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‘I can’t.’ Her voice caught. ‘I really can’t. But believe me when I tell you it was the best thing for everyone. I can’t go home, Benedetto. I can’t.’
CHAPTER FIVE
DESPITE HER REPUTATION, Amelia was not prone to dramatic fits but as she said, ‘I can’t’ over and over again, she felt herself growing hysterical, frustrated, terrified of the prospect of being home and having to keep this enormous secret, terrified of what Daniel might do or ask if she returned, terrified that Anton’s wedding would be ruined because of her.
Amelia could hardly breathe.
Benedetto grabbed her other arm, shaking her a little, so she looked up at him, eyes huge.
‘Hey,’ he said firmly. ‘Stop. Stop.’
She was trembling, she realised, and weak. Without his touch, she wasn’t sure she could stay standing.
‘Tell me what’s going on. Is it just that you’re afraid of their reaction? Because I can tell you this: they love you.’ His voice was gravelled. ‘They want you back, more than anything.’
She shook her head, stomach in knots. ‘You don’t understand. I can’t. I can’t.’
And then, perhaps because he saw no other way to silence her, he claimed her mouth with his own, kissing her hard and fast and desperately, absorbing her panic, her anguish, placating her without words or promises to listen and be her champion, but somehow still reassuring her.
Everything inside Amelia shifted. Her hands lifted to his shirt, bunched into it as if holding on for dear life, as if she couldn’t possibly survive without him, as if this kiss and he were her lifelines.
It was all so confusing, so wrong, so right. She whimpered into his mouth, lifted one leg, wrapping her heel behind his knee, then higher, aching to be closer to him, so much closer than this. His kiss grew more urgent, more intense, harder, his tongue lashing hers, his mouth pressing her head back against the wall, until he lifted her, carrying Amelia with her legs wrapped around his waist the rest of the way down the stairs to the door that was locked.
He cursed into her mouth, reached over her shoulder and fumbled the buttons on a keypad; the door swung open. Amelia barely noticed. She was utterly captivated by this moment, by him, by what they were sharing, by how her body was reacting and, most importantly, by the way his kiss was wiping everything else from her mind, so she no longer felt as though she were losing to a rising tide of panic, but surfing along a current of desire that was engulfing her in the best possible way.
Through the door, he strode purposefully to a wide arch and stepped through it. She was conscious of only the surface-level details—a sofa, huge, wide, long, beige in colour, which he laid her down on, barely breaking their kiss for even a moment, his hands pushing at the summery dress she’d pulled on over her bathers while she ate lunch, revealing her near-naked body. She had no self-consciousness around nudity, but this was different. Benedetto stripping her bathers was a whole new level and in the back of her mind she knew she should stop this, slow things down, that they both had reasons for not acting on their attraction, but to hell with it. That kind of rational thought felt just outside Amelia’s grip.
She was terrified about going home but when Benedetto touched her, nothing else mattered. Didn’t she deserve this? Just a little?
‘This is crazy.’ He seemed to echo her thoughts.
‘I know.’
He pushed up onto his elbow, staring down at her, eyes conflicted, lips tense. ‘Amelia—’
‘Don’t stop,’ she pleaded, dropping her hands to his sides and pushing up his shirt, revealing his torso, which she lifted up a little to kiss. He groaned, and the power she had over him was a heady, glorious feeling.
‘This is complicated.’
‘No, it’s simple,’ she murmured, arching her back. ‘I still don’t like you, you know. This is just sex, desire, chemistry, whatever. It doesn’t mean anything. That’s what we both want, isn’t it?’
He looked at her as though she’d spoken in a foreign language. ‘Your brother—’
‘I’m pretty sure neither of us wants to think about Anton right now. But in case you’re worried I’m going to tell him about this, don’t be. It’s not my style to kiss and tell.’
‘Nor mine.’
‘Then?’ she asked, shifting her hips and, this time, removing his shirt fully, throwing it across the room without looking away from Benedetto.
‘We’ll both regret this.’
She lifted her shoulders. ‘Do you want to stop?’
‘What do you think?’
She smiled, her heart lifting. ‘I think this is out of our control and that’s okay.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s not generally my philosophy.’
