He petted her as he carefully withdrew and kicked out of his pants. Then he scooped up her still-quivering body and carried her toward the stairs.
“You didn’t—”
“I know exactly what I have and haven’t done, mia bella.” His ears were ringing with the pulse hammering upward from the damp, urgent flesh between his thighs. “If you think I’m going to let our last time be a one-sided dalliance in the front room, you haven’t learned one damned thing about me or what I expect from my mistress.”
* * *
It wasn’t unusual for them to make love two or three times in a day. Sometimes it was a rush of passion, sometimes a slow, sultry buildup.
It had never been quite such a complete immersion. They ignored the phone when it rang, ignored the growl of their stomachs, barely even spoke except to encourage or compliment or groan incomprehensibly.
Finally, when it was well and truly dark beyond the windows, they landed weak and sated and aching with sensual exhaustion, limbs tangled, quiet and still at last.
The sense of closeness between them was so acute that Gwyn could barely comprehend that it was over, but it was. Those panting moments when their hearts had beat in unison had merely been physical compatibility. Nothing more.
Shifting her arm off her stinging eyes, she decided a trip to the ladies room might be in order to keep herself from revealing how hard this was for her.
“Stay,” he said as she began to rise.
A helpless noise escaped her. “Honestly, Vito, I don’t think I can. That was...a lot.” Her loins were stinging and tender, her muscles quivering with overuse.
A gruff noise escaped him, part humor, part apology. He came up on an elbow and scooped her beneath him, heavy on her as he pinned her to the mattress. “That’s quite a compliment if you think I have anything left in me,” he growled, nose going into her neck and inhaling. “I mean stay in Milan. This doesn’t have to end here and now.”
She stilled. “You’re asking me to stay as your mistress?”
“Sì.”
The room was dark shadows and rumpled blankets; her world narrowed to the warmth of his lips against her collarbone. He didn’t see her wince of agony at the term. He might sometimes refer to her as his lover, but that was a euphemism for what she really was. She knew that and she had justified what she was letting herself become as necessary for their ruse.
But that was no longer necessary.
“Because it would look better for the press?” she asked.
“Because we’re good together.”
That surprised her, making her heart leap as though he’d admitted to deep, abiding affection even though she knew he only meant they knocked each other off the bed with the intensity of physical pleasure they gave each other.
If she stayed with him, wouldn’t that allow time for him to develop deeper feelings toward her, though? It was the kind of treacherous, self-delusion all women were capable of, when they were half in love with a man who didn’t love them back. She knew it, but she was still tempted to let him talk her into staying. To see.
She traced the line of his spine and lightly searched for proof that he might already be harboring feelings toward her.
“What if I don’t want to?” she asked.
His turn to go completely still. He lifted his head and in the muted light she saw his hard mouth twist. “I’m not a man who begs, cara. Be careful about bluffing. I’ll call you on it.”
She ought to be happy he’d gone so far as to tell her he wanted her to stay, she supposed. It was quite an admission from such a self-sufficient man. One who could have his choice among women.
“It’s not an ultimatum,” she said, trying to hide her hurt behind a neutral tone. “I told you when we first met that I don’t have affairs. Relying on you goes against everything I’ve tried to become. I ought to start salvaging my life, not leave it on hold.”
His tense hand on her waist grew heavy. “I respect your independence. I do,” he assured her. “But your life is already on hold, I carry some of the fault for that and I have the means to support you while you give real thought to your next steps. Let me do this for you, cara.”
I respect you. Such a small phrase and it moved her so very deeply to hear it. How could she not stay and try to nurture that into something even more meaningful?
“I don’t want to lose that respect,” she said, hearing his breath catch and taking heart from it. It almost sounded like he was bracing himself. “But I do enjoy the sex.”
If the noise he made sounded to her like relief, she knew that was wishful thinking. He was amused, which had been her goal. Keep it light. Don’t let him know how emotionally dependent she really was.