‘Daisy...?’
‘Sorry,’ I muttered as I adjusted to the incredibly foreign feeling of him inside me. ‘This is very...new.’
‘New? Do you mean...?’
‘Yes.’ My voice came out in a suffocated whisper as I hid my blushing face against his shoulder. ‘I didn’t want to tell you.’
‘Why ever not?’ He gasped out the words, clearly using a superhuman level of restraint to keep himself from going any farther.
‘I don’t know. I thought it might put you off.’
‘Put me off? Glykia mou, why would it do that? Do you know me at all?’
Yes, I thought as my body opened to accept his. Yes, I do know you—better than you think...perhaps even more than you want. I know you, Matteo. I know you.
And then I gave myself up to the feeling—and to him.
* * *
‘Daisy...’
Her name was the only word on my lips, in my mind, as we spiralled towards that dizzying peak together. As she cried out softly, wrapping her legs around me, I had never expected to feel so much. Physical sensation, base pleasure—yes. I prided myself on giving that, as well as receiving it. But the feeling as Daisy surrendered herself to me, her body accepting and enfolding mine... As I looked down at her flushed face, her eyes dazed not just with passion but with something deeper, I realised that we were joined, truly as one in that moment. Man and wife.
Man and wife.
That blew me away. It left me shattered, physically replete and emotionally overwhelmed as I wrapped her in my arms, breathed in her scent, let her envelop me. I had never expected to experience such intensity—not mere pleasure, but emotion. Depth and need and caring.
I hated myself for it. This wasn’t in the plan. This wasn’t in the plan at all. And, worst of all, I knew Daisy felt it too—perhaps even felt it in me.
This was a disaster.
I rolled off her, my heart thudding in my chest as the aftershocks of our shared climax rippled through us both. We hadn’t even used birth control—something I’d been intending to do, but had forgotten in the moment. I wondered if Daisy even realised.
She was silent, a faint smile on her lovely face, her hair tousled in a golden-brown cloud against the pillow. She still wore the pendant I’d given her and it gleamed against her golden skin. She looked like a painting—lush and ripe and so very beautiful.
I got out of bed.
‘Matteo...?’
‘I’m just going for a drink of water.’ I tried not to speak brusquely because even now, when everything in me was both reeling and recoiling, I didn’t want to hurt her—more fool me.
In the kitchenette of our suite I took a few deep, steadying breaths. I caught my reflection in the polished glass of a cupboard and saw how hollow-eyed I looked, as if someone had carved something right out of me. Perhaps they—she—had.
I took a long draught of water, stalling for time, trying to think how I should play this. My instinct was to go into chilly withdrawal—my usual reaction when I felt anyone was breaching my defences.
But no one had scaled the walls the way Daisy had; they were crumbling all around me. I couldn’t retreat that way—not with her. It would be too cruel. It was a thought that made my mouth twitch in disbelief, because when had I ever cared about that? Yet somehow I did.
No, I decided, I would play it light. Easy. The way I had fully intended this evening to be when I had planned it. Perhaps if I pretended long enough, it would really be the case. Daisy would believe me, and I’d even believe myself.
On impulse, I grabbed a bottle of champagne from the fridge, and two crystal flutes, and strolled back into the bedroom wearing nothing but a smile.
Daisy scooted up in bed, the sheet covering her breasts, her hair tucked behind her ears. She smiled at me uncertainly, and the hesitation I saw in her eyes made me ache in a way I didn’t like.
‘Champagne.’ I brandished the bottle. ‘To celebrate.’
‘What are we celebrating, exactly?’
‘Us.’ I popped the cork on the champagne and poured two glasses to near overflowing. ‘That was truly wonderful.’