by Dani Collins
This one was prickly and wary and someone he should not trust. Nevertheless, she invoked a rueful remorse in him with her tart, “normal amount.” He wished it was none.
He gathered her up and rolled so she was beside him on the bed, all elbows and resistant stiffness. She made a face and lifted her head off the pillow. “It’s wet.”
He threw it away and dragged a dry one into its place. Then he watched her try to avoid his gaze, expression grumpy. She wasn’t trying to get away, but she didn’t relax.
“I didn’t believe you,” he admitted, suspecting that was the real source of her desire to flee. “You’re very sensual. That wasn’t your first orgasm in the tub.”
“Oh, please. I know how my own body works.” She rolled her eyes.
“And now I do.” He let that sink in, watching the pink that deepened in her cheeks beneath the fan of her lashes. “Does that bother you?”
“Yes. I get the feeling you’ve made a study of how to get that sort of reaction from women, and I’m just the latest specimen you’ve collected.”
Nice. “So you regret giving me your virginity.”
“A little.” She reached to touch a button on the headboard. Sighed as she dropped her arm back to her side. “You already have all the advantages. Now you have this to lord over me, too.”
“Why give it to me, then?” It was the other question sizzling in his brain.
Her mouth twisted. “I wanted to. I’ve never had much personal choice, so I take it where I find it.”
He caressed her jaw, gently taking hold of it, feeling her tense, but he wanted to see into her eyes. They were brimming with anxiety. Defenselessness.
He stroked the backs of his knuckles into the warm flesh beneath her jaw and below, down her throat, enjoying the way she shivered and softened. The response of this woman. She made him feel like a god. He wanted to strip her naked and bury himself inside her all over again, just to reach that level of supreme euphoria.
But she was so new to this, she didn’t see how much power she had over him, which was a good thing.
He kissed her. Just long enough to find her response. To reassure himself it was there and, yes, maybe to reinforce his power over her. His hand was still on her neck, and he felt the throb of her pulse and the vibration of her helpless sob as it emanated.
He lifted his head and she ducked her chin. “What about you? Regret?”
“Yes.”
Her breath rushed out and her eyes filled, stunned with injury. He touched her swollen mouth with his thumb, and she drew her lips in so the pad of his thumb rested on a flat line.
“I don’t sleep with employees or anyone else with whom I have other types of relationships,” he explained. “I prefer to compartmentalize. Keep lines drawn so feelings don’t color facts.”
She withdrew from his touch completely, sliding backward across the mattress. “And what you feel for me is hatred, isn’t it? It bothers me that I made love with someone who hates me.”
His chest tightened. Hatred was a damned slippery fish to hang on to right now.
Her lashes dropped and the corners of her mouth were heavy. “Maybe I deserve it, since it’s my fault my father stole from you, but it still hurts.” Her subdued voice held a lot of pain. “I said I’d do anything to get rid of that cloud over me, but I don’t think this did anything except scrape away what little respect you might have had for me. So now I’m embarrassed and would prefer to leave.”
“That option is not on the table.”
“Why? I said I was a virgin and I was. Doesn’t that earn a shred of trust?”
He couldn’t let her go. That was the bald truth.
“Until I unravel this Benito mystery, I can’t let my guard down with you.” He knew that much, but he also knew he already had. “It will take some time for the bank to investigate, so you’ll stay with me until we have some answers.”
“With you. Here. In your bed.” Her voice thinned to something that might have been resentment, but held an echo of longing, too. “Doing what? Paying off Dad’s debt? How much did my virginity knock off the total, anyway? I’m such a terrible negotiator. I should have asked before.”
She was throwing darts because she was hurt that he still mistrusted her. Her words still managed to get under his skin. “Do you want to put the past behind us or not?”
He meant that her snippy attitude wasn’t helping, but she only railed on in the same vein.
“Let me guess. You’ll also leave my brother alone if I sleep with you?”
“Sure.” He had no intention of going after her brother. It was easy to agree.
Her eyes narrowed. “Exactly how many payments are you expecting?”
“We’ll make love ‘the normal amount,’” he quoted her pithily, through a smile that was more clenched teeth and growing ire. “But I won’t make demands right now, if you’re feeling delicate. Or salty.”
“Oh, no,” she said with a hot crackle in her tone. “If I’m going to get this debt off my back on my back, let’s make sure I get it done.”
“You really think you can shame me, you hellion?” He tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her pinned for gentle, gentle kisses. He teased and tantalized both of them until she was clinging to his lips with her own, moaning in frustration because his hand in her hair wouldn’t allow her to lift her head and increase the pressure.
Her hands moved with agitation across his back, one snaking to try to take hold of his reviving shaft, but he caught both her wrists in one hand above her head. He used his free hand to caress her breast, taking his time to really appreciate the shape of her, the heat he could discern even through the knit of her pullover, the dainty circle of her areola and the exquisitely sensitive peak that jabbed beneath his thumb pad, making her breaths grow ragged.
She wriggled and made another noise of growing ardor, lifting her mound into the weight of his thigh where he pinned her hips to the bed.
