It was empty.
Antonio was gone.
A crushing disappointment filled her, even as she told herself it was exactly what she’d known would happen. Just as soon as he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d left.
If anything, she should be surprised he’d stayed so long. He’d made love to her three times last night. Her cheeks burned, remembering. Four times, if you counted the interlude in the shower. Her whole body ached with the sweet exhaustion of pleasure. She’d never imagined anyone could make her feel that good, over and over and over. No wonder all those women went so crazy over him. And no wonder he would not commit to any of them for long. He was probably already on the other side of Tokyo, focusing back on the negotiations for the codeshare with Iyokan Airways. His company was his only true love, his family and religion, and now that he’d possessed Hana so thoroughly, Antonio had moved on with—
“Buenos días, querida.”
Her lips parted in a gasp as she saw him entering the bedroom with a tray. He was wearing only a white terry cloth robe, which set off his tanned skin and gorgeous body to perfection. As he came closer to the bed, she saw he’d showered and freshly shaved.
“G-good morning,” she stammered, unsure how to react. Even though he’d promised her he’d stay the entire night, she’d never imagined he’d actually do it. He never stayed the night with any of his mistresses. He either came home, or kicked them out, with the excuse of an early morning meeting that was, to be fair, always true.
“I thought you’d be hungry.” Antonio set down the silver tray beside her on the bed. She saw a full breakfast of eggs and fruit and toast and other delicious things, beside a pretty red rose in a bud vase. Then she took a deep breath, and frowned.
“Um...thank you?”
“You’re welcome.” He gave her a sensual smile. “Coffee?”
Her stomach, which had been strangely finicky for the last few weeks for a cause she now knew was morning sickness, immediately rebelled, and she shook her head. “Actually,” she said, careful not to sniff again, “Could you take that coffee into the other room? It...”
He looked at her. “The smell makes you sick?” He immediately grabbed the carafe and left the suite. He returned empty-handed a moment later. “Orange juice?”
“Thank you.”
He poured it, then handed her the glass. Now that the coffee smell was gone, she took a deep breath, inhaling his delectable scent of clean male and woodland spice and something indefinably him. Now that smelled good to her. Too good, even.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at her tenderly. “How did you sleep?”
“Not long enough,” she said, blushing a little.
Antonio gave her a wicked grin. “Perhaps we’ll need to take a nap later, eh?”
Based on the way he was looking at her, she doubted it would involve much actual sleep.
How could she already want him again? How was it possible? Was she really such a wanton?
Yes, she realized, looking up with a shiver into his dark Spanish eyes. She was utterly a wanton where Antonio Delacruz was concerned.
Oh, this wasn’t good at all. She’d believed with all her heart that one more night would make him lose interest, and stop him from trying to tempt her with dreams that couldn’t possibly come true—dreams of marrying him, of raising their child together. She couldn’t let herself hope, when after two years of watching him, she knew it was a hopeless fantasy. Men like Antonio never changed!
But as she felt his hot gaze on her, she felt the answering tremble of desire across her body. She quickly set down her orange
juice. “Aren’t you heading back into the office this morning? To finish the Iyokan deal?”
He shook his head. “I thought I might show you around Tokyo.”
Wide-eyed, Hana looked at him, then her lips lifted at the edges. “I’ve been here a few times. I speak Japanese fairly well. And you’re going to show me around?”
He looked disgruntled. He was accustomed to being the one with all the answers, the one in control.
But after last night... Hana thought of the first time they’d made love, when he’d exploded almost the very moment he’d pushed inside her, when she was still lost in the swirl of her own pleasure. He was a famous lover. That couldn’t have been his plan.
Something had made him lose control.
Though perhaps this was a normal changeup in his repertoire. How would she know? She’d been screaming his name—she blushed at the memory—so he’d known there was no reason to wait. The etiquette of sex was still a mystery to her. But he’d certainly made it last longer the next three times. Lots longer. They’d been in bed the first time. After that, it had been against the wall. In the shower. Against the windows overlooking the neon lights. Her eyes became unfocused as a flash of heat went through her, lost in the memories.
“We can’t stay here,” Antonio said huskily. She blinked, her cheeks warming as she paused chewing her toast. Was she that transparent? Could he see that she’d been picturing just that?