Her Last Night of Innocence by India Grey

ways he avoided giving anything away about himself. It meant nothing. To him, anyway. To her it had obviously been significant enough for her to think he was worthy of her virginity.
    He rubbed a hand over his face, pressing his fingers into his temple as if he could somehow erase the realisation of what he’d been. Often in the hospital he’d thought that the accident was a punishment for the suffering he’d put his mother through, but now it seemed just as likely to be some kind of divine retribution for the way he’d used people.
    Women. So many of them that their beautiful faces, their willing bodies, blurred into one. Too many to remember.
    Caro Dio, the irony.
    Reaching for one of the towels that was folded on the chair beside the bed he got up, wrapping it around his hips as he walked towards her. Suddenly he didn’t want to hear any more.
    ‘Kate…’
    She lifted her head slightly, meeting his gaze with an expressionon her face that was almost defiant. ‘It helped,’ she said simply. ‘To admit how scared I was—how scared I’d always been, of so many things. You told me that a life lived in fear is no life at all.’
    Cristiano grimaced. ‘And that was the line I used to get you into bed?’
    Her shy smile pierced his heart. Or perhaps it was just his conscience. She was blushing again.
    ‘Ah, well…it wasn’t bed…’
    ‘Where, then?’
    He was standing right in front of her now, close enough to see her pupils dilate and catch the sweet scent of her skin, the musky base note of sex that still clung to her body from last night. The towel around his waist suddenly seemed pitifully, dangerously inadequate.
    ‘The swimming pool,’ she said huskily, looking straight into his eyes. She was still leaning back against the huge window, only now she didn’t look tense, or cold, or shy. There was something very sensual about her tousled hair, the smudges of kohl beneath her eyes, her sweet, plump lips as she spoke.
    ‘You made me close my eyes and you took my hand.’ She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. ‘And very gently you led me into the water, with all my clothes on, and you picked me up and held me against you.’
    Cristiano felt his fingers tighten reflexively around hers, echoing the rest of his body.
    ‘I had never felt anything like your strength,’ she went on. ‘Your certainty. It made me feel so safe. I wrapped my legs around you and very slowly you peeled off my wet clothes…’
    He closed his eyes. For a moment, a dizzying, disorientating moment, he thought he felt the warmth of the water against his skin, the smell of the chlorine, the weight of her in his arms. And then all of that was obliterated by the urgency of the moment. Of wanting her. Now.
    The towel fell to the floor as he grasped her shoulders and pulled her into him.
    A second later it was joined by the white shirt, and then, hoisting her up into his arms, he carried her back to the bed.

Chapter Six
    K ATE stood in front of the gleaming stainless steel range cooker in a sort of dream, stirring the fragrant contents of a large saucepan with absent-minded languor. The wooden boards were warm and smooth beneath her bare feet and her body ached and glowed. Outside the short February day was fading, and the mountains were ice-blue against the flame-streaked sky—a more gaudy and flamboyant version of the pastel-coloured sunrise.
    How could the day have slipped by so quickly? she wondered. A smile pulled at her lips as she realised the answer to that question. They’d spent most of it in bed and time had become meaningless as they’d explored each other’s bodies and drifted in and out of sleep. But now she became conscious of the gentle ticking of the long-case clock, and, rather than simply providing a soothing background to her thoughts, it reminded her of reality.
    Guiltily she reached for her phone, listening for a moment before she pressed Lizzie’s number. From outside she could hear the