The mere idea of the prim and proper Sister Agatha being anywhere near Julius Ravera is an amusing one, andI’m guessing the crucifix she wears around her neck would catch fire on eye contact. I’m in no doubt Julius is more devil than saint, and yet he has a wicked way about him that attracts rather than repels.
The couple make their excuses and leave, and as soon as the door closes behind them, Julius turns the rusty key and heaves a huge sigh of relief.
“Alone at last.”
His words cause me to physically glow inside because it hasn’t escaped my attention that I am insanely attracted to this man.
His eyes gleam in the artificial light, and I wonder what he is thinking.
I don’t even know what I am thinking because obviously it’s only the two of us now and I’m without words. It’s as if we are meeting for the first time, and awkwardness rears inside me.
It’s as if he is a storm that I am chasing to feel alive. I should seek shelter, but the force of nature is too appealing.
Words are meaningless against my thoughts; denying my attraction would only be lying to myself. I want to experience Julius Ravera because I have a feeling that it would be the ultimate test.
“Are you hungry?”
His voice is husky, and I swallow hard at the evident interest in his smile. I’m not naïve not to realize when a man desires a woman. It’s obvious from the lust flashing in his eyes. He is looking at me the same way I gazed after the gardener. Wanting something unobtainable but daring to dream, anyway.
He breaks eye contact and nods toward the bedroom.
“You can take the bed; I’ll be fine on the couch.”
I’m touched by his thoughtfulness, and yet part of medies a little. Why am I imagining being curled against his body, craving the pressure of his skin against mine?
A burst of heat rips through my body, and it could be down to the intimacy of our surroundings or the fact we have been close for several hours now. Is it because he saved me from a fate worse than death, or could it be because he was chivalrous in offering me the bedroom?
I am too scared to voice my real wishes and take the coward’s way out instead.
“Thank you. Um, you are very kind.”
“I know.” He chuckles as he turns away, and my heart drags on the floor after him.
What is happening to me?
His voice interrupts my confusion.
“I’ll fix us some coffee while you check out the bathroom. Hopefully, there’s a tub or a shower, and you can relax while I light the fire.”
It sounds idyllic and probably exactly what I need, so I jump into gear and say in a higher voice than usual, “Great. I’ll, um, leave you to it.”
I almost sprint to the bathroom, clutching my bag, and as I head inside and close the door, I lean back on it to still my racing heart.
This is bad. So very bad because I’m about to face the biggest test of all. My attraction to him.
15
JULIUS
Thank God for chores, and I never thought I’d say that. Not that I do any–ever–but it distracts my mind from what I really want. Rose Zaferelli.
I heave a sigh as I turn my attention to the log burner, grateful that it has been prepared and a box of matches rests on the mantel above it.
As the spark catches the paper, I relish the heat. The stone barn conversion has a musty, damp smell that I don’t love, if I’m honest. It’s basic but charming and yet the most perfect place on earth because Rose is here. It’s as if she cleanses my dark spirit and leaves me wanting to be a better man, and I smirk as I remember the guy I am outside of her. If I were here with any other woman, she would be on her knees right now sucking my cock in front of this log burner. Sex has always been an act of physical gratification for me and an outlet for my demons to be forgotten for one euphoric moment.
I have killed more men than I’ve had conversations with, a sad statistic that will probably never change. I’m a fighter, a planner and an evil bastard and should never have beenchosen for this job. My father believes I will seduce Rose and marry her to acquire her fortune. I’m guessing that’s the plan for me too, but I am disturbed at the realization I need her to want me too.
I run my tattooed fingers through my hair, hating the way feelings have invaded my life.
