But indignation was no match for other feelings. Fascination. Desire. Temptation.
She was twenty-three and she’d never been with a man.
Apart from those miserable months staying with her grandfather, she’d spent most of her life on a small island. She’d been home-schooled by Kate, her mother’s cousin, and later via online courses.
She’d had little to do with men, except for her dreadful grandfather.
Ida had told herself she’d fallen for Cesare’s looks and charisma because she was inexperienced. Yet in four years she hadn’t wanted a sexual experience with any other man.
From the moment he’d erupted back into her world she’d been fixated on him. Beneath every interaction was the sizzle of awareness. Even now she felt the shivery run of nerves under her skin.
She didn’t like him. Yet there was something between them she couldn’t deny.
Was it just sexual attraction? She hoped so, given the dangerous romantic dreams she’d woven about him before. It would be a relief if this was simple chemistry that could be eradicated by a fling.
He knew what he was talking about. He must have had lots of lovers.
Yet to give herself to him...
Ida didn’t like putting herself in any man’s power. Surely if they had sex, she’d be vulnerable to him?
But he’d admitted to vulnerability too. He’d said he wanted her in Rome.
Ida straightened and turned to walk the length of the long balcony, too keyed up to stay still.
Two things puzzled her: Cesare’s kindness, for itwaskindness, spiriting her away from Bruno, and his confession that he was drawn to her.
Had Cesare altered or just revealed what he’d hidden before?
The man was an enigma. He bothered and teased and fascinated her—
‘Can’t sleep, Ida?’
The velvety rumble stopped her in her tracks.
Slowly she turned. French doors stood open into a bedroom and a familiar tall figure stood propped against the door jamb.
Her pulse jumped.
Ida couldn’t read Cesare’s expression. But one glance absorbed his air of lazy masculine power, of intensity beneath the casual stance. His arms were crossed over his bare chest.
A surge of white noise in her ears blanked out the night as she took in that expanse of naked flesh, from straight shoulders all the way down to the narrow girth at his hips where he still wore trousers. His crossed arms emphasised his strength.
She’d sensed it when he was fully clothed but seeing him revealed now, albeit in the shadows, took her breath.
Ida grabbed the balustrade, stone biting her fingers.
‘Cesare! I didn’t realise...’ She wouldn’t have walked the length of the balcony if she’d known it led to the master suite.
Would she?
‘That’s disappointing.’ Ida couldn’t read his tone. Not amusement but something that she felt as a trickle of heat under her skin. ‘I thought you’d decided to join me.’
With the light behind him it was impossible to read Cesare’s expression, yet his body told its own tale. He might look relaxed, but the set of his shoulders belied that. As did the tension emanating from him.
Was his heart beating as fast as hers?
Ida wanted to plant her hand on his chest. A tingle ran across her palm as she imagined how it would feel. Would his chest hair be silky soft or crisp?