Seizing her wrists, he held her firmly beneath him, with her hands safely captured on the pillow above her head. He had never seen her like this, with her lips parted to suck in air, her eyes black with passion, but he needed no reminder that his reality did not include mindless sex with a woman he had loved since childhood.
‘Lucia.’ Having managed to free her hands, she had started tugging at his clothes. ‘Lucia, stop that!’ he said sharply.
Bringing her hands down, he held her as her expression changed from furious passion to shock at what she’d done, and then to something that stabbed at his heart, until finally she turned her face into the pillow as if she had done something wrong.
‘Lucia, look at me,’ he said gently. Drawing her into his arms, he stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. ‘I only stopped you because it shouldn’t be like this. Not the first time. Not for you.’
‘But it isn’t the first time,’ she confessed, anguish at all her perceived faults making her voice break.
‘I’m talking about the first time with me,’ he said, his lips tugging wryly as he stared into her troubled eyes. ‘If you really think I’m that sort of judgemental jerk, what are you doing in my arms?’
‘Doesn’t everyone think I’m a party girl?’
‘Only those who can’t see through you as I can.’
‘I’m not like my mother, Luke.’
She made it sound like some sort of monumental failure, which really shocked him. He had never realised Lucia’s insecurities cut so deep, or had such history.
‘My mother was a free spirit, and I so wanted to be like her. But when I try to do the things she did I just make a mess of everything.’
‘You don’t make a mess of anything,’ he argued tensely.
Lucia’s mother had been more than a free spirit; she had been reckless. If Demelza Acosta hadn’t insisted on going back into the estancia to save some silly trinkets Lucia’s father wouldn’t have tried to save her and they would both be alive today. He would never tell Lucia what he knew about the flood, but she was so wrong to compare herself unfavourably with her mother. Lucia had far more common sense.
He only realised now what coming back to Cornwall meant for both of them. It meant facing the truth—however unpalatable that truth might be.
‘That concierge made me feel as if I’d led him on,’ she said, pulling him back to the present with a jolt. ‘I keep re-running what happened through my head to see if he was right, if it was my fault …’
‘You’ve got to stop that right now,’ he insisted pulling her into his arms. ‘That man was sick. He was bad, Lucia. Look at me.’ He cupped her chin with his hand so he could stare deep into her troubled eyes. ‘What you’re thinking is impossible. You would never act like that. I know for certain, because I know you better than anyone. You cover everything with humour and a bold face, but inside you’re as tender as a—’
‘Steak?’ she suggested, reverting to the jokes that had always kept her safe before.
‘I was thinking more tender as a summer night,’ he said, lips tugging as she stared at him in disbelief.
‘Since when has the Enforcer been a poet?’ she demanded, narrowing her eyes.
‘I went to school, too,’ he said with a shrug.
Her gaze steadied on his as she realised that he had no intention of allowing her to distract him. She frowned, then heaved a breath and said, ‘Okay. I worry that I can’t … you know …’ Turning her face away, she said, ‘I can never give you what you want, Luke.’
The thought of some bully leaving her in this state made him angry all over again. ‘Maybe I don’t want as much as you think.’
‘You just want kisses?’ she said, pinning him with a suddenly fierce look. ‘No. I didn’t think so.’
It hurt to see her mouth twist in that heart-wrenchingly familiar grimace. From the day her parents had drowned, Lucia had hidden her feelings from everyone. She would rather tie her face in knots than let anyone see how she felt inside. That was the look she was giving him now.
‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ he said. ‘You make me feel like Bluebeard.’
‘It’s not just the concierge and what he did to me,’ she admitted. Drawing a deep breath, she went on, ‘I’ve never—’ She stopped. ‘Help me out here.’
‘Enjoyed sex?’
‘How did you know I was going to say that?’
‘I applied intuition,’ he said dryly.