Exotic Nights

She put her hands on his shoulders, pushing until his grip loosened. Then she pulled away and wrapped her arms around her middle.

“You are angry with me,” he said.

“A bit.” And hurt. And confused. And unsure she wanted to relive even a moment of pleasure with him if it was only going to lead to more heartbreak.

Because he did want her, she knew that. But it was a physical need, not an emotional one. Had he really called her here just to get in her panties again? After this stunt, she truly had no idea what he was capable of.

“You have every right to be,” he said. “I understand this.”

“Then why are you here? Do you feel guilty? Want to ease your troubled conscience?” She was surprised to find that anger was indeed the dominant emotion she felt at the moment. Because she really didn’t know what he wanted. He’d dragged her here with the Corazón del Diablo and a note, but he’d not fallen to his knees and proclaimed his undying love, or said he needed her in his life, or anything else.

Instead, he’d chained himself to the bed and scared her half to death in the process.

“The nightmares are back,” he said softly. He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “They are even worse now, in some ways.”

“And you thought that chaining yourself to this bed and hoping I would come along might help?”

“Perhaps not the best plan, but I’m working on it.”

She shook her head. “How is it possible the dreams are worse?”

“Because you are in them, and it is you I cannot save.”

“I’m fine, I assure you.”

“I can see that. But without you, I do not sleep well.”

“And what is the solution to that? That I return to Argentina and sleep with you every night?

“Sí.”

Francesca blinked. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “As long as it takes.”

“No.” Damn him! How dare he come along and entice her with such a thing, and all because he slept better when she was there? “Ask some other woman.”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “Clearly, I am doing this wrong.”

“Clearly.”

He caught her by the shoulders, gripping her too hard for her to get away easily but not so hard it hurt. “I need you, Francesca. I was a fool to let you go.”

Her eyes filled with tears. It was what she wanted to hear—but after so much pain and heartbreak, how could she believe it? She’d believed in him before, and she’d been wrong.

“What changed your mind? Nightmares? Because I’m not sure that’s enough, Marcos.”

He let her go, walked over to the windows and gazed out at the night lights of the city. His shoulders seemed to sag a little.

“I’m afraid, Francesca. Afraid because for the first time in my life, I actually care about someone else’s happiness and well being more than my own.” He turned to face her again. “I know I’ve not done this well, and I know you have reason not to trust me, but I’m trying to tell you that I love you. As deeply and as much as I am able.”

A tear slid down her cheek and she dashed it away. “Why should that be so hard to say?” she asked, her throat aching.

“Because I know I’m not a good bargain. Part of me is ruined and broken. It’s unfair to ask you to fix that, but you are the only one who can. Without you, I’m lost. And I know this is selfish of me, but I want you to come back.”

Her legs refused to hold her upright any longer. She sank onto the end of the bed and stared at him. “I love you, Marcos, but I’m scared too. Because I can never have children, and you are a man who deserves to have his own children. How do I know you won’t resent me for it later? That you won’t regret this once you feel like the damage of the past is repaired? Because it’s not me who will repair it, but you. I really have nothing to do with it.”

“You have everything to do with it. If you hadn’t come into my life again, I wo