“No.” She lifted her face defiantly to his. “You can’t jerk me around like this. I really … liked being with you,” she winced at the insipid turn of phrase. “I like you. I don’t see why this has to be some stupid two-day thing. I mean, we’re both in Rome. We could …”
He shook his head. “It’s more complex than that.”
“Why?” She demanded huskily. “You either want more of this or you don’t. But if you don’t, and going from your behavior today you don’t, then just go. Just leave me alone. Please.”
He jammed his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. “What do you want from me, Kate? How do you see this working?”
Hope flared inside of her. It was a chance. It was something; an opening, an opportunity. “Why can’t we just … date?”
“Date?” He stared at her with undisguised amusement. “I don’t … I’ve never dated.”
“You’ve never dated?” She repeated with obvious disbelief. “I thought you were super experienced …”
“Si.With sex,cara. That is not the same thing. Dating is not in my make-up. I’m not interested in romance. So instead, we can keep sleeping together. You come to my home, where you are safe, and we sleep together as we have been. Is this what you want?”
She bit down on her lip. “And you don’t think it’s more than that with us?”
He padded his thumb across her cheek. “I have never offered you more than this. I do not believe I’ve done anything that should have led you to believe I want a relationship with you.” He’d been careful, hadn’t he? Despite the beauty of his villa, and the romance inherent to its tumble-down state, he had not offered more than he wanted to give. Had he?
“Just sex,” she repeated with a slow nod.
Even that was foolish in the extreme. His phone was a weight in his pocket. What would he find when he finally switched it on? Apart from the deluge of calls relating to business, would there be one from Augustine? How would he sound? Would he be furious? Angry? And why couldn’t Benedetto muster more interest in that speculation?
“So?” He was already lifting her clothes back into his arms, his belief that she would accede to his wishes obvious.
“No.” She reached out and took the pile of shirts and pants from him and placed them back on the bed. “No. I’d like you to leave now.” She pulled a sweater from the bottom of the stash and lifted it over her head. It was enormous on her and made her look, somehow, even younger.
Benedetto felt consternation swell inside of him. “You really want me to go?”
She was stubborn. He could see it in the set of her features and he admired her for it.
Only he had one easy way to bring her around to his way of thinking. Gently, so that she didn’t startle, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.
His lips claimed hers hungrily, his body requiring hers to submit as always. He felt her stiffen and then relax; her hands lifted to knot in his hair and breathing became rugged. He reached for the hem of her dress and lifted it, so that his hands could touch her beautiful rear and feel her lovely sweet femininity.
The jumper she wore over the gown was scratchy. He wanted to peel it off her but he didn’t dare break their kiss. He needed the spell to stay wrapped around her. He needed her not to think so much and just to feel.
He refused to ask himself why he cared so damned much. Why the idea of leaving her in this tiny apartment in a dangerous part of downtown Rome filled him with a sense of vehement disgust.
He knew only that he wanted her to be safe, and to be happy.
And to be his.
“I love this dress,” he murmured into their kiss, smiling as his fingers pulled her closer towards him.
“It’s not even mine,” the words were garbled; her hands were pushing at his shirt, trying to find the button for his pants. She made a noise of relief when she was able to free him from the constraint. Her fingers wrapped around his length. Her whole body quivered with the promise of what was to come. “Don’t push me away,” she said with desperation.
A part of his brain was hearing the words and understanding the plea behind them. But only a small part.
“I’m pulling you closer,” he demurred, thrusting towards her and groaning as he moved into her precious feminine core. “You’re so tight,” he muttered, his fingers splaying wide on her back as he held her tight, allowing himself to adjust to the way she felt. Her legs lifted to wrap around his waist and he thought, not for the first time, how petite and athletic she was; how easily she could be held by him.
She dug her fingers into his firm, muscular shoulders and pressed her forehead against his chest. “I want this,” she said from between snatched breaths. “How can you …” the words were hard to find. Every nerve ending was pulsing with pleasure and promise. “How can you think … this is … over?” Her nails dug deeper as she felt everything in the world flip out of control. “How can you think … you can walk … away from me … from this.” She moaned at the end of the sentence, low and sweet, as he shifted her with him to the bed.
It creaked as he eased her down, and it complained more loudly still when he brought his weight with her. He laughed crookedly. “This bed is a screamer.”
“Yeah,” she grimaced, but her fingers didn’t let go from around his neck.
“The floor,” he said with a gesture of his head to the cold timber at their feet.
