of his leg against hers, the warmth in his eyes, the soft sound of his laughter wrapping round her and making her ache because it was so nearly over.
And then at last it came to an end; they’d finished their food, dragged their coffee out indefinitely, and their conversation had finally run dry. The day was officially done.
He set his napkin on the table and smiled wryly. ‘Shall we make a move?’ he suggested, and she felt a surge of regret.
He held out his hand to her, and after the tiniest hesitation, Isabelle put hers in it and stood up, desperately trying to ignore the sensation that raced up her arm. Her leg was still burning from the heat of his body, and when he’d stood up and moved away, she’d felt the loss of his warmth like an arctic blast. Crazy. He was just a man, just an ordinary man.
No. That was a lie, and she’d never been dishonest with herself. He was gorgeous—witty, intelligent, disarmingly frank, and his body, tall and powerfully built, with those midnight-dark eyes, made her go weak at the knees. His hair was slightly rumpled from the wind; she wanted to touch it, to thread her fingers through it and test the texture, and then draw her hand slowly over his jaw, letting the rasp of stubble graze her palm.
His lips, so firm, so full, made her ache to feel them. On her lips, but also on her cheeks, her eyelids, her throat, her breasts. Everywhere.
Relax, bella. I won’t eat you.
Oh, lord! She looked away, dragging her eyes off him and bending to pick up her bag from the floor while she gathered her composure.
‘I need the Ladies’,’ she said.
‘Good idea, I’ll meet you back here,’ he said, and she made her way into the sanctuary of the quiet room with relief.
What was happening to her? She never reacted like this to men! Never in a million years. Or twenty-eight, more to the point. Over a quarter of a century, and no man had ever made her heart beat fast or her skin heat or her body ache with a longing so intense it almost frightened her.
But Luca did. Luca made her body sing with joy at the slightest touch, and when she rejoined him and he rested his hand lightly against her spine to usher her out into the street, she could have been naked the effect on her was so powerful. It was as if he’d touched her intimately, found her secret places and stroked them with the slow, sure hand of a lover.
And now she was being ridiculous! He was just killing time after his interview, indulging in a little mild flirtation, and she’d do well to remember it. It was nothing personal, he was just exercising his natural charm, and there was certainly nothing intimate, for heaven’s sake! And even if there was, nothing was going to come of it. She was only here for one more night, flying out in less than eight hours! She’d never had a one-night stand in her life, and she wasn’t starting now. But she wished there was more time…
‘Where’s your hotel?’ he asked, and she told him.
‘That’s good, it’s just near here.’
He tucked her hand into his arm again, his smile gleaming white against his olive skin in the darkness, and she caught the faint tang of his aftershave and that warm, male scent that was becoming so familiar—the scent that was also drifting up to her from the scarf, snuggled so softly and intimately against her skin, almost as if he was holding her.
She shivered, and he shot her a quick glance. ‘OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied, but she wasn’t, because it was the end of their time together and she wasn’t sure she’d survive if he simply took her back to her hotel and dropped her off, whatever her scruples, because for some reason this night—no, this man—was different, and if he asked her…
Luca paused outside the entrance, staring down thoughtfully into her eyes, and she reached up and kissed his cheek, her warm breath whispering over his skin and setting it alight. ‘Thank you for the most lovely day. You’ve been so kind, Luca.’
He didn’t feel kind. He felt on fire, more alive than he had in years, and extraordinary reluctant to let her go, but there was no way…
‘What time’s your flight tomorrow morning?’
‘I have to be at the airport at five.’
He hesitated, not sure what was happening to him, just knowing he couldn’t walk away. Not from this, because this—this was different, and he’d deal with the consequences later.
‘It doesn’t have to end here,’ he said softly, and waited, his breath lodged in his throat, for her reply.
Isabelle’s heart was pounding now, because this was something she didn’t do. Never. She felt she was on the brink of a precipice—or at the gateway to a whole new era.
‘I don’t do this,’ she said in a whisper, but he heard and he laughed under his breath.
‘Nor do I.’
‘I—I can’t get involved.’
‘That’s OK.’
‘So—just tonight?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Si. Just tonight, cara. If that’s what you want.’
Why not? she thought. It had been years now. She was too fussy to sleep with anyone just for the sake of it, not desperate enough to settle for mediocrity, and she was alone by choice.
But Luca—Luca did something to her that no man had ever done. He made her heart race, her blood heat, her body throb with need. There was absolutely nothing mediocre about him.
If she walked away from him now, she’d never know what it would have been like to make love with the most interesting and attractive man she’d ever met in her life. A man she could so easily, under other circumstances, have come to love.
And maybe it was time to let herself live again—if only for one night. Taking her courage in both hands, she met his eyes. ‘Your place or mine?’ she asked.
He let out his breath in a rough, choppy sigh, then his lips twisted into a wry little smile. ‘Yours is closer.’
Her heart nearly stopped, then started again with a vengeance as he took her hand and led her into the hotel. She picked up her key at the desk, her heart pounding, and they went up to her room in a taut, breathless silence, their fingers tightly meshed.
They’d hardly made it through the door before he reached for her, his mouth finding hers in a kiss she felt she’d been waiting for all her life. She dropped her bag on the floor, and somehow he peeled away her coat and his scarf that she was still wearing, and then his hands slid up and cradled her breasts and he gave a deep, guttural groan that turned her legs to jelly.
She whimpered, and as if it was what he’d been waiting for, he stripped the sweater off over her head, muttering incoherently as he pressed her back against the wall, his mouth on hers, his hands moulding her breasts again. His chest was heaving as she grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged it open, pinging buttons off in all directions and whimpering in frustration because she couldn’t get it down over his shoulders with his arms bent and his hands doing such incredible things to her nipples.
She gave up with the shirt, her hands moving to his waistband, and then he dragged his mouth away and dropped his forehead against hers, his hands catching hers and stopping their frenzied fumbling. ‘Wait,’ he growled, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs. ‘This is crazy. It’s too fast.’
Crazy? Too fast? Maybe, but when he stepped away and released her, she felt a huge sense of loss. She didn’t want to be away from him, not for a moment—but apparently that wasn’t what he had in mind.
He stared at her, his eyes on fire, and shook his head slowly, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek with incredible tenderness, and she could feel that it was shaking. ‘If we go on like this, it’ll all be over in seconds,’ he murmured roughly, ‘and I don’t want seconds, Isabella. I want hours. I want to take my time—savour every moment of this night. Touch you all over.