‘But why, Alexandra, should I make you nervous? I am just a man. A man who, after all, you know—intimately.’
Something about the way he spoke made her look at him—really look at him. Why was he doing this to her? She willed her body not to be carried away by his touch, but that same body seemed intent on ignoring her. After all, this was just what she’d dreamed of, night after lonely night—being with Nick, enjoying his touch. Now her dreams had become reality, at least in part, and it was so hard to deny herself that for which she’d yearned so long.
Only she had to. Her lips felt desperate for moisture as she finally spoke.
‘That was a long time ago. It’s ancient history now.’
‘Maybe. But sometimes the past can pave the way for the future. We were once good together. Is there any reason why we shouldn’t be again—at least until I leave?’
‘What?’
She dropped a shoulder and twisted out of his reach before he could react.
For just one moment his words had brought her an unexpected pleasure. For just one moment it had seemed he might still harbour some feelings for her.
In the next moment he’d shattered the illusion. ‘Just what are you suggesting?’
He shrugged and leaned himself back against the cupboards, crossing his ankles, his hands resting on the bench behind. The relaxed position belied the expression on his face. His jaw was set and his eyes looked more calculating than ever.
‘Simply that we fit together well—you know that. Why shouldn’t we seek pleasure in each other? There’s little enough to be found elsewhere in this world.’
‘You expect me to sleep with you while you’re here?’
He looked over at her, his lips tilted at one corner, his dark eyes resolute as he pushed himself away from the bench and took two paces towards her.
Instinctively her feet edged back.
‘No, Alexandra. You have the wrong idea entirely. I don’t expect you to sleep with me. I want you awake, very much awake. I don’t expect we should get very much sleep at all.’
Alex could only swallow as he moved a step closer, and then another, forcing her back against the small under-counter refrigerator. Only then did he stop—right in front of her.
‘After all,’ he continued, ‘it’s not as if you are a virgin, as I can attest. You’re not married, and you’ve obviously had other partners. Sofia told me of your child. You expect me to believe that was the result of immaculate conception?’
Hot, angry tears pricked her eyes. Even if he didn’t know that the child he referred to was his, there was no excuse for speaking to her that way. ‘And that makes it okay, then, does it? I should be only too willing to fall into your bed?’
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