“Dante,” she gasped.
“I’m not a monster, bedduzza.” He moved his hand to skim back and forth across her waist, stealing inch by inch beneath her pullover, feeling her tense stomach quiver and jump beneath his tickling caress. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”
She made a tortured noise. “You’ll make me want it anyway. Won’t you?”
He found her braless breast and cupped the underside. She arched, trying to fill his palm. Her nipple stood like a shard of glass beneath the fabric of her top. They both ached for him to bare and lick and suck that taut tip, but he held off, nearly blind with desire. “If you really want to earn my trust, Cami, you have to be honest about what you want right now.”
Her breath exhaled on a trembling hiss. “You,” she confessed.
He gave her what she asked for.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAMI WOKE ALONE. As she sat up, she breathed out a low, wincing breath. She was so sore. The jet tub might have forestalled some of the stiffness from skiing, but just as she hadn’t let a few aches and pains hold her back from enjoying the slopes, she hadn’t let it slow her down with Dante, either.
She buried her face in her hands, appalled. The man really did have an extraordinary libido, and apparently so did she.
Now she was paying for that physical activity. With a little whimper, she made her way into the shower, feeling only marginally better when she dried herself with aching arms. Her nipples were incredibly sensitive and even brushing her teeth was a tender exercise, making her look for bruising around her mouth. Her lips were chapped, but what had that man done to the rest of her? At no point had he been brutal, but he had been thorough.
And she’d loved it.
She was a sex fiend!
It was embarrassing, but as she thought of the way they’d come together again and again, the way his hands had felt on her body—his mouth... She was aroused all over again. Yearning and wanting another clash of flesh to flesh.
She clenched her eyes against her reflection, aghast by
the longing that overcame her, fresh and sharp. Glancing at the closed door of the bathroom, she wondered if he was still in the suite.
Be honest about what you want.
What did she want? Romantic love was not something she had been able to afford, quite literally. After losing their parents, her brother had been her world. Mentally, she’d felt miles ahead of men her age, and the few who had bought her coffee or a plate of pasta had been quickly scared off by her financial situation and depth of responsibility.
She had tucked away dreams of finding her soul mate like a pressed flower in a book, rarely remembered and even more seldom examined.
Dante was not her soul mate. He was her instrument of sexual awakening, but all she could expect from this relationship was maybe some sort of closure between them on her father’s debt, one way or another.
That stupid debt! She glanced at the time and realized the bank would be open soon. She dried her hair, then dressed in jeans and a snug, waffle-knit shirt.
“Dante?” she called from the top of the stairs.
Silence.
She limped down to the main floor and had a very cursory look for a note—and painkillers—but found neither. He hadn’t texted either, but he’d left a key card. At least she wouldn’t be locked out if she ran to the lobby. Her leg throbbed like it was newly broken. She really needed something.
Ugh. She didn’t want to be the first to text. What should she say? I’m up? Where are you? Far too needy.
She was in the elevator before she settled on her message.
Do you want to meet me at the bank?
He responded promptly.
We’ll go together. Wait for me.
The reply pinged into her phone as she made her way across the lobby toward the gift shop. How long would that be? she wondered.
In the same moment, she felt a prickle of awareness, like the sun came out and found every inch of her naked skin.
A soft, aged voice said, “Cami!”
With her head bent over her phone, she had nearly walked right past Dante, Bernadetta and another couple, all sitting in the casual dining lounge where the buffet breakfast was served, finishing their coffee. She was separated from them by a row of ferns.
As Cami took a startled inventory, her gaze tangled with Dante’s. All the wicked things they’d done to each other cascaded through her mind’s eye, turning the middle of her chest into a furnace that radiated heat through the rest of her.
He looked like their intimacy was the furthest thing from his own mind, staring at her with a flat, hostile stare that silently conveyed, I told you to wait for me.
The sweet excitement of seeing him again drained away before it had fully formed, leaving her hollowed out by his disapproval.
“Dante said you decided to stay in Whistler and wouldn’t be coming to Vancouver with us. He didn’t say you were staying at our hotel.” Bernadetta looked questioningly to her grandson.
He took a sip of his coffee, which struck her as buying time.
Cami’s blush turned to one of indignation, then scorn, as it impacted her that he was having breakfast with his relatives and not only hadn’t invited her, he didn’t want them knowing she’d spent the night with him.
“I’m staying with a friend,” she provided, turning her attention to Bernadetta, even though she suspected Dante would consider her words a lie. They weren’t “friends.”
The old woman introduced her niece and husband. “Cami is the young woman who was so kind to me the other day.”
Cami brushed that aside, saying, “I’m glad I could help, and it’s very nice to meet you. Thank you again for the day of skiing, but I’m sorry. I’m on an errand. Safe travels.” She leaned to return Bernadetta’s light embrace and got the hell out of Dodge, so humiliated she could hardly bear it.
* * *
Dante caught up to Cami at the gift shop cash register, about to pay for a bottle of extra-strength headache caplets. She looked spectacular in curve-hugging jeans. The legs were tucked into her tall boots, accentuating the slender thighs that had hugged his hips last night while she gasped and moaned beneath him.
