Had she really believed she could sleep with Dominic, have him be her first lover and suffer no emotional fallout whatsoever?
But even as she acknowledged the foolishness of that assessment, she refused to regret her decision. How many women could say they had been initiated into sex by their childhood crush—and got three amazing orgasms into the bargain?
Dominic and last night had been a gift. A gift she had deserved after the harsh realities of her life ever since that summer in Provence. Through the many dark days spent watching her mother become addicted to prescription painkillers, and throw herself at men who didn’t treat her with respect, or kindness. Seeing her become a shadow of the beautiful woman she’d been that summer when Pierre LeGrand had loved her.
Perhaps it was ironic it was Pierre’s son who had given Ally this boon, but why did it have to be significant?
She already knew the gift of great sex wasn’t something that could last.
It was the one thing she had discovered while watching her mother sink into despair. That it was far too easy to mistake sex for love—and love, even when it was genuine, was totally unreliable.
It required you to allow your life, your happiness, to be dependent on the whims of others. She’d learned a valuable lesson in the last twelve years: not just that love could destroy you if you let it, but that survival meant relying on yourself and no one else.
The yearning she felt, the sadness that last night was never going to be repeated, was purely physical.
Dominic was a handsome, powerful and overwhelming man—and an experienced lover. And they had a past dating back to the days when she’d still believed in love and romance. Of course she’d been captivated by him.
But she could not allow what had happened last night to have any lasting significance in her li
fe.
Plus she was never going to see him again—if she got a move on.
Once she was back on her bike, delivering pizzas and urgent documents and maybe even someone else’s wedding ring—last night would all be a wonderful dream, which she’d be able to pull out of her subconscious and enjoy whenever she needed a pick-me-up or an incentive to get through another day.
She flung the sheets over the bloodstains, and sat down to wrestle her still-damp cycling shoes back on. Then walked back out of the room.
There was no sound coming from the floor below.
Thank God, she hadn’t sabotaged her getaway with loads of pointless soul-searching.
She rushed down the wide sweeping staircase, then headed along the hallway towards the back of the house, retracing the steps she’d taken the night before; the cleats of her cycle shoes clattered on the polished wood flooring. She spotted her bike, parked inside the back door, and felt the tight feeling in her chest release—and her lungs deflate a little.
It’s all good. A quick getaway is for the best, to save the discomfort of the morning after.
A rueful smile tugged at her lips. Never having had sex before, she didn’t know the etiquette for a one-night stand, but even she knew the morning after was something best avoided. Especially if you’d effectively tricked your lover into taking your virginity.
But as she stepped past the door to the kitchen, a wry voice rang out.
‘Alison, you’re awake. I hope you slept well?’
Crap! She was totally busted.
Dominic sat on one of the stools next to a large breakfast bar. The doorway she was now standing in like a dummy led into a huge open-plan kitchen—its state-of-the art appliances and stark metal and glass design in striking contrast to the Georgian majesty of the rest of the house.
But it wasn’t the kitchen design that had all her attention.
Her lover looked every inch the master of industry in a sharp two-piece business suit, polished loafers and a starched white shirt. Gold cufflinks peeked out from the sleeves of his jacket and she could spot a dimple in his chin she hadn’t noticed the night before thanks to his now clean-shaven jaw.
Apart from the fluorescent lighting shining on his slicked-back hair, which suggested he’d showered fairly recently, too—probably while she was wasting time with all her pointless soul-searching over a couple of bloodstains—he couldn’t have looked any more indomitable.
Her lover.
The words reverberated in her chest. Novel and delicious—and also ludicrous. Dominic wasn’t her lover. He was a man she’d had one glorious night with.
As usual it was impossible to read his expression. The tenderness from the night before, when he had kissed her goodnight, was gone, replaced by a sensuous but oddly impersonal smile. He’d been in control last night, but he was even more so now.
She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling naked beneath that searing gaze, despite her muddy cycling gear.