‘Now.’
Waiting was its own form of agony. He stayed where he was, even when he ached to claim her lips, to taste them, and this time he didn’t want to stop, despite the fact they were in a busy restaurant.
‘Our agreement—’
‘We can make a new agreement.’
And then, thank God, she caved, mashing her mouth to his with all the urgency that was driving him crazy, moaning into his mouth now, so he swallowed the sound and ached for more. Her hands lifted up, catching his face, holding him there, as her tongue explored his mouth, as she took control of the kiss and he could do nothing but experience her greedy stake of ownership.
This was a terrible idea. He’d known he wouldn’t want to stop what they were doing and he didn’t. With every fibre of his being, he wanted to strip the clothes from her body and make her his, to hell with their agreement, their deal, their goddamned marriage of convenience. They could draw new boundaries, afterwards. They could do anything,after. For now, there was only this.
‘Listen to me.’ It was Olivia who broke the kiss this time, wrenching her lips away as if in desperate need of air, staring down at her lap. She withdrew her hands; they were shaking badly.
‘Listen to me,’ she said again, this time reaching for her Prosecco and taking a sip, as if that could erase the urgency of what they’d just shared.
He didn’t—couldn’t—speak, and so he waited, right where he was, body still close to hers, head bent, desire a tsunami in his veins.
‘I’ve never done this before. I can’t just—I don’t know—what this feels like.’
He frowned, her words making no sense. He knew she’d never been married before. And he knew she’d never been to Venice before, nor to this restaurant. What was she trying to tell him?
‘Are you trying to tell me you’re a twenty-four-year-old virgin?’ he joked, in an attempt to defuse the tension that was tightening her beautiful lips into a straight, flat line.
She pulled back from him as if he’d slapped her, cheeks glowing pink, eyes not meeting his. His own smile, already taut from the effort it took to dredge up past the storm of passion ravaging him, lost its will, and dropped from his face. He swore quietly, but they were close, so she heard it and flinched, took another sip of Prosecco then clasped the glass in her hands, at her lap.
‘Yes.’ It was so quiet he had to lean forward to hear the word, but by then he’d already guessed. He knew. He just didn’t understand.
He jackknifed up, standing straight, staring out at the crowded restaurant without seeing anyone or anything. His mind was a whir of noise and movement, without the ability to comprehend.
‘So when we kiss, I feel things, and I want things, but I have no idea how to—’
He lifted a hand, silencing her. He needed to get a grip on his own emotions. On the one hand, her revelation made him want to put a thousand acres of space between them, on another, it fascinated him, drawing him to her, making him want to teach her, to show her, to be her first.
He moved back to his seat, gripping the back of it, eyes on Olivia the whole time.
She was so beautiful. Literally, the sexiest, most stunning woman he’d seen in his life and, given his dating history, that was saying something. How was it possible she’d never been in a relationship before?
‘You’ve never dated a guy?’
She stared at the table, shaking her head.
‘You’ve never fooled around?’
Another head shake, more ignoring him, until she lifted her eyes, finally, pinning him to the spot. And there was cool and reserved Olivia once more—and for once, he was glad to see her. This was a conversation that called for level heads. He sat back down, assuming a relaxed pose he definitely didn’t feel.
‘Until our wedding, I’d never been kissed.’
He angled his face away, biting back the curse that filled his mouth.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before we were married?’
‘I didn’t think it would be relevant. It’s not supposed to be like this. I didn’t even think we’d kiss at the wedding—my fault, that was naïve of me.’
‘But you agreed to pose as my doting wife, for my grandmother’s sake. Didn’t you imagine we’d have to share some physical contact, at some point?’
Her eyes showed embarrassment and, inwardly, he winced, wishing he didn’t sound so disbelieving.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t—maybe. I guess I thought we might hold hands or something.’