“It’s not, really. I’ve been busy, and I haven’t been interested enough in anyone to take the next step.”
He hooked a finger in her jeans pocket, tugging her closer. “You seem interested in me.”
“We’re married,” she said, her breath catching as desire shot through her limbs. “And it’s part of your damn contract.”
“So you would make love with me because of the contract?”
“I didn’t think I had a choice.”
A finger twirled in her hair. “You always have a choice, Francesca. But I think you will choose me.”
“You are far too confident in yourself.” But her blood was humming and her body was beginning to ache with need.
“No, but I am confident in this feeling between us. There is something …”
His head dipped, his lips ghosting over hers.
“Something?” she asked a touch breathlessly.
His arms went around her, pulling her in close as she automatically put her own around his neck. “There is something about you, something I very much want to explore …”
“But last night—”
“Last night was wrong. Tonight—tonight is right.”
She didn’t ask why it was right. Last night had been different. And, she realized, it wasn’t worth traveling old territory when what mattered was here and now. She ached to soothe him, to take away his pain and his nightmares, but she didn’t know how to do it.
All she knew was that she was ready for this. Amazingly, unbelievably—she wanted him. Without fear or regret. There would be consequences, she knew that, but she was so ready to push past her fear and insecurity and experience this with him. With the man she’d once loved more than any other.
With the man she could love again.
Francesca shuddered as their lips met. What was she getting herself into? But, oh God, how could she resist?
His mouth was magical, his kiss insistent and confident. Her limbs softened, her body turning liquid. She was jelly in his arms.
He pulled back. “Unless you wish to make love al fresco, we need to return to the house.”
“I don’t care, Marcos,” she murmured, pressing her lips to the warm skin of his neck. He smelled so good, so vibrant and alive.
“I might not either, except that we have no blankets—and the night is chilly.”
She acknowledged that could be a problem. That and she didn’t know what kind of bugs crawled around in vineyards at night. “Then I’ll race you back,” she said before sprinting into the night.
CHAPTER NINE
MARCOS LET HER win the run to the house. She hesitated when she reached the threshold, but he grabbed her hand and led her toward her room. The one thing he never did was spend the entire night with his lovers. Usually, he took them to hotels or met them at their place, but he rarely took them home to his. And when he did, he bundled them off before daybreak.
He did not sleep with anyone. Ever.
Francesca was the first woman to catch him in the midst of his nightmares,
but still he would not share his sleep with her. He would make love to her—was dying to do so, really—but he would return to his own room when they’d exhausted each other too much for more love making.
When they reached her room, she seemed to grow suddenly shy. She moved away quickly, before he could take her in his arms again, and busied herself with tidying up a stack of magazines on the bedside table.
“You are having second thoughts?” he asked, because he was never willing to dance around the truth.
“N-no, not at all,” she said with a toss of her glorious hair. She looked defiant. Like a scared little kitten trying to be brave.