Just another name. Just another name. The words were imploding like little bombs inside her brain, causing craters of doubt to form through her consciousness. “How often do you do this?”
Sabato’s brow furrowed. He was losing her. And that mattered to him in a way he couldn’t quite, at that point, comprehend. He closed the distance between them and put his hands on her hips. “I have never done this before.”
She made a noise of frustrated disbelief.
“Emily, I have never been with a woman like you. Sex has always been pleasurable for me, but I remain completely in control. With you, it is not possible.”
Her heart was thumping against her ribcage. Was he being honest?
“When I saw you earlier, I thought you were the most captivating woman in the world. When we spoke, I knew I wanted you. When we kissed, I knew I would have you. And when you came here, with me, I knew I needed to spend every moment of this weekend with you.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “It was selfish of me to arrange it. I concede that. But can you comprehend how impossible it was for me to let you walk out that door?”
Emily’s heart turned over in her chest. He didn’t want to let her go. She grabbed the justification with both hands. She didn’t want to look beyond it. She didn’t want to focus on how overbearing and chauvinistic such an act was. How conceited. Because he’d been motivated by desire. For her.
“We have a weekend,” he continued, as though he feared she might be wavering. “One weekend. Please, do not let this ruin it.”
“You are…” She pressed her lips together and then a weak smile broke across her face. “You are impossible to stay mad at,” she grumbled, pressing a fist lightly into his chest. “But don’t do something like this again. I know my job might not seem important to you, but it is to me.”
“I understand.” The burst of relief he felt at having averted the argument was phenomenal. It had the power of a cyclone and it rushed through him. “I am truly sorry.” His smile was dazzling. “I thought it would be a pleasant surprise.”
She nodded. “I at least need to call my manager. We’re friends. I need to explain…”
“That his boss’s boss has been seducing you?” He said, a slight tone of amusement in his accented words.
Emily pulled an expression of assumed awe. “Gee, that must make you my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss.”
Sabato nodded seriously. “And yet you appear to be completely in charge of me. So, cara, what shall we do next?”
Chapter 4
“You can come out of hiding now,” Sabato drawled, amusement impossible to suppress owing to the sight of Emily’s slender frame concealed by the partially closed door.
Her tone was indignant. “I was not hiding.”
“Oh, really? What were you doing? Checking for cobwebs?”
Her cheeks flushed a dark shade of red, and she lowered her gaze. “Okay, fine,” she muttered, padding barefoot towards Sabato. She’d pulled on one of his shirts, and left most of the top and bottom buttons undone, so that it revealed a distracting amount of cleavage and her flat stomach. He forced himself to focus on her face. “I just don’t want everyone to gossip about me.”
“Why do you care?” He asked simply, shrugging his broad shoulders.
Emily began to lift the lids off the platters of food and pile them neatly on the table but Sabato batted her hand away. “Sit,” he commanded, his face serious.
She settled herself on one of the chairs and crossed her legs. Sabato couldn’t help but stare at her smooth skin. Legs that had been wrapped around him for the better part of the day.
“Why do I care?” She asked, clasping her hands in her lap. “Because I work with these people. What they think matters to me.”
“And it would matter to you if they thought you were in a relationship with me?”
Something painful squeezed Emily’s stomach. “A relationship?” She shook her head. “That’s not … what they would say.”
“A sexual relationship,” he clarified, surprised at his own slip of the tongue. Sabato took great care to avoid implying in anyway a promise of commitment to a woman.
“Sex,” she nodded, licking her top lip thoughtfully. “And with you.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t want people to think I’m like that.”
“Like what, exactly?” He held his hand out for her plate and she lifted it towards him. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and nothing else. His bare chest was defined by muscles, and a coarse line of hair that ran down to his jeans. She looked away, pretending fascination at the way he was heaping various meals onto her plate.
“Like the kind of woman you’re usually with.”
His smile was sardonic. “And what kind of woman am I usually with?”