‘Not possible,’ he managed. ‘It’s out there and it can’t be taken back.’
She stared at him as though he had physically wounded her.
‘Why are you doing this?’
Her evident confusion clawed at his heart. It wasn’t as if he understood completely himself. And yet, each time he said it, it made more sense.
Everything made more sense.
‘I swore I would never fall in love with any woman. Ever. But here I am. And I know you feel the same way about me.’
‘I don’t,’ she choked, scrambling to get off him.
Away from him.
He let her, even as he emitted a laugh at the irony of it.
He, who had spent over a decade steering clear of relationships with women who would inevitably declare themselves in love with him, was now in love.
It seemed only fitting that he should be the one saying it whilst the woman he loved didn’t want to accept it. As if it was a test of his own making. He’d never failed a damned test in his entire career, he wasn’t about to start now.
‘Our deal was sex. Pure and simple,’ she cried, spinning around searching for her clothes. ‘You’re the king of one-night stands.’
‘I was. Until you came along.’
He watched her locate her T-shirt and pull it on, then flail around for her jeans. He didn’t try to stop her, he didn’t want her to feel trapped or cornered, but he didn’t share her fluster. He just felt calm. At peace.
It was odd, the way the minute he’d admitted that he loved her, everything had seemed to start slotting into place, piece by piece. He felt somehow...whole.
‘You said it yourself—I used sex as a distraction.’ He shrugged. ‘That I just needed to meet the right person. Turns out you were right.’
‘No. No, I wasn’t.’ She shoved her feet into her jeans, first one and then the other, before yanking them up those slender legs that had spent so much of the night wrapped around him. ‘You told me that I didn’t know the first thing about you. That I was reading too much into it because I wanted you to be a better man than you really are.’
‘Turns out I was wrong.’
‘No!’ Her voice sounded mangled, wretched, and his heart actually ached for her.
‘You can deny it as many times as you like, Anouk. It won’t change it, believe me. I’ve been pretending to myself that there was nothing more than sex between us—just like you are now—but I can’t pretend any longer.’
‘Then try,’ she half choked, half bit out.
She looked wounded, and fragile, and even more beautiful than ever. As if finally acknowledging the truth had infused his whole world with a more vivid colour.
How had he ever thought that love was destructive? How had he failed to realise just how glorious it could be?
‘More to the point,’ he told her quietly, ‘I don’t want to pretend that it’s just sex any more.’
‘This is about the chase. You only think you love me because I’m the first woman who made you work for it. Because you had to give a little of yourself, telling me about your childhood and your hardships, in order to get closer to me.’
‘You’re wrong, Anouk.’ At one time her words would have got under his skin, clawing at him, leaving scars. All he felt now was calm acceptance. It was enough to steal his breath away.
‘You’ve confused lust for love.’
‘I’ve never confused lust for anything.’ He smiled. ‘I always welcomed it, indulged in it. I don’t love you because you are the first woman who made me work for you. I love you because you’re the only woman who has ever made me want to work for it.’
‘I don’t want this.’ She shook her head, sounding as if she was trying to swallow a sob. ‘You can’t do this to me.’
He stood with deliberate care, so as not to startle her. And despite all her protestations she froze, her eyes fixed on his body, the naked longing in them belying every word she was trying to tell him.