In the Heat of the Spotlight

Standing there, he knew that time had not yet come. Unfortunately for him.

‘Goodnight, Aurelie.’ He cupped her cheek, just as he had the night before, because despite all his promises he couldn’t resist touching her, just a little. Aurelie closed her eyes. Waited. It would be so easy to brush his lips against hers, to deepen the kiss he knew she wanted. But it was too soon, and he’d still seen the shadows in her eyes.

With a supreme act of will he dropped his hand from her face. He smiled—at least he thought he did—and walked down the hall towards his own lonely suite of rooms.

* * *

Aurelie stepped inside her empty suite and leaned against the door, her eyes closed.

Damn.

Why hadn’t he kissed her? He’d wanted to, she knew that. She’d wanted him to, had willed him to close that small space between them, but instead he’d pulled away.

Maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. And until you do, completely, I’m not going to touch you.

His words from yesterday reverberated through her, made her think. Wonder. Was he waiting for her to take the lead? To say she had no more uncertainty, no more fear?

Did she?

No. She was still afraid. She’d been telling Luke the truth when she said she’d never enjoyed sex. If she’d been totally honest, she would have told him she dreaded it. Hated it, and yet used it because at least then she had some control.

And now? She wanted sex—sex with Luke—to be something different. Something more. And that terrified her more than another bout of unenjoyable coupling.

She opened her eyes, paced the room, her mind racing. She wanted this. She wanted Luke. And, just like with her song, with the trust, with the intimacy, she knew she needed to push past the fear. For her sake as much as Luke’s.

So...what did that mean, exactly? Right here, right now? She ran her now-damp palms down the sides of her dress. Brushed her teeth and hair, applied a little perfume. And then before she could overthink it and start to get really nervous, she went in search of Luke.

CHAPTER NINE

LUKE yanked open his laptop and stared at the spreadsheet he’d left up on the screen. Work was as good an antidote as any to sexual frustration. He didn’t have any better ideas, at any rate.

Sighing, he raked his hands through his hair, loosened his tie and stared hard at the screen.

Five minutes later a knock sounded on the door of his suite.

Luke tensed. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and his staff would call or text him before disturbing him in his private quarters. So would anyone from the hotel. Another knock, soft, timid. He knew who it was.

‘Hello, Aurelie.’ He stood in front of the doorway, drinking her in even though he’d seen her just a few minutes ago. Her hair looked even more tousled, her lips soft and full. She’d sunk her teeth into the lower one and he could see the faint bite marks.

‘May I come in?’

It reminded him, poignantly, of when he’d first come to her house in Vermont. How he’d asked, how she’d been so reluctant to let him in.

As reluctant as he was now, because he knew how weak he was when it came to this woman. ‘All right.’ He stepped aside, felt her dress whisper across him as she passed by. ‘Do you need something?’ he asked as he closed the door. He heard how formal and stiff he sounded, and he could tell she did too.

Her mouth quirked upwards and she took a deep breath. ‘Yes. You.’

God help him. Her direct look, eyes wide, lips parted, had pure lust racing right through him. He clenched his fists, unclenched them. Breathed deep. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea, Aurelie.’

‘Funny, I think you’ve said that before.’

‘I know. And it wasn’t a good idea then, either.’ Hurt flashed across her face and she glanced away. ‘It’s too soon,’ Luke said quietly. ‘This is too important to rush things.’

She took a step towards him. ‘Maybe it’s too important to hold back.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think you’re ready.’

‘Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?’

‘Yes, but—’ He hesitated. Wondered just why he was fighting this so much. Then he remembered the look on her face when he’d rolled off her before, as if she’d been cast in stone. He’d felt...he’d felt almost like a rapist. Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair and sank onto the sofa. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’