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‘What for?’ she asked, with a puzzled frown.
Her artlessness had captivated him right from the start, because it was juxtaposed with that feisty independence... But now it just made the uneasiness settle like a lead weight in his gut. However smart and provocative she was, however ready tostand her ground, however unfazed by his demands, she was vulnerable, and innocent. Because he was the first man who had ever discovered her passion—and exploited it.
But where had the desire come from to be theonlyman ever to exploit it...?
He cut off the thought before it could take root. And forced himself to say what needed to be said. ‘I was kind of rough.’
Her smile became quizzical.
‘Were you?’ she said. She settled back onto the bed, and folded her arms across his chest, then sent him a saucy grin. ‘Well, it was super-hot, so no apology required.’
He let out a strained laugh, trying to see the funny side of it, too. But he couldn’t, quite. Hell, she had no idea who he really was.
Not only did she not know how much he despised her sister’s husband—a man who, for some unknown reason, she appeared to admire—she also didn’t know how easy it had been for him to consider using her when he’d first found out about her connection to Brandon Cade.
He had jettisoned that plan before they’d slept together, but why then did the thought of having to let her go in a week—and return to his business—feel so hard? He’d enjoyed her company, sure, and the incredible chemistry they shared, and her livewire response to all his caresses. He had even loved watching her draw, because of the enthusiasm she threw into her work and the little frown of concentration on her forehead, which was so damn sexy. He’d hated posing for her—especially once he’d got it into his head, as she studied him so intently, she might be able to see more than he wanted her to see—but he’d even been conflicted about that. Because having her focus on him had also made him feel weirdly vindicated.
It was all so confusing. Especially as now he didn’t even have the excuse of being burnt out—because over the past week he’dslept more deeply than he had in years, because she was curled up beside him, so trusting, so content, fitting so perfectly into his arms.
He’d definitely got his mojo back. But he wasn’t looking forward to leaving the island, because it would mean leaving her.
He tried to shake off the melancholy thought, which had started to bother him more and more as the days had gone by. He’d always been a loner, so it made no sense. Especially as he’d gone out of his way not to deepen this relationship, not to let her see more of him.
Until that moment, twenty minutes ago, when she’d looked at him with that captivating combination of innocence and curiosity in her eyes, and questioned him about Cade...
He patted her bottom, desperately trying to make things light, and shallow, again. And get back to the sexy sparring of before, despite the weight pushing on his chest.
‘Okay, go get the sketch, then,’ he said.
She bounced off the bed, gloriously unselfconscious as she retrieved the sketch. She handed him the pad. And snuggled back against his side.
But his fingers tensed as he got his first glimpse of her work. He stared, the weight dropping into his stomach like a stone.
How had she captured him so perfectly? He could see the tension in his muscles, the struggle to remain aloof and indifferent in the stiff lines of his body. But what stunned him even more was how she had captured the wariness in his eyes. Because in that expression, he didn’t see the man he had worked so hard to become. The confident, arrogant, cynical playboy... Instead, he saw the guarded, needy, resentful boy he’d left behind long ago. The little bastard who had changed his name and worked his backside off for years, taking insane risks tomake his mark—and best the half-brother who had made it clear, the one time he’d met him, he didn’t even care he existed.
The blip in his heart rate soared.
‘What do you think?’ she asked softly.
She was watching him intently, but the caution in her eyes told him his opinion mattered, and, strangely, he couldn’t find the strength to lie.
‘It’s good, but it’s not what I expected,’ he murmured.
‘How so?’ she asked, the compassionate expression disturbing him even more.
How could she see that kid? When he’d kept him hidden so successfully, for so long?
He flipped the cover over the sketchbook, dropped it on the bed. ‘It’s just... It’s weird, it’s like you can see who I was, not who I am now. I’m not sure I like it. Because that kid is long gone.’ He’d made sure of it. ‘And good riddance.’
What was he so afraid of? Even if she had seen who he was, she couldn’t make him go back there, couldn’t resurrect that angry boy.
He rolled over, trapping her beneath him, letting her feel the hard length. Wanting her to know this could never be about anything other than sex. Because she wouldn’t want that boy, no one had.
But her curious, compassionate smile didn’t falter.
‘Who were you?’ she asked. ‘And why do you dislike that boy so much?’
He could have deflected the question, could have simply refused to answer it. After all, he’d never had a problem avoiding questions he didn’t want to answer before. But something she’d said about her own childhood had niggled at him all week. And he couldn’t shake the strange conviction she would understand that boy. And forgive him, in a way Roman had never been able to.
