‘Look at me.’
I want you to see me when I make love to you. I want you to look in my eyes and see how I want you.
She saw it now as his eyes blazed into hers, filled with a desire that was elemental, consuming them both in its wondrous flames.
He never stopped looking at her, possessing with his eyes as well as his body, as the pressure and pleasure built to a glorious crescendo.
She cried out, and he captured her mouth with his own as she shattered, just as he had predicted she would, into a thousand sense-scattering pieces.
And then he put her back together again, cradling her as they lay there, still, sated, their breathing ragged.
I love you.
It came unbidden, helpless. Hopeless. Meghan closed her eyes, her cheek pressed against his chest, the tang of his sweat still on her lips.
I love you.
Why? When? How?
She didn’t know when it had happened. Perhaps when she had first looked into his eyes at the trattoria, and her soul had recognised someone who knew her. Knew her completely and understood. Believed.
Perhaps it had happened later, when he’d opened her heart and mind to the possibility of trust, of desire without shame, need without fear.
Perhaps it had happened just now, when he’d undone her— known her—completely.
She just knew it was true.
She loved him—loved his tenderness, his teasing smile, his ability to give himself so completely. Loved him despite the darkness, the despair that he hid, the secrets she knew he kept, the pain she knew he would cause her.
She loved him.
And it was the last thing Alessandro wanted.
Alessandro listened as Meghan’s breathing slowed, her breath feathering his chest. She was asleep.
He relaxed his arm around her, shifting to get more comfortable.
Except nothing could make him comfortable. Nothing could ease the guilt that ate at him, worse than any disease.
She doesn’t know what kind of man I am.
He’d never realised how much she’d been through. Endured. His hand curled into a fist as he thought of what Meghan had been through, of the man who had abused her precious trust, her beautiful body.
He looked forward to going back to that hypocritical little town and wiping that man’s face in the dirt.
Yet what help was that? He was the hypocrite; he was surely only going to cause her more suffering. He wouldn’t be able to help it.
When she discovered his past …
When she learned who he really was …
What he was capable of. What he had done.
Then she would hate him. Affection would turn to disgust, love to hatred.
For he knew she would fall in love with him some time. It was in her nature, warm and generous.
No, he didn’t want her to love him. Couldn’t let it happen. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it when it stopped.
And it would stop. Because he couldn’t change. He couldn’t be that man.
He couldn’t be saved.
If only it were as simple as it had been for Meghan. Banishing the shadows and accepting forgiveness, love.
There was no such easy answer for him. People loved until you disappointed them. He’d seen it, lived it before. The moment you showed you were weak, needy, in pain or trouble, they left.
They fobbed you off on someone else. They turned away. They pretended they didn’t know you.
And who could blame them?
He couldn’t stand for that to happen to Meghan. Better for her not to love him at all.
The only way to keep her from falling in love with him, Alessandro knew, was to show her glimpses of the man he truly was.
Not enough to make her leave, but enough to make her wary.
He only prayed that he wouldn’t hurt her too much … and that she would stay. It would be a fine line.
Because he didn’t know what he would do if she left.
His arm tightened around her again instinctively, and she stirred in her sleep.
Glimpses, he reminded himself, his lips twisting in a savage smile. Glimpses would be enough.
CHAPTER TEN
MEGHAN awoke to an empty bed. For a moment she felt the familiar lurch of fear, then she forced herself to shrug it off.
There were no more shadows. For her.
Alessandro came into the room, showered, dressed, and bearing a tray with coffee and rolls.
‘I thought you might be hungry.’
‘Starving.’
His smile was knowing, seductive, and Meghan found herself grinning. She bit lustily into a roll as Alessandro took a cup of coffee and stretched out beside her.
‘I thought today we could look for a place to live.’
‘What about your flat?’
‘It is a small place, sterile—a bachelor’s pad, as they say. You would hate it.’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Meghan protested. ‘We could buy some flowers, some pictures—’
‘No, no.’ He was firm in his dismissal. ‘It needs much more than that. It is simply not suitable. We can look for a place together—a home to start our new lives in?’
‘If that’s what you want,’ Meghan said, a bit unsteadily. It sounded idyllic. Perfect. And far too good to be true. Like a dream they were weaving, something set apart. Unreal.
‘That’s what I want,’ Alessandro replied. ‘I need to make a few phone calls. I’ll leave you to get dressed.’
He left the bedroom and Meghan leaned back against the pillows, her mind buzzing happily with new thoughts, new dreams.
Half an hour later they were in Alessandro’s car, cruising the streets of Milan.
Meghan gazed in wonder at the ancient buildings coupled with the modern glamour. This was Alessandro’s city, she thought, as he navigated the traffic with expert and uncomplicated ease.
He belonged here, among the rich and powerful. And now she was part of that too. Yet somehow the prospect of power had lost its allure.
Wealth, security—even safety—they all seemed useless without love.
Meghan’s mouth twisted grimly. Too bad, she thought. That was how it was. For now.
‘Do you have a destination in mind?’ she asked, and Alessandro gave her a fleeting smile.
‘Wait and see…’
He turned the car into a narrow street which opened onto a square, not as impressive as at his mother’s residence, but filled with sunlight.
Children played on the green, and the town houses that fronted it looked well cared for. Loved.
‘This looks nice,’ Meghan offered cautiously, for it wasn’t the sort of place she’d imagined Alessandro in. It looked like a place for families—a