Emotions he couldn’t—and didn’t particularly want to—identify rolled through him. The night had been going well right up until his grandfather had made his speech and reminded him all over again how he had stuffed up in his youth.
Feeling the old sense of remorse rise up in him again, he turned his head into Poppy’s hair and inhaled her unique female scent, smoothing his fingers down her spine.
She shifted against him, sighing deeply, and he immediately felt calmer, as if she were the port his icy heart was seeking like a battle-weary ship caught in a storm.
Shaking his head at his uncharacteristically whimsical thoughts, he knew that only one thing here was true. Poetic.
Sex had been very effective at keeping h
is demons at bay.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A PERSON SHOULD feel good the day after they reached a much-longed-for milestone. Great, even.
Sebastiano felt like crap. The only milestone his brain could focus on was the one that had been reached in his bed last night, and that one wasn’t even his.
He told himself that if Poppy wasn’t troubled about losing her virginity then he shouldn’t be either. Unfortunately logic was in short supply right now and he scowled darkly as he sipped his rapidly cooling coffee and stared out at the slate-grey sea, almost indistinguishable from the sky above.
As far as he could tell, Poppy hadn’t stirred from his bed yet and he wasn’t completely surprised. He’d woken her twice during the night to have her again and he’d had to force himself to leave her before doing so again this morning. Only the notion that he wanted her a little too much for comfort, and the knowledge that she must be sore, drove him from the tangled sheets and out onto the sofa made of bricks.
Remembering how those sheets had become so tangled, and her soft cries of pleasure as he’d shown her what her body was made for, had him hardening once more like one of Pavlov’s dogs on speed. It would be pointless to deny that he wanted more than one night with her, but his guard was up, and putting some emotional distance between them seemed like the best move he could make.
He hadn’t meant to complicate their arrangement with sex, but what was he to do when she’d bailed him up against the drinks cabinet and told him she wanted to experience real pleasure?
The woman never stopped surprising him. But the last thing he wanted was for her to read more into last night than what it was—phenomenally hot sex—and, having been a virgin, she undoubtedly would. So he’d tread carefully and let her down gently. Not that his kindness made him feel any less of a bastard. The fact was, he’d taken advantage of their situation and now he had to deal with the consequences. Which made what he had to tell her when she woke up all the more complicated.
Hearing a noise behind him, he turned like a man about to face a firing squad.
Maledizione. What was wrong with him? So he’d stuffed up—again. Time to take it like a man.
‘Hi.’
Her soft, almost shy smile told a thousand stories and he knew none he’d want to hear. She wanted more. More than he could ever give. His gaze raked down over her thin cotton dressing gown. His heart lurched. She looked sleep-mussed and utterly beautiful. ‘You’re awake.’
Way to go, Castiglione; state the obvious, why don’t you?
‘Sort of.’ She touched her hair self-consciously. ‘I’m not a morning person.’
‘That’s good, because morning finished about a half an hour ago.’
‘Really?’ She glanced around searchingly, presumably for her watch or phone. ‘My body clock is all out.’
He frowned. ‘Because you’re usually just finishing up a late shift?’
‘Mmm... I suppose. Is that coffee hot?’
‘Yes.’ He poured her a cup and she moaned with pleasure at the first sip. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
They were acting like polite strangers and he found it impossible to get a read on her. Normally a woman would be wrapping herself around him about now and telling him how wonderful he was.
‘So.’ She broke the growing silence between them. ‘What happens now?’
‘Usually...’ Sebastiano began, wanting to shake up her insouciance when he had taken her damned virginity last night. ‘I take the woman I’m with back to bed,’ he continued softly. ‘And repeat everything that happened the night before. Several times.’ It was a lie. Usually he couldn’t wait to go for a run and get to the office. Except this morning it wasn’t true. This morning he’d happily drag her back through that door and repeat the night they’d just shared ad infinitum.
‘Oh.’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘No wonder that woman was crying on the phone.’