Still shaken by the knowledge that she hadn’t slept with a man before and unaccustomed to finding himself in situations where he had no idea how to react, Silvio ignored the part of his brain that was telling him to haul her back into his arms. ‘I can understand why you blame me, but—’
‘I don’t blame you. It was as much my fault as yours. I’m not a child, Silvio. I take responsibility for what I do.’ As if she couldn’t bear being close to him any more, she slid off the bed and reached for her red dress, every delicious curve visible in the moonlight as she stretched and wriggled back into the crimson tube.
It was like watching an erotic floor show and within seconds he was hard again. It took all his willpower not to drag her back onto the bed, roll her underneath him and repeat the ‘mistake’ until both of them were too exhausted to analyse anything.
‘Why are you getting dressed? It’s the middle of the night and the guests went home hours ago.’
‘This is the master suite.’ Her voice was steady but she didn’t look at him, her hair tumbling over her face as she dipped her head. ‘You sleep here. I’ll sleep somewhere else. I’m sure this isn’t the only bedroom on the yacht.’
In the grip of a volcanic eruption of male hormones, Silvio found it impossible to think clearly. Never before had a woman chosen to leave his bed before he wanted her to, so he had no experience with this type of conversation. ‘You sleep where I sleep.’
‘No one is watching us now, Silvio. It’s just you and me.’ She lifted the torn remains of her panties, her face scarlet as she realised they were no longer wearable. Her eyes met his briefly, and Silvio felt the heat sear his flesh because he had an all-too-vivid memory of the moment he’d removed them from her overheated body.
‘You’re not sleeping in a different bedroom,’ he said thickly, his anger with himself turning onto her.
‘This charade is over, Silvio. You decided that tonight when you ignored me in public and made love to me in private.’
She was prickly and defensive and nothing like the soft, yielding woman who had responded so passionately.
Was she pushing him away on purpose?
He knew she was hurting badly. And he knew he was the reason. Again.
‘I can’t imagine what’s going through your head right now and I don’t pretend to be an expert at reading the female mind,’ he breathed, ‘so why don’t you just tell me?’
‘I don’t believe in post-mortems, Silvio. If I make a mistake I prefer to move on—leave it behind. It’s not a big deal.’
He might even have believed her if he hadn’t known her so well. But he saw the pulse beating in her throat and the way her hands shook as she struggled with her zip. The effort required to look indifferent was draining her.
‘The first time you have sex should be a big deal.’ His voice soft, he watched the colour seep into her cheeks. ‘If you’d told me, I would have been gentler with you.’ He could have said that if she’d told him, he would have stopped, but he wasn’t sure that would have been the truth.
Had he really been capable of that degree of restraint?
She didn’t look at him. ‘It wasn’t the first time I’ve had sex. Don’t be ridiculous.’ She yanked impatiently at the zip. ‘One minute you think I’m a prostitute, the next you think I’m a virgin—you go from one extreme to the other. And neither is correct. Not that my sex life is any of your business.’
‘It’s just become my business.’
‘Give me a break, Silvio. The one thing I don’t need right now is chest-thumping and over-possessiveness. What I do need is air and space. So please don’t follow me.’ Like a trapped animal making a frantic attempt to escape from captivity, she shot out of the room and Silvio covered his eyes with his forearm and swore long and fluently in Italian.
Her body aching in unfamiliar places and her feelings a tangled mess, Jessie took the first set of steps she saw. And then another set.
She was running. Not just from Silvio but from the intense feeling of guilt that sucked her downwards at a terrifying speed. As the panic spread through her like some deadly disease, she felt as though her brother was watching her, his face twisted into a mask of condemnation.
No, Jessie, not that. Not him.
Sleeping with Silvio felt like the ultimate betrayal.
Gasping for air, she found herself at the prow of the yacht and closed her fingers over the metal rail, fighting for control. Out here in the fresh air, with the sea breeze cooling her skin, she couldn’t understand why she’d let it happen.
Why hadn’t she just said no?
Lowering her forehead onto her hands, she gave a low groan of despair. Lying to him was one thing, but what was the point of lying to herself? She hadn’t said no because she hadn’t wanted to say no. She’d dreamed about this moment for as long as she could remember and if it hadn’t been for Johnny…
‘You’re torturing yourself for no reason.’ The soft male drawl came from behind her and she lifted her head but didn’t look round.
‘Go away. I’m not going to jump, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
‘It isn’t.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Whatever you think, Johnny would have wanted you to be happy.’