It had been sex, pure and simple. They’d goaded each other into it, angry as well as sexually aroused. It would be a mistake to read anything more into what had happened.
Yet she recalled Angelo’s expression as he’d joined with her the second time. The patience and care he’d shown. More than that, she’d felt real tenderness, almost reverence.
Could it be that, despite the circumstances, they had found something special? Itfeltas if they’d shared something that transcended simple carnal lust.
But what did she know? She’d been a virgin.
The knowledge was like an earthquake, undermining the few certainties she’d managed to cobble together. If she’d been a virgin then surely that meant she wasn’t the woman Angelo believed her.
Where did that leave her?
Who was she?
Suddenly fear stirred. Fear of being adrift again. Of that grey world of nothingness that had engulfed her when she’d first woken to no memory.
Angelo planted his palms on the marble benchtop and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked the same as usual but he felt completely different. As if the world had tilted on its side and everything he knew or thought he knew had shattered.
His body still pulsed from orgasm and his brain was foggy from the remnants of explosive ecstasy, but his belly roiled with a sickening mix of guilt, shock and awe. It felt selfish to dwell on how wonderful their sexual encounter had been when the implications were so mighty, turning everything upside down.
How badly had he hurt her? His gut clenched as he recalled her stunned gaze, eyes wide and pleading.
How had he got everything totally wrong?
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to identify a moment when he might have withdrawn and walked away from tonight’s tempestuous events. But there wasn’t one. Making love to Ally had been inevitable from the moment they’d marched into her room, sparking fire off each other.
No, earlier than that. From the moment he’d seen her with Oliver and rage had boiled in his blood along with jealousy. It had already been too late then.
As it had been even earlier in the evening. From the moment she’d sashayed into the living room in that slinky blue dress and something inside his brain had shorted. He’d tried and failed to keep her away from the party because he’d known the alternative, spending the night at home, trying to ignore how much he wanted her, was inconceivable.
Angelo tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that what had happened had been mutual. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her.
Want. Such a weak word for that tremendous surge of desire, possessiveness and sheer desperation.
He hung his head. It didn’t matter how fated it had seemed. Or that they’d both been desperate for it.
He’d just deflowered a virgin.
An innocent.
Nothis ex-wife. Not a woman who understood that, however compelling their drive for intimacy, this wasn’t about love but about raw, unvarnished lust.
Ally wasn’t the woman he’d believed her. Yet she’d had to withstand his withering scorn. He shrank at the memory of how he’d treated her since her arrival, taking his anger out on her.
This wasn’t Alexa but a woman he didn’t know. A woman who didn’t know him.
He might not have seduced her into sex. It had been entirely mutual. Yet that didn’t stop his guilt. It tormented him, curdling his stomach. He should have been caring for her, not giving in to lust.
His mother and sister told him he was over-protective, shouldering too much responsibility and trying to safeguard them from every hurt. Maybe they were right. But tonight, again, he’d failed spectacularly as a protector.
Angelo raked a hand through his hair and straightened, sucking in a deep breath.
It was time to see how Ally was.
He paused in the doorway to the bedroom, heart slamming into his ribs as he saw her lying, curled on her side, looking spent and fragile.
How badly had he hurt her? The question made him feel queasy, but he had to know.
He crossed the room and gingerly sank onto the bed beside her. She didn’t look up, though she must have felt the mattress sink.