Virgin's Sweet Rebellion

Apparently Ben didn’t think so. He glowered. ‘I didn’t—I didn’t realise I was so rough.’

‘You weren’t that rough,’ Olivia answered. Great, she was blushing. But this was kind of an awkward conversation. ‘It’s not like you were manhandling me. And anyway, I told you I wanted it wild.’ She felt her cheeks heat even more. ‘I like that about you, Ben. It feels...honest.’

‘Honest?’ He arched an eyebrow, coldly sceptical. ‘Has anything about us been honest?’

Ouch. Now that hurt. More than it should, probably. ‘I’ve thought so,’ she said quietly, and felt the sting of tears behind her lids. Perfect. She was going to blush and cry. What an awesome way to cap off the evening. And just a few minutes ago she’d been covered in soap bubbles while Ben had kissed her senseless.

How had they got from there to here?

Ben was still staring at her bruise. Glaring at it, really. Olivia had no idea what had provoked this change in him, this bizarre anger. All she knew was she wanted what they’d had back. The gentleness and teasing and kisses.

‘How about a drink?’ she said, a bit desperately, because even though she was trying to hold on to it she sensed the evening and all of its promise slipping away from them.

‘No. I need to get back.’

‘Get back where?’ She sounded almost as if she were whining. Cringe.

‘I need to do some work.’ Ben wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom. Securing her own towel, Olivia followed him.

She would not beg, she told herself. No way. So he wanted to leave, fine. Had she really thought they’d cuddle all night? Besides, she needed her sleep, and she was pretty sure she’d find sleep difficult with Ben next to her. So this was good. All good.

‘When will I see you again?’ So much for playing it cool.

‘I don’t know.’ Ben was dressing quickly, attempting to pull his shirt together despite the decided lack of buttons.

Olivia watched him, shivering in her towel, knowing it had all somehow gone wrong and not knowing what she could do to fix it. ‘Ben...’ she began, only to trail off helplessly.

He glanced at her, his expression dark and fathomless. She couldn’t tell if there was any sympathy or understanding in that brooding gaze at all.

Then he reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. Olivia closed her eyes, unable to keep herself from doing it, even as she willed tears not to fall.

‘I’m sorry, Olivia,’ he said, an ache in his voice, and it wasn’t until he dropped his hand and had left the room that Olivia realised he hadn’t actually said what he was sorry for.

And by that time he was gone.

CHAPTER TEN

SHE HAD A BRUISE. A bruise he’d given her. His stomach churned as Ben strode away from Olivia’s suite. Logically, somewhere wrapped up in all the self-loathing and remorse, he knew he was overreacting. Knew that he hadn’t meant to hurt Olivia, that she wasn’t really that hurt to begin with, and it didn’t have to be a big deal.

But still, a bruise. A bruise he had caused without even being aware of it because he’d given in to the wildness she’d sensed in him. The same wildness that had once left a man unconscious and bleeding on a deserted street, as close to death as any man ever could be.

And as for tonight...memories came trickling back, icy and unwelcoming. Pushing Olivia back against the counter. Thrusting inside her without even remembering that this was her first time. Feeling totally out of control, overwhelmed by emotion, savage.

God help him, what had he been thinking? Doing? No wonder Olivia had seemed a little uncertain afterwards. Ben was amazed she hadn’t backed away, fear on her face. But maybe she hadn’t realised just how out of control he’d been. How consumed.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Ben headed upstairs for the pool. He needed to swim some laps.

A couple of hours later he lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, his head pillowed on one arm, his mind blazing with images of Olivia, memories he wanted to cherish despite his own despicable actions.

He pictured her smiling saucily at him as she licked chocolate off a strawberry. Kissing him in the kitchen. Wrapping her legs around his waist as she drew him deeper inside her. Lying with her on the huge bed, surrounded by rose petals, feeling happier than he had in a long, long time. Telling her things about himself, because he’d actually wanted to. Because it seemed like she understood.

And then seeing that bruise.

One little bruise, but it showed him who he really was. How he hadn’t changed. He still had the anger inside him, despite fourteen years of rigid control. Coming back here, being with a woman who actually affected him...it brought it all back.