He laughed, inordinately pleased by that description. “I guess I must be.”
“I’m serious. None of that sounds particularly safe.”
“Safe is boring.”
She shuddered and turned away and for the briefest second he felt the same sense of reserve with which he was familiar. Only for a second. As they walked up the steps to the wide door of the villa she let out a noise of enchantment. “Perfect,” she said on a sigh. “Look at this.”
He was looking, and it was perfect, but he wasn’t noticing the door. That he’d seen a thousand times before, the original from the villa had been salvaged, an ornate carved timber, it was imposing and beautiful at the same time. He pressed his thumb to the keypad and the door sprung open.
“Fancy,” she grinned.
“Naturally.” He waved his hand. “After you.”
She stepped into the foyer, removing her shoes. He was about to tell her not to bother but the part of his anatomy that was doing most of the thinking figured it was just one less thing to remove later. Besides, there was something about her bare feet that was beautiful and seductive. Feet? What the hell had come over him?
“Would you like a tour?”
When she looked at him her cheeks were ever so slightly flushed. “I – no.”
He lifted a single brow, though he was pretty sure he took her meaning.
“You have to get back to Villa Fortune?” He prompted, knowing it made him a bit of a bastard, but he wanted her to spell it out for him. He wouldn’t have said until that moment that he had a needy bone in his body but apparently he wanted some kind of reassurance that she really was into him.
“At some point,” she agreed slowly, but there was a hint of uncertainty in the words and then he really did feel like a bastard. He closed the distance between them, giving up on his game of making her admit she wanted him. They both knew the score – there was no sense pretending.
“Then how about we have a very localised tour,” he suggested, his hands unbuttoning her jeans.
“Just your bedroom?” She prompted.
He grinned. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
Her head was spinning. Her body was jelly. Her insides were mush. Her heart was racing. Everything simultaneously ached and felt better than ever. She pushed up onto her elbow, bracing her cheek in the palm of her hand as she looked down at Raf’s face. Lying on his back, his cheeks stained a dark purple after the exertion of an afternoon’s incredible sex, she stared at him and felt a thousand and one things. Pleasure. Happiness. Relief. And yes, guilt, and remorse, but they were small parts of her – perhaps parts she’d always feel and have to juggle in her day-to-day life. Maybe she’d never find a way to balance those feelings. Perhaps that’s why she’d chosen a path of solitude, knowing that the best thing for her bruised, battered heart, was to shelter it for the rest of her life.
“I definitely like your house,” she heard herself quip, pressing her fingertips to his broad, muscled chest.
He turned to face her, his grin pure sensual heat. “You’ve only seen the bedroom.”
“That’s all I need to see.” She winked, dropping back against the pillows as he slid an arm beneath her, pulling her to his side.
“So you’re really just going to use me for sex, huh?” He teased.
“That’s our deal right? You’re sort of my gigolo.”
He burst out laughing. “Don’t I have to be considerably younger?”
She pouted. “Well, true, but you’re handsome and rich, so…”
He shook his head. “I think you’d be my gigolo, or whatever the girl equivalent is.”
“Nope, I’m too prickly for that.”
“Prickly?” He repeated, smiling.
“Yes. Like Gabe.”
“Oh, really?” He pulled a face. “Now I’m thinking of my brother, and that’s definitely not ideal.”
“Aw, sorry.” She battered her eyelashes to show she was anything but. “He reminds me of myself.”