I would have said never.
Now I knew better.
I knew her.
Francesca.
I knew she was going to be surprised at dinner. Angry, even. I just hoped it was a good surprise. I couldn't lie, I looked forward to having the upper hand with her.
I'd deliberately missed drinks in the parlor so she wouldn't have a chance to run. My brother was a stickler for business meals so I knew it would be a long drawn out affair with at least six courses. I hummed to myself as I raced down the stairs.
Six courses of watching her squirm in her seat. Squirm that delicious bottom of hers. Hell, I knew I’d be imagining eating her instead of the meal.
I couldn't wait.
I walked into the dining room and paused for dramatic effect.
"Ah, here he is. Daniel you sit across from Miss Duarte."
I smirked at her.
"With pleasure."
Her sumptuous lips were parted in surprise. Her cheeks flushed bright pink. I saw a look in her eyes that I hadn't expected. It was just for a moment, but I had caught her off guard. It was worse than that though.
For less than a split second, she looked vulnerable. Almost… hurt.
Damn it. That was the last thing I wanted. No mortal man should be able to hurt a Goddess.
Then like a flash the shutters came down and her shield was back in place. She nodded to me regally. The pink was still in her cheeks though. And when I sat down and looked across the table at her, the heat was back in her eyes.
Not sexual heat.
She was angry.
Very, very angry.
Damn if she didn't look even sexier than usual when she was mad.
Jackson made small talk as Francesca's eyes threw daggers at me from across the table. I shifted in my seat, already hard just from looking at her.
Jesus Christ, the woman was delicious!
And formidable. She resisted all my attempts to draw her into teasing familiarity. She spoke softly to my brother of horses, ignoring me to almost the point of rudeness.