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Stefano alighted from Bandit, his chestnut mare with the fiery mane. The horse was spirited just like her master. And when they rode, it was if they could read each other’s thoughts. Their ride had been smooth, and Jules had enjoyed watching them.
Stefano glanced her way as though waiting for her to get down. She wasn’t about to budge, not a chance. Not without his help. She didn’t relish the thought of falling on her backside, especially in front of him. She’d never live it down.
He started toward her. “Would you like some help?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
When he stood before her, she leaned over. His hands gripped her waist as though they belonged there. Her fingers pressed to his muscled shoulders. The heat of his body permeated his shirt and warmed her hands. Her gaze met his. Her heart tap-tapped. She felt herself drowning in his bottomless eyes. The breath hitched in her throat as her body slid slowly, agonizingly, down over him.
When they stood chest to chest, there was a distinct unsteadiness in his breath. And then there was a nudge behind her. The horse had given her a healthy shove until her entire body was pressed against Stefano’s unmoving form. In the next instance, his mouth pressed to hers. It was only then that she was willing to admit how much she’d longed for this moment.
His mouth moved passionately over hers as though he was starving for this kiss—for her. Her heart pounded in her chest. And the only thought in her head was the L word. Dare she admit it? How could she not?
She loved Stefano!
When had that happened? She wasn’t sure. But she knew it’d been growing and evolving for a while now. And she couldn’t deny it any longer. She was in love with Stefano DeFiore. Her heart soared as she met his kiss with her own vigor and excitement.
She felt as though she were floating on a fluffy cloud. She didn’t want to mess up this moment. She’d been waiting her whole life for him. Wrapped in his arms, it felt as though anything was possible. And it didn’t matter how steep the climb—she would reach the summit. She could do it.
Before she lost her nerve, she had to tell him. She had to let him know that she loved him with all her heart. Her insides quivered, and she didn’t know if it was the excitement of his kiss or the trepidation of vocalizing the L word—something she hadn’t said since she was a naive kid.
Using every bit of willpower, she braced her hands on his solid chest and pushed. Her mouth tingled, but she resisted the urge to smooth her fingers over the whisker-worn skin. There was a far more important task ahead of her. She hoped he felt the same way about her.
His confused gaze met hers. She couldn’t let him say anything. He’d ruin the moment, and she’d lose her nerve.
“I love you.”
Those three ginormous words hung there. Stefano didn’t move. He didn’t speak. She wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing.
As the silence stretched on, she started to question whether she’d truly uttered the words or just imagined the whole thing.
“Did you hear me?” She didn’t have the courage to repeat the words.
His eyes darkened. He’d heard her. And he wasn’t going to respond the way she’d imagined—the way she’d hoped he would.
His hands fell away from her, setting her free. In fact, it was as though he’d quickly erected a fortress around himself. He didn’t even have to say anything; she already felt the coldness of rejection.
She refused to let him off that easily. She’d never spoken those words to another man in her entire life. He at least owed her an explanation of his feelings. A simple apology because he didn’t feel the same way. Anything but this damnable silence that was about to drive her crazy.
“Say something!” She clenched her fists. “Don’t just ignore me.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m not.”
“Aren’t you going to say anything in response?”
His hands moved to his waist and he stared down at the ground. “I can’t tell you what you think you want to hear.”
Wait. Did he just say what she thought he’d said? She replayed his words in her mind.
“What I think I want you to say. What does that mean?”
He sighed. “You’re a long way from home. Your sister is moving half a globe away from you. And you’re at a crossroads in your life. It’s natural that you’d want to reach out to someone and hold on tight. It would be an easy fix.”
With every word out of his mouth her face warmed, but it wasn’t embarrassment. It was anger. He was diminishing this moment—the first time she’d trusted a man with her heart. And he was shredding it before handing it back to her.
