‘Open your legs for me.’
His voice was almost hoarse, and she could see just how close to the edge he already was.
She lay back and stared at the ceiling, feeling the seconds slip past, but he was there, cradling her in his arms as he moved her exactly where he wanted her. Then, with his lips on hers and his hands on either side of her head, he positioned himself and slid deep inside her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RUBY WOKE IN the night. She was in a strange bed, in a strange room, and every single fibre of her body tensed in alarm. She was in complete darkness, silent apart from the breathing near her face, Matteo’s breathing.
Matteo Rossini, CEO of Banca Casa di Rossini, Love Rat, sponsor of the British Ballet. The last man on earth she should be lying beside.
What had she done? What on earth had she done? How had she ended up here in his bed?
Her mind sped through the events of the night, landing on the moments that had led to this. There had been too much emotion, too many memories unwrapped and unravelled. Far too much champagne and wine. Definitely that was to blame.
She tried to remember how many glasses she’d had. Two? Maybe three? Half a glass when she’d got here?
Was it really the booze that had done for her?
This felt worse than any hangover.
There wasn’t any point in lying to herself.
She should never have agreed to stay the night. She felt as if she’d given something away that she’d never get back—let the genie out of the bottle, let herself down. She knew the other dancers thought she was weird because she made a point of setting herself apart. But it wasn’t because she thought she was better. It was because she was afraid she was worse...
She had to get out of here—now. She couldn’t face herself, never mind anyone else.
But suddenly the strong, heavy weight of his arm landed on her waist.
The urge to roll over and slide out of bed was almost unbearable, but she didn’t move. She lay still. She had to stop and think—not bolt for the door.
Waking up in a man’s bed was not the worst thing in the world. Other people did it.
But his arm was so heavy and he was so close. She could scent their night together—feral and musky. She breathed deeply, feeling her chest fill with air and then slowly empty. What a night. She’d done things she’d never done...feeling and giving pleasure until she had fallen into a deep sleep.
And hadn’t he been every bit as amazing a lover as she had thought he would be? And considerate. And kind. She didn’t have much to compare him with, of course, but she knew that she’d never been made to feel this way before.
The memory of him finding his release inside her sent echoes of pleasure pulsing through her body and she gave an involuntary sigh. Beside her, Matteo gave a sleepy grunt in response, and once more she had to stifle the urge to move.
Why was she like this? Why couldn’t she just lie there in a post-orgasmic glow like everybody else and enjoy it? There was something wrong with her—she knew that. She’d been told by both the men she’d slept with. She could have sex—just about—but staying the night was a complete no-no, and had been the undoing of each of her previous relationships.
I need to get an early night. Her get-out clause of every situation.
But to slope off out of Matteo’s bed? After what they’d shared that seemed—wrong.
In the darkness of the room gloomy shapes began to form and make sense—a chair here, a table with the round glass vase, the edge of a huge photograph of an island.
The slash of light from below the doorway spilled a silvery glow onto the discarded clothes on the floor. She could just make out the scarlet dress where it lay draped over a chair, its stiff petticoats giving it an air of waiting impatiently to be worn again.
She had enjoyed wearing it last night. Had had so many compliments about how it suited her. But when was she likely to wear a dress like that again?
Matteo would be off soon, back to Rome—more hosting, more guests, more fancy clothes and fancy people.
Her mind wandered, imagining how he would look, what he would wear and who he would meet.
Lady Faye and others like her.
She racked her brains. Had he mentioned her or any of his exes last night? She didn’t think so. He hadn’t really said much about himself at all. Only the stuff about rugby. He hadn’t mentioned any women and had closed her down fast when she’d mentioned his mother.