‘You shouldn’t have told me how you go blotchy. I can tell when you’re lying.’ He pressed one finger to the now-rosy skin of her throat. Natalia let out a reluctant laugh.
‘All right, so I might have been checking you out,’ she said, staying flippant. ‘So what?’
‘I like it,’ he told her, and nuzzled her neck. ‘I like it a lot.’
‘Don’t get all arrogant on me now,’ she said, and Ben lifted his head to gaze at her steadily.
‘Trust me, Natalia, you keep me humble.’
She swallowed, moved by the sincerity on his face. In his eyes. He’d let go, she realised. He wasn’t letting the fear or lack of control keep him back, yet she still felt uncertain. Afraid. And she knew that wasn’t fair to him. Tentatively she touched his cheek. ‘I like it when you say my name,’ she whispered.
‘I like that you like it,’ he said, his eyes darkening, and then he captured her mouth in a consuming kiss. They didn’t speak any more for a little while.
Later, as she showered in Ben’s en suite bathroom while he saw to breakfast, Natalia heard himself humming. Felt herself smiling. Had she ever been this happy before? Had she ever felt this free, this loved?
Ben hadn’t said it, not really. Loving you. Last night had he simply meant physically, or something more? She could hardly ask for clarification of that statement. Yet she felt, with a fragile hopefulness, that he did love her. That last night he’d been showing he loved her, in so many ways.
But he doesn’t really know you.
The whisper slid slyly into her mind, filled it with the slow, seeping poison of doubt. Natalia stilled, tensed, the water from the shower still streaming over her. She knew she still had secrets, things she hadn’t told Ben, important things. And with that hidden knowledge came a lingering fear that this couldn’t last. It couldn’t actually be real. He’d tell her he’d changed his mind or he’d discover something that would make him change his mind… .
How could she trust him? She didn’t do trust. She’d learned at all of five years old that you didn’t show your weaknesses. You didn’t tell people your fears. Yet she’d been doing just that ever since she’d met Ben. Something in him—that quiet, rocklike core of steadiness—made her want to tell him. To reveal herself, even as she kept retreating and trying to cover her tracks. Cover herself.
Natalia leaned her head against the slippery tile and closed her eyes as the water streamed over her like tears. She didn’t know if she could do this. If she was brave enough to be honest, strong enough to be vulnerable.
Why does it have to be so hard?
She had no answer.
As Natalia came out of the bathroom, swathed in a huge terrycloth towel, she saw that Ben had laid out a clean T-shirt and shorts of his to wear. Natalia slipped them on, grabbing one of his belts to cinch at her waist for the clothes swam on her. Not the most fashionable of outfits, but it touched her that Ben had thought of it at all.
She followed the mouthwatering aroma of bacon and eggs frying to the kitchen, where Ben stood by the stove, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a worn grey T-shirt. Even now the sight of him, from his rumpled hair to his bare feet, made her mouth dry and her heart thud.
She loved him. She wanted to love him…if she’d let herself.
Why does it have to be so hard?
‘Hey.’ Her throat felt scratchy, her voice wobbly and she tried again. ‘That smells good.’
Ben glanced up, his eyes glinting as he took in her appearance. ‘I like your new look.’
She held out her arms, the T-shirt sliding off one shoulder. ‘They’re a little big.’
‘You look gorgeous.’ And she knew he meant it. Why was he being so nice? Natalia wondered. She was waiting for the sting. She was always waiting for it. She glanced away, anywhere but at him. ‘Coffee?’ Ben asked, and when she nodded he handed her a steaming mug which she took with murmured thanks, wrapping her hands around its comforting warmth.
She cleared her throat. ‘So.’
Ben glanced at her, amusement quirking his mouth and lightening his eyes. ‘So,’ he repeated, and inwardly she started to squirm.
‘This isn’t easy.’
‘No?’ He took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug.
‘I’m not…’ She took a breath, let it out slowly. ‘I’m not
really used to this.’
‘I’m not either.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Why do you seem so relaxed then?’
He paused, seeming to weigh his words carefully. ‘Because last night made me happy.’