Even so the joy was all-encompassing as he trudged towards her through the snow. ‘Merry Christmas, Theo,’ she shouted. ‘I’ve got a present for you.’
Her sense of achievement faltered, though, when his head lifted, and his pure blue eyes locked on hers. Because instead of the playfulness—and potent awareness—she had become accustomed to, all she saw was irritation.
Okay, why did he not look pleased to see her?
‘I figured out how to work the sauna,’ she announced as he approached. ‘Thanks to the… Humph!’
The air expelled from her lungs as he bent and scooped her onto his shoulder, then swung round to march back towards the house.
It took her a moment to get her breath back, and orientate herself, the upside-down view of his backside covered in the heavy snowsuit not helping.
‘Theo! Stop. The sauna…’ she managed, her breath sawing out as she bounced on his shoulder. The wave of excitement at seeing him turned brittle when he muttered something in Greek.
She wriggled against his hold, her chest imploding, the validation from two days ago becoming breakable, too. ‘Put me down. Where are we going?’
‘Where the hell do you think?’ he said, his voice low with fury. ‘You ran out on me, after you promised not to. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.’
‘Wh-what?’ The accusation made no sense. She hadn’t run off, all she’d done was leave the house—the house they’d been trapped in for two whole days by the storm…
Why had he given her the code, if he didn’t trust her with it? And she hadn’t promised him she wouldn’t use it. In fact, she had made a point of not promising him.
But right behind her confusion was the crippling feeling of inadequacy. He was treating her like a disobedient child, instead of the bold woman she had become. The bold woman whose sexual awakening they had both revelled in. Hadn’t they?
He shouted something in Greek and the door to the garage swished open.
She began to struggle in earnest. She was angry now herself, and humiliated.
But it wasn’t until they got inside that he finally deposited her on her feet.
‘Why are you behaving like a jerk?’ she questioned, furiously stripping off the snowsuit, and the layers beneath, the heat in the garage making sweat drip down her temples and slide down her back.
He said nothing—no explanation, no apology, nothing—as he stripped off his own snowsuit.
By the time she’d kicked off her last outer layer and stood before him in her yoga pants and T-shirt she had channelled her anger to cover the hurt. She’d thought he saw her as a woman… That was the way he’d treated her—every time he’d touched her, caressed her, had driven her mad with hunger and need… But now she felt like that girl again, being bullied and chastised.
The charismatic playboy was gone, to be replaced by a glaring autocrat, a man she didn’t recognise.
‘I wanted to surprise you for Christmas and now you’ve ruined…’ she began, but then he grasped her arms and dragged her towards him, to press his forehead to hers.
‘Just stop talking…’ He groaned, his hands roaming over her.
The swift shot of arousal as his palms cupped her buttocks, and she became aware of the familiar ridge in his sweats, only added insult to injury.
She slapped her palms against his chest, wrenched herself out of his embrace.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she said, blinking rapidly to stop the tears already clogging her throat from spilling over her lids. ‘What right do you have to—?’
‘You shouldn’t have left the house. I told you not to. I woke up and I didn’t know where you were.’ She saw it then, the anguish in his eyes, and heard the panic in his voice… His skin had gone pale, the thick stubble on his jaw doing nothing to disguise the muscles tensing in his cheek.
And just like that, the caustic anger at the way he’d treated her, the way he’d disregarded her wishes and her autonomy,imploded. Because he didn’t look angry, he looked broken, haunted, the mask of the reckless playboy ripped away, to reveal a very different man beneath. Someone who cared, someone who could be hurt. A man she hadn’t glimpsed even while they had been making love.
But before she could ask him what was wrong, he had swung around and marched across the space to punch the concrete wall. She flinched.
He cursed in Greek and English. Then placed his palms on the wall, leaning against it, as if he needed to be propped up.
Her own legs felt like jelly as she walked towards him, her heart punching her ribs.
He’d always kept a crucial part of himself back, even in the height of passion. A part he hadn’t let her see. A part she hadn’t even realised existed until this moment.
