He remembered the last time he had stood here. The night before he had been taken to England to live with his mother. He had stood in this doorway with a tsunami of emotion trapped in his chest.
Something in him had died along with Rosie. He could feel the place where it had been. It was a hollow space inside him where hope used to be.
The moon shone a beam over the empty bed where Flopsy the rabbit had slumped forward from his propped up position against the pillows. Leandro moved across the carpet and gently straightened the toy so he was back between the pink elephant and the teddy bear.
He turned from the bed, his heart all but stopping when he saw a small figure framed in the doorway. He blinked and then realised it was Miranda, dressed in cream-coloured satin pyjamas. ‘What are you doing up at this hour?’ he said, surprised his voice came out so even when his heart was still thumping like a mad thing.
Even though it was dark, except for the moonlight, he could see the twin streaks of colour over her pale cheeks. ‘I couldn’t sleep...’ she said. ‘I came down for a glass of water and I thought I heard something.’
‘You weren’t frightened?’
She captured her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Only a little.’
Leandro could feel his body calculating the distance between their bodies—every organ, every cell registering her presence like radar picking up a signal. He didn’t trust himself to be near her. Not since he’d kissed her. God, he had to stop thinking about that kiss.
He could see every line of her slim body beneath the close-fitting drape of the satin pyjamas she was wearing. He could smell the freesia scent of her perfume. He could still taste her in his mouth—that alluring sweetness and hint of innocence that made him hard as stone. Her auburn hair was all mussed up, as if she had been tossing and turning in bed. He wanted to slide those silky strands through his fingers and to breathe in their clean, fresh fragrance. Her skin was luminous in the moonlight, her toffee-brown eyes shining like wet paint. He surged with blood when she moistened her mouth with the quick dart of her tongue. Was she remembering their kiss? Reliving it the way he had been doing for the last couple of hours? Feeling the desire licking along her veins as it had along his until he was almost crazy with it?
‘Do you want a glass of milk or something?’ he said, leading the way out of the room.
She screwed up her mouth like a child refusing to take medicine. ‘I’m not much of a milk drinker.’
‘Something stronger, then?’
‘No, I’ll just head back to bed,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you.’
‘You weren’t disturbing me.’ He let out a short sigh as he closed the door behind him. ‘I was just...remembering.’
Her eyes glistened as if she was about to cry. ‘It must be so terribly hard for you, being here again.’
Leandro knew he shouldn’t touch her. Touching her was dangerous. Touching her made it harder to keep his resolve in place. But even so his hand reached out and gently tucked a flyaway hair back behind the shell of her ear. He heard her draw in a sharp little breath, her mouth parting slightly, her eyes flicking downwards to his mouth. ‘Don’t tear yourself up about that kiss,’ he said.
Her eyes skittered away from his. ‘I’m not. I’ve forgotten all about it.’
He inched up her chin, holding her gaze with his. ‘I can’t stop thinking about it.’
She rolled her lips together. Blinked. Swallowed. Blinked again. ‘You shouldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s not right.’
He slid his hand along her cheek, cradling her face as his thumb moved over the silky skin of her face. ‘It felt pretty right to me.’ Which was the problem in a big, fat, inconvenient nutshell. It felt so damn right he wanted to do it again.
And not just kiss her. He wanted her like he had never wanted anyone. He felt it in his body now—the thunder of his blood heading south. The tingle in his thighs made him want to bring her close enough for her body to feel him. To feel the need he had for her. The hunger that would not go away now it had been awakened. Would she pull away or would she lean in like she had when he’d kissed her earlier? Would her body press urgently against his? Would she make those breathless little gasps of approval as his mouth showed her what it was like to kiss a full-blooded man?
She swept her tongue over her lips in a nervous manner. ‘Just because something feels right doesn’t make it right.’
Leandro moved his hand on her face to brush the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. ‘Are you seriously going to spend the rest of your life being celibate?’ he said.