grimly, he followed her out onto the dance floor where the writhing crowds would surely allow them both to keep their distance.
Natalia regretted taking Ben to the club as soon as they walked through the doors. The lights, the music, the noise—all of it was awful, and even though she’d been here a dozen times, she didn’t want to be here with Ben. A place like this would only reinforce the unflattering assumptions he’d made about her. And really, Natalia thought as she turned to smile at him on the dance floor, she wanted to be alone with him, not hemmed in by a sweaty and indifferent crowd.
It surprised and even touched her that Ben had gone along with all of her plans today, that he was dancing even now, and she saw, he was actually a very good dancer. She would have expected a man like him—business-minded, focused and controlled—to move stiffly on the dance floor, or if she were honest, to sit on a bar stool and scroll through his emails on his BlackBerry.
But Ben moved with arrogant grace, his eyes glinting as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, Which he probably did. The man possessed an uncanny ability to read her mind. Know her heart.
Swallowing, Natalia looked away. Even amidst the safety of a crowd, she felt this magnetic pull, this insane craving to pull him closer, to lose herself in him. And if she did that … what would be left?
A few minutes after they started dancing the music suddenly changed to a low, lazy tune that had everyone pulling partners close. Natalia hesitated, half-wanting to run off the dance floor rather than face the fierce temptation of slow dancing with Ben. Or what if he walked off the floor first? He may have wanted to kiss her on a bet, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dance with her. Be with her.
But already he was pulling her towards him, his hands firm on her hips, fingers splayed along her backside as he nestled her close against him. His lips brushed her hair as her arms twined round his neck almost of their own accord, so desperate was she for this contact. This closeness.
Natalia was barely aware of the music as she felt Ben’s body against her own: his thigh against her hip, the evidence of his arousal pressing into her middle, his jaw almost touching her lips. Her body felt as if it were buzzing with awareness, pulsing with need. She pulled him closer, let her lips brush the stubble on his jaw, inhaled the clean, male scent of him as her senses swam and she heard—and felt—Ben shudder in response.
It felt so natural, so obvious to angle her head for the kiss they’d denied themselves all day. The kiss they surely both craved. Natalia’s lips parted and Ben’s mouth hovered above her own as she waited, aching, her whole body crying out for him to touch her.
‘It could be a draw,’ she whispered, her mouth so close to his they were almost—almost—kissing anyway. Her fingers curled round his shoulders as she swayed, not to the music, but from the desire flooding through her in a relentless river, sweeping her senses along with it. ‘We both control the kiss,’ she clarified huskily. She felt Ben’s hands tighten on her hips, his fingers so strong and sure. ‘We both win.’
She saw his lips curve in an answering smile, felt him pull her even closer, her breasts pressed against his chest, but he didn’t bend his head. Didn’t kiss her. Natalia flicked her gaze upwards, and although he was still smiling—a little—she saw the struggle in his eyes. The frustration, and maybe even the anger. Or was it despair?
Whatever stormy emotion battled in his eyes, it was one Natalia wished she hadn’t seen. Wished Ben didn’t feel.
He didn’t want to kiss her.
Oh, he wanted her all right, wanted her perhaps as desperately as she wanted him. But he didn’t want to want her, and that thought made sudden tears sting her eyes. With effort, despite the desire still coursing treacherously through her, she made herself pull away from him and walked off the dance floor.
Ben felt Natalia slip away from him and he cursed under his breath. He’d been so close to kissing her. So close to giving in, letting himself be swept away like he never had before. He knew, instinctively, elementally, that kissing Natalia would be like that. Kissing Natalia would change him, and he didn’t want to be changed.
He should be relieved she’d broken it before he did, but he wasn’t. He was annoyed and disappointed and incredibly sexually frustrated. Raking a hand through his hair, he followed her off the dance floor, searching the crowds for her familiar lithe frame.
He found her by the coat check, slipping on her snug little jacket. ‘Is the fun over, then?’ he asked lightly, and she didn’t look at him as she answered.
‘It most certainly is.’
Ben felt a flicker of guilty regret along with every other emotion twisting inside him and frying his brain. Why did this woman make him feel so much? He wasn’t used to it. Didn’t like it. Couldn’t have it.
Yet he knew in that moment on the dance floor he’d hurt her somehow. Maybe she’d sensed his reluctance. Maybe—and this thought actually frightened him—she understood him better than he thought.
Neither of them spoke as Ben opened the passenger door for her, and then slid into the driver’s seat. He thought about explaining, or apologizing, or something, but his thoughts were too tangled up inside him to separate, much less speak.
As the gate of the palazzo swung smoothly open and he drove up to the front of the magnificent building, he decided silence was better. Surely saying anything—explaining anything—would just drag them in deeper to this mess they’d found themselves in.
This mess of emotion and desire and need that Ben had never let himself feel before. The kind of mess his father made, and his mother endured. The kind of mess he never wanted for himself.
‘Well.’ Natalia cleared her throat, then shot him a cool smile. ‘What can I say? It was fun.’
Ben nodded tersely. ‘See you on the football pitch,’ he said and for a second something flashed in her eyes, something Ben suspected was hurt, or perhaps sorrow. Her smile suddenly seemed brittle.
‘See you then,’ she said, and slipped out of the car.
NATALIA blinked in the bright sunlight of Santina’s football stadium and smoothed her hands down the sides of her baggy shorts. She felt ridiculously sloppy wearing what felt like a school PE kit, but Ben had been insistent that she dress appropriately for the first day of camp.
‘And,’ he’d told her, his mouth quirking upwards in that way she now recognised, ‘that does not mean a miniskirt and stilettos.’
She would have felt better in a skirt, Natalia thought with a flicker of resentment. Safer and stronger. Fashion was one thing she got, one small way she felt successful.
‘Ready to really work?’ Ben asked, jogging up to her. He wore the same thing she did, and yet somehow it looked amazing on him. The T-shirt clung to the six-pack abs hiding under the thin fabric, and he wore his shorts slung low on his hips. Natalia could see his strong, muscular thighs and calves and she jerked her gaze upwards. She did not need any reminders of how his body had felt against hers; she’d been remembering all weekend. Yet clearly Ben was back to professional mode today, and if she hadn’t experienced it herself, she wouldn’t have believed he’d held her so close, he’d almost kissed her.
Almost.
‘Are you saying I haven’t been working already?’ she enquired. ‘Because I think a thousand envelopes would disagree.’
‘Today you’re going to really work. And get tired and muddy and sweaty.’ Natalia wrinkled her nose, and Ben grinned, so obviously enjoying this. ‘Come on, Princess. Let’s get going. The kids are about to arrive.’ And without any warning he tossed her a football. Natalia caught it out of instinct, but she heard the distinct sound of a nail breaking and with a little yelp