‘Stay.’
Was he joking? He didn’t look as if he was. He looked more serious than she’d ever seen him. So could she be dreaming? Nope. She was awake. Wide awake now.
What was he doing?
Perhaps the novelty of sex after three long months without it—to which he’d confessed while heating up the linguine—had addled his brain. Or perhaps it was the lack of sleep. He’d gone out like a light the minute his head hit the pillows he’d retrieved off the floor after they’d taken a long, hot shower to wash the chlorine from the pool off each other. She’d taken a while longer, partly because he’d spread himself across the vast bed as if trying to occupy as much space as possible, which had left her perilously close to the edge, and partly because he was not a peaceful sleeper. He twitched and shifted as if the slightest noise might have him sitting bolt upright—a hang-up from his life on the streets?—and it had made her conscious of her breathing, which had kept her awake for a while.
‘I thought we agreed this was a one-night thing only,’ she said carefully, willing her strangely galloping pulse to slow down.
‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re on leave and I want more.’
Well, so did she, if she was being honest, because she’d never experienced the fiery passion he aroused in her, but extending her stay was out of the question. She had things to do back home. She wasn’t sure quite what yet, but the minute she landed she’d be compiling an extensive to-do list.
And despite the head-wrecking pleasure she’d experienced recently she hadn’t forgotten the whole justification for deciding to sleep with him in the first place. She needed to leave to protect herself. Rico was far too compelling and fascinating and she couldn’t risk developing an interest in him that went beyond the physical. If that happened she’d slide into seriously dangerous territory where her emotions became involved and the very essence of who she was would be at risk.
On the other hand, where was she ever going to get sex like this again? She might as well admit that she was already addicted to the way he made her feel. By sticking to the plan and waltzing off with a breezy smile and a casual wave, might she not be cutting her nose off to spite her face?
She had no doubt that it would be far safer to walk away and continue to live her perfectly fine life, which had no soaring highs but no plummeting lows either, but was that really how she saw the rest of her existence? Didn’t that somehow smack of opting out? Didn’t it imply that she was still affected by what had happened to her when she was young?
What if she actually took a risk for a change? So what if they talked? Where was the danger in that? She was struggling to continue to deny the curiosity burning up inside her. She was desperate to get to know the man beneath the surface, and it wasn’t as if she was going to lose control or anything. While Rico’s interest in her was flattering, it was hardly something she would let go to her head, and with his detachment she had no need to worry about the dangers of getting emotionally involved. He’d never allow it. Her defences would remain in place. She’d keep herself safe. And it hadn’t escaped her that she still hadn’t managed to convince him to meet Finn.
Here was a chance to kill several birds with one stone, she thought, a faint stab of guilt piercing the fiery desire that was unfurling in the pit of her stomach and stealing into every part of her. She might never have the opportunity again.
‘All right.’
* * *
Twenty-f
our hours later, with the thundering of his heart receding and his breath evening out, Rico stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, which was still spinning, and congratulated himself once again on the brilliance of his decision to ask Carla to stay. The moment she’d agreed—which had filled him with greater relief than he could ever have imagined the suggestion warranted—he’d rolled her beneath him, and, with the exception of the phone call he’d made half an hour later, they’d barely made it out of his bed since. He was feeling fitter and more energised than he had in ages and he couldn’t think of anyone with whom he’d rather make up for the abstinence of the last three months.
‘So what are we going to do today?’ she murmured huskily, stretching languidly beside him.
‘I have an idea,’ he said as unbelievably his body began to stir yet again.
She batted him with a pillow. ‘I know I’m on leave,’ she said with a quick grin that for some reason struck him square in the chest like a dart, ‘but don’t you have to work? What will happen to your billions under management if they’re not being managed?’
‘But they are.’
‘Who by?’
‘I hired someone.’
She sat up, to his immense disappointment clutching the sheet to her chest. ‘Wow,’ she said, staring at him, all tousled and rosy cheeked, which was a very good look on her, and, even better, a look put there by him.
‘It makes sense,’ he said, not quite sure why the news should provoke quite such surprise.
‘I know. But...well...wow. When?’
‘Yesterday morning.’
‘The phone call?’
‘That’s right.’