“I told you from the beginning,” he said harshly. “Those are things I do not want. Not now. Not ever.” With a deep breath, he took a step toward me. Gently, he cupped my cheek with his hand. “But I do want this. You. We can enjoy each other. For as long as the pleasure lasts.”
His palm was warm and rough against my cheek, and I suddenly felt like crying. “It could be more. You have to know—”
He was already shaking his head grimly. “Don’t do this to me, Diana. Let this be enough. Don’t ask for more than I can give. Please. I’m not ready to let you go. Not yet—”
Pulling me tight against his hard-muscled body, he kissed me passionately in the shadowy stairwell of the Kensington townhouse.
I knew I should stop him, to force him to listen, to tell him the two things that were causing such anguish—joy, terror, desperate hope—in my heart.
I loved him.
I was pregnant with his baby.
But I was scared the moment I told him, our relationship would end. He’d see me and the child I carried both as unwanted entanglements. Because he’d already made up his mind about what he wanted. And what he didn’t want.
He wasn’t going to change.
Holding him tightly, I returned his kiss. Tears streaming unchecked down my cheeks, adding salt to the taste. His lips gentled as he pressed me back against the wall of the stairwell. My head fell back as he kissed down my throat. I gasped, trembling, caught between desire and the agony of a breaking heart. How could I realize I loved him, only to lose him the same night? Blood rushed in my ears like a rhythmic buzz.
Edward pulled away with a curse, and I realized the buzz was actually his phone ringing. But who would call him so late? A business emergency? A secretary?
A mistress?
No. Surely not. But we’d never promised fidelity. He’d promised only pleasure.
“It’s not me,” he said shortly, looking at his phone.
Frowning, I reached down for my tiny purse that had dropped to the floor, and saw it was actually my new phone ringing. But other than Edward, the only person who knew the number was my stepfather, who’d just wrapped up production in New Mexico.
I stared down at the caller ID.
“It’s Jason,” I breathed.
“Black?” Edward’s scowl deepened. “Why is he calling you?”
“I have no idea.”
“Has he done it before?” he bit out, almost unwillingly.
I shook my head. “Something must be wrong... Oh my God.” Images of Howard or Madison hurt flashed in front of my terrified eyes. Turning away, I answered anxiously, “Jason?”
“Diana?”
“Why are you calling me?”
“I’m in California... I got the number from Howard.”
“What’s happened? Is someone hurt?”
“Yeah. Someone’s hurt.”
I held my breath.
“I am,” he said quietly. “I made a horrible mistake.”
I frowned. “What do you mean, you made a mistake?”
Edward had been glowering beside me. But at this, he turned on his heel without a word. I watched him stalk up the staircase. Was he mad at me for answering a call in the middle of our kiss? But that wasn’t fair. He was the one who’d picked up his phone first.
“I shouldn’t have cheated on you,” Jason said on the phone. “I should have known we’d get caught. Even at night, there’s always people around the Eiffel Tower. I have so many regrets. I should have...” His voice trailed off. “You know Madison and I broke up.”
“I know,” I said gently.
He exhaled. “Is there any way you can ever forgive me?”
“Sure.”
He paused. “Really?”
I realized somewhat to my own surprise that I’d forgiven and forgotten long ago. The way I felt for Edward now, all the angst over Jason seemed a million years ago. It didn’t matter. As Edward had said—I was a different person then.