His pupils dilated to black and his jaw tensed, but the tight smile remained as he shook his head. ‘It is going to be a cold shower—if you join me, the purpose of it will be defeated.’
‘Oh, I see,’ she said, unable to deny the little leap of excitement that she could affect him in that way.
But when he lifted her hand to graze a perfunctory kiss across her knuckles, then left her standing on the balcony alone, the disappointment—and confusion—returned. Especially when she discovered Raif had directed the porters to put her two suitcases in a bedroom on the other side of the suite’s luxury living area from his own.
Had she misconstrued his intentions? Should she say something? She had thought that they would be together. Really together. And it wasn’t just about the sex, she wanted to share the intimacy of waking up in his arms, and discovering all his annoying little habits. They only had three weeks so why would he want to spend them in separate bedrooms?
‘Will you be okay on your own tonight?’
She swung round from the balcony of her bedroom to find him standing at the door in a newly pressed suit, his damp hair slicked back, his jaw clean shaven.
She swallowed her disappointment and tried to contain the inevitable leap of lust. She was being ridiculous, this was their first night, he was giving her space, being considerate. She must not overreact.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said.
He strode towards her, and clasped her face in his hands. ‘Order something from room service, there is a Michelin-starred chef here, I believe.’
‘You won’t be back in time for dinner?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said, but she could see the lie in his eyes—she wouldn’t see him again tonight. ‘But if I am delayed, I don’t want you to go hungry.’ He gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. ‘Get a good night’s sleep.’
After the main door of the suite had closed behind him, she turned back to the romantic view, which seemed to be mocking her. The sun had almost disappeared behind the rooftops, making the lights on the iconic tower glow orange in the dusk. She let out a tortured breath.
Maybe a cold shower wouldn’t be a bad idea for her, too, before she examined the room service menu.
She had three whole weeks to get to know the father of her child, and she had this beautiful city to explore over the next few days while he was busy in his meetings. Intimacy couldn’t be rushed. And they were as hungry for each other as they had ever been—a slight delay would only make them more eager.
She was being paranoid and insecure, because she had no experience of how to conduct an intimate relationship, any more than she suspected Raif did.
She placed a warm palm on the waistband of her jeans, which had already started to get a little tight, and smiled.
She needed to slow down and enjoy the moment, and stop wishing for more, when she already had so much.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
YOU NEED TO stop messing about and seduce him—tonight.
Kasia smoothed shaky palms down the purple satin of the gown she had been fitted for that morning in an exclusive designer boutique just off the Champs-Élysées.
They’d been in Paris for four days now—and four nights—and despite two evening meals in the hotel’s Michelin-starred rooftop restaurant, when their conversation had been stilted and polite, she’d barely seen Raif or spoken to him. Part of that had been her fault. Each morning, after surviving the now regular bout of morning sickness, she’d fallen back into
bed exhausted and woken up hours later to find him gone.
But the nights she had spent alone, deposited back at the suite with a perfunctory kiss and an increasingly banal excuse, were entirely Raif’s fault.
Why didn’t he want to spend any quality time with her? Why didn’t he even want to sleep with her? She knew desire was not the problem, from the way she’d caught him looking at her on several occasions before he could mask it.
Keeping herself busy and trying not to dwell on the progress they weren’t making hadn’t been too hard. He’d left a car and driver at her disposal and given her a platinum credit card that she’d used to buy a suitable wardrobe for the charity ball they were attending tonight.
There had been so many places to explore, so many sights and sounds to excite and entertain her, but underneath the excitement had always been the disappointment she wasn’t seeing any of them with him. She hadn’t pressed him, though, on the time they spent apart. She knew he was busy, and the principal reason for him being in Paris was his business interests in Europe. She’d been impressed with how hard he worked, had even been a little bit astonished to discover he spoke fluent German, French and Italian.
On the one morning she’d managed to wake up before he’d left for the day she’d heard him conversing in all three languages during a conference call.
But tonight was going to be different. They were attending a charity ball at the Petit Palais and she’d spent all day preparing her master plan—to finally turn the heated promise in his eyes into reality.
The gown’s classic lines and sleek, simple cut hugged her curves and managed to look elegant despite accentuating her increasingly generous bosom. Having spent most of the afternoon since she’d returned from the dress fitting visiting the hotel’s spa—being buffed and primped to within an inch of her life—and then the salon where her hair had been tamed and styled into an elaborate chignon, she finally felt like a queen, instead of a serving girl playing dress-up.
Tonight was the night.