Her hair, that cloud of silk that had erotically grazed his skin and imprinted the scent of almonds and crushed flowers in his psyche, fell in shiny waves down her spine, drawing his eye to how narrow and delicate her shoulders were.
Leaving her this morning had been a struggle. It took everything in him now not to set possessive hands on her hips and draw her into his front, so he could shape her breasts as he molded her back into his frame.
He was obsessed, which was exactly why he’d made himself sit with his cousin and grandmother when his mind had been several floors up, making love to Cami all over again.
Yanking his libido to heel, he took over her purchase, signing it to his room.
“What are you doing?” she asked stiffly.
“What are you doing? You could have asked the concierge to deliver these.”
“Hardly.” She pried open the cap as they walked out of the shop.
“What do you mean?”
“Hotel staff are run off their feet. I’m not going to play prima donna and ask for something I can get for myself.” She glanced toward the dining lounge. “Where’s Bernadetta?”
“They’ve left.”
She detoured into the buffet and helped herself to a glass of water, washing down two tablets, before dropping the medicine into her handbag.
“Would you like breakfast?”
“Bit late for that invitation, isn’t it? No, thanks,” she pronounced with disdain. “I’m going to the bank.”
“The phone didn’t wake you,” he pointed out. “You seemed to need the sleep.” He could have used another two or three hours himself. They’d bordered on debauchery. Every single minute had been fantastic.
“You didn’t ask me to join you once you knew I was up. In fact, you were horrified that I happened by. Sorry to be such an embarrassment.” Her heels clipped loudly across the tiles.
“Quit being so dramatic.” He paced alongside her. “It was the opposite. Noni is so smitten with you, she didn’t stop talking you up over breakfast. She wants me to continue seeing you.”
“So then why—? Oh.” She halted as they exited to the covered portico.
He handed his ticket to the valet, then pushed his hands into his pockets. Judging by the way Cami paled and stared stiffly ahead, she was connecting the dots.
“You don’t want her to think we have a future,” she summed up after several long, fuming minutes. “Because we don’t.”
“She’s very anxious to see me married,” he confirmed. “But I have no desire to tie myself down. It’s not personal.”
“I’m sure,” she muttered, stepping forward as his vehicle came to the curb.
He didn’t owe her explanations, but spoke once he was behind the wheel, pulling away. “I’ve never met a woman I trust enough to even consider marrying her. I can’t bring myself to risk the family fortune again.”
“It’s one bludgeon after another with you, isn’t it? Now it’s my fault you can’t fall in love and marry? My father’s betrayal means you can’t make your grandmother happy and produce an heir for everything her husband built? I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry I ever wanted something as useless as a gold medal. Turn left at the next light.”
He signaled and changed lanes. “I didn’t say it was your fault.”
“You implied it.” She stared out her side window, but swung her head around a moment later. “And somehow, I’m supposed to be so good in bed that you get over that? Exactly how many orgasms will it take to open your heart enough that your one true love can walk in?”
“I don’t know, Cami. How many until you quit acting like a martyr? Is this your bank?” He recognized the logo from the bank transfer she had shown him that first night.
“Yes. And what is that supposed to mean? I’m not being a martyr!”
“People are allowed to want things for themselves
.” He swung into a parking space. “I wanted to be on the cutting edge of a new technology. That doesn’t make me a bad person who deserved to have his work stolen. You keep acting like wanting to ski competitively is a crime. No. It’s just a dream, and people are entitled to go after their dreams. You think I don’t respect you, but I’ll tell you something. The way you skied yesterday was badass. It takes guts to send yourself down the side of a mountain at those speeds. Quit apologizing for being good at it. For liking it and wanting to prove how good you were.”
She flinched at the word were.
“You do blame me, though.” Her fingers picked at the stitching on her handbag. “You fired me.”
“I did. But how I let the past affect me is my choice.” Not that he’d consciously faced that before it came out of his mouth. He’d let Stephen’s betrayal eat away at him, only becoming aware of how destructive it was since meeting her. “Your desire to ski didn’t make me the way I am. You’re not that powerful,” he concluded dryly.
She was powerful enough to have him reassessing his reaction to her father’s theft, though. He absorbed that while watching her thumb work against the stitching of her bag.
“I just really miss them,” she said in a very small voice. “I know it’s backward logic, but if I believe that making a wrong decision can cause someone’s death, then making the right choices will keep others alive. Like Reeve. I don’t want to believe death is just random bad luck. If that’s how things work, how could I stop it from happening again? I don’t want to be that powerless.”
He sighed and reached to cover her hand, stilling her twitching fingers and weaving his between them. “It is a terrifying fact that life is nothing but shaken dice.” He hated that particular reality himself.
“Thanks,” she muttered, extricating her fingers and reaching for her door.
He felt the loss, the sense of having disappointed her, acutely. His reaching out in comfort, offering a hand-holding, had been the least sexual, yet most intimate act he’d ever shared with a woman.
And she’d rejected it.
* * *