excuse the lies you told?” He drew one finger along her bare knee. ”Does that excuse you coming to my bed, pretending to be someone else?”
She shifted her leg away from his touch. Her heart raced. Her body tingled. She could force no words past her lips.
His gaze swept over her body. He reached out and slid his finger over her leg again, traveling up her thigh to trace the edge of her hem. “You know how you can make it up to me.”
She shivered. Swallowed. “You want me as your mistress. You want to shame me into being nothing but a woman who must be ready and willing to have sex with you whenever you snap your fingers.”
“I must try snapping my fingers some time to see if it actually works,” he said wryly.
“Do you really want me to agree to have sex with you out of some sense of guilt?”
He slipped the tip of his finger beneath the hem. “We’ve already had sex. Were you feeling guilty when you agreed to come to my bed that night?”
“No. That’s not why I agreed.” She started to rise, but he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and held her there.
“Why did you agree, Mia?”
She tried to yank her arm out of his hold but he wouldn’t let her go. “Because I was stupid? Because I was attracted to you? Because I wanted to know what one night with you would be like?” She picked up her glass of wine with her free hand and finished in it one long gulp. “All of the above, I imagine. If you want to know the truth, I felt like Cinderella at the ball and I wanted the night to last a little longer even though I knew the clock would strike midnight eventually.”
“So now I am Prince Charming?”
Mia laughed, a sharp, broken sound. “That night, yes. Now?” She shook her head. “I think perhaps you were playing a part as well.”
He released his hold on her wrist and she was dismayed to realize then how much she missed his touch. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“You were trying to seduce a woman you wanted to agree to become your wife. A stranger you somehow decided would fit the bill.” It all made sense now. He’d never cared about her, even when he thought she was Birgitte. “I imagine you would have done anything, said anything, to make her agree. You pretended to be a charming prince when we both know, from your actions since then, that you are not that prince at all.”
“I was angry. I am angry,” he growled. “At being lied to. By you. The woman who cannot be my wife. The woman who pretended that she could be.”
He rose from the sofa in one smooth, decisive move. “Enough. It is late.” He reached out his hand to her and Mia found herself taking it without hesitation. He drew her up and into his arms and her traitorous body softened and melted against him. “I need your answer now. I want to take you to my bed again.”
Arousal shimmered over her skin and there was no doubt what her answer would be.
“And if I agree, is that where I must stay until Birgitte comes?”
He shook his head, chuckled softly as he brushed her hair back from her face. “I will not handcuff you to the bed.” He smirked. “Not unless you wish it.”
Heat flared within her. “Do you still hate me?” she asked as their bodies pressed shamelessly against one another.
His dark eyes bore into hers. “Of course.”
“It would only make it worse if we did feel something for each other, wouldn’t it?” Mia asked softly.
“Yes,” he replied. “We have no future together. You know this.”
She nodded, foolish sorrow a crushing pressure on her chest. “It’s better if we continue to hate each other. It will make it easier when I have to walk away again.”
Vittorio drove his fingers into her hair, holding her head in his hands. “Was it not easy for you to leave before?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”
The kiss was hard, punishing, before he swept her up in his arms. “Then you agree? You will
She shifted her leg away from his touch. Her heart raced. Her body tingled. She could force no words past her lips.
His gaze swept over her body. He reached out and slid his finger over her leg again, traveling up her thigh to trace the edge of her hem. “You know how you can make it up to me.”
She shivered. Swallowed. “You want me as your mistress. You want to shame me into being nothing but a woman who must be ready and willing to have sex with you whenever you snap your fingers.”
“I must try snapping my fingers some time to see if it actually works,” he said wryly.
“Do you really want me to agree to have sex with you out of some sense of guilt?”
He slipped the tip of his finger beneath the hem. “We’ve already had sex. Were you feeling guilty when you agreed to come to my bed that night?”
“No. That’s not why I agreed.” She started to rise, but he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and held her there.
“Why did you agree, Mia?”
She tried to yank her arm out of his hold but he wouldn’t let her go. “Because I was stupid? Because I was attracted to you? Because I wanted to know what one night with you would be like?” She picked up her glass of wine with her free hand and finished in it one long gulp. “All of the above, I imagine. If you want to know the truth, I felt like Cinderella at the ball and I wanted the night to last a little longer even though I knew the clock would strike midnight eventually.”
“So now I am Prince Charming?”
Mia laughed, a sharp, broken sound. “That night, yes. Now?” She shook her head. “I think perhaps you were playing a part as well.”
He released his hold on her wrist and she was dismayed to realize then how much she missed his touch. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“You were trying to seduce a woman you wanted to agree to become your wife. A stranger you somehow decided would fit the bill.” It all made sense now. He’d never cared about her, even when he thought she was Birgitte. “I imagine you would have done anything, said anything, to make her agree. You pretended to be a charming prince when we both know, from your actions since then, that you are not that prince at all.”
“I was angry. I am angry,” he growled. “At being lied to. By you. The woman who cannot be my wife. The woman who pretended that she could be.”
He rose from the sofa in one smooth, decisive move. “Enough. It is late.” He reached out his hand to her and Mia found herself taking it without hesitation. He drew her up and into his arms and her traitorous body softened and melted against him. “I need your answer now. I want to take you to my bed again.”
Arousal shimmered over her skin and there was no doubt what her answer would be.
“And if I agree, is that where I must stay until Birgitte comes?”
He shook his head, chuckled softly as he brushed her hair back from her face. “I will not handcuff you to the bed.” He smirked. “Not unless you wish it.”
Heat flared within her. “Do you still hate me?” she asked as their bodies pressed shamelessly against one another.
His dark eyes bore into hers. “Of course.”
“It would only make it worse if we did feel something for each other, wouldn’t it?” Mia asked softly.
“Yes,” he replied. “We have no future together. You know this.”
She nodded, foolish sorrow a crushing pressure on her chest. “It’s better if we continue to hate each other. It will make it easier when I have to walk away again.”
Vittorio drove his fingers into her hair, holding her head in his hands. “Was it not easy for you to leave before?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.”
The kiss was hard, punishing, before he swept her up in his arms. “Then you agree? You will
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