“You might be right,” I admitted as I swirled the champagne around in my glass. “There’s nothing like a mother’s love. Maybe nothing more we can ever expect.”
Xavier nodded, like he completely understood.
But he didn’t. I knew he didn’t.
And at that moment, I knew I’d made the right decision all those years ago.
It took him a few moments as I rose from the couch to realize I wasn’t using the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
I retrieved my coat from where he had laid it over a dining chair, then turned as I put it on. “Home.”
Xavier frowned. “What? Why? I thought we were getting somewhere.”
“We were.” I pulled my hair over my collar, then located my clutch, which had been placed on the sideboard near the elevator. It wasn’t until I pressed the call button that Xavier finally sprang up from the couch.
“Francesca. Don’t do this.”
I sighed and pushed the button again. “Xavi, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Can’t what? Talk? Get to know each other again? I don’t understand.”
I didn’t respond, just stared at the doors of the elevator, willing them to open before I changed my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to pull my daughter’s face before me. It was for her I was walking away. Because this cold, brooding creature had no place in our life.
Sofia was bright, affectionate. Mercurial and stubborn, yes, but incredibly loving. She was open with her heart and wanted nothing more than for others to do the same with her. So how, in good faith, could I offer her a father who had just admitted he could never love her?
I turned around to tell him exactly that.
But before I could, he kissed me.
His mouth was softer than I remembered. Warm and demanding, with the taste of steak and good champagne swirled through a flavor that was uniquely his. His hands were back around my waist, pulling me flush against his broad body before they slipped down, down to take a firm hold of my backside and lift me up so we were face-to-face.
The second he touched me, some current of energy deep inside me sprang to life. My fingers entwined through his silky black hair. As his hands slipped under the hem of my dress to take lush handfuls of flesh, I groaned into his mouth. He sucked my lower lip between his teeth and growled again before devouring me once more. And I opened like a parched flower to a rainstorm, soaking up every bit of it.
Something crashed to the marble floors of the suite. I had no clue what it was. The lights flickered on and off. I didn’t know if it was because I was backed against a light switch or if it was the pure energy flowing between this man and me.
It didn’t matter that he had changed so thoroughly from a lonely, if brooding young man to this jaded, ice-cold stranger. Some things apparently never change. Like the wanting—oh, God, the wanting—a deep chord of yearning that cut straight to the quick.
Five years ago, I’d been a naive virgin with no qualms about giving myself to someone I’d thought loved me. Now I knew exactly what he could offer, the heights of pleasure he would provide.
And I knew the price of falling after he brought me there.
“Stop,” I muttered, hoarse and out of breath.
My fingers stayed where they were, my legs wrapped completely around his waist, dress hiked up around my hips while he kneaded my thighs mercilessly.
“Fuck, Francesca,” he muttered before kissing me again. “Fuck. This mouth. I’ve been dreaming of this mouth for five fucking years.”
“You—I—we—”
I could barely get words out between kisses. So much for savoring. He was eating me whole.
But I was giving as good as I got. I wanted nothing more than to tear his shirt off, rip the tie from his neck, and feel every inch of hard muscle under this finery. Feel its heat pulse under my fingers.
Except.
Sofia.