Page 29

He chuckled, a deep, velvety sound that sent a thrill right through her.

“I can see the thoughts spinning in your head,” he murmured, kissing her bare shoulder, then higher, brushing her hair aside so his lips could trail along the curve of her neck. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s really going on in there.”

“I’m not exactly sure,” she admitted softly.

He shifted, easing her onto her back, bracing himself above her. He studied her face. “That sounds ominous.”

She bit her lip, caught between embarrassment and the way his hand kept stroking her hair. Soothing. Tormenting.

“Want to know what’s on my mind?” he asked playfully, his hand sliding lower, down her arm, across her hip, along the curve of her thigh.

A helpless giggle escaped her, turning into a gasp when his fingers wandered inward. She pressed her thighs together, half-panicked at the idea of going through it all again so soon. Then his mouth found her ear again, nipping gently, and her body betrayed her, melting into him.

“Are you too sore?” he murmured, his fingers ghosting over her stomach, teasing lower.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “No, it’s not that.” She smiled happily when he moved his hand higher, cupping her breast.

“What is it then?” he asked, still nibbling at her ear and neck, gently stroking her nipple to life all over again.

“I don’t…,” she paused, lifting his wrist. “Why is your watch lighting up like that?”

He twisted his hand, muttered a curse, then pressed a button on his watch as he sighed with resignation. “I need to take care of something.” He pressed one last kiss to her neck. “Will you wait here for me?”

She blinked up at him, then gave a careless shrug. “Sure. I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

His gaze lingered on her, heavy and unreadable, as if he wanted to ask something more. But his watch lit up again, pulling his attention away. With an exasperated sigh, he muttered, “Don’t move. I’ll be back,” and the command carried more strain than he probably intended.

Madelaine grinned faintly and deliberately sat up, tugging the sheet over her bare body in silent defiance. He shot her a look, half warning, half exasperation, as he yanked on his jeans and shirt.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised.

She nodded, but inside she was reeling. Her body still hummed with satisfaction, a faint ache reminding her she hadn’t imagined those startling responses to his touch. Whatever had just passed between them had been very real.

Which made it sting more when he walked out of the bedroom, the door shutting softly behind him.

For a long moment, she just sat there. The room was bathed in moonlight, shadows cutting across the dark, masculine furnishings. Shades of brown and black dominated, softened here and there with cream, but overall, it felt like him. Solid, commanding, impenetrable.

She yawned, but sleep felt impossible. Should she stay here, curl back under the sheets, and wait for him? Or should she retreat to her own room, put distance between them, pretend this had never happened? Her pulse thudded with confusion. Her body had come alive in his arms in a way she hadn’t known was possible. That wasn’t normal. Right?

Her breath hitched. No. Normal had nothing to do with it. She wanted him again. Right now. Later. Always.

And that terrified her.

Sliding out of bed, she fumbled in the dark for her clothes. For a heartbeat, she considered abandoning them and climbing back into his bed to wait for him. Wanting him. But another part of her, the quieter, more fragile part, demanded time. Space. A chance to think.

She quietly dressed and slipped out of his bedroom, padding softly down the hall to her own. But lying down in her bed wasn’t enough. Her thoughts spun restlessly. She needed an outlet. Something to ground her.

She gathered her sketchbook, pencils, and pens, then wandered through the hushed house until she reached her favorite spot: the sofa by the tall windows at the rear. Curling into the corner, she hugged the paper to her chest and stared out at the silver moonlight spilling across the lawn. She wanted to go out into that moonlight and find some flowers, some leaves, but knew that the security alarms were set for the night. Her collection mission would have to wait until morning.

For a long while, she didn’t draw. Didn’t move. She only stared at the glowing moon, marveling at how calmly it shone while her entire world had been shaken apart.

Everything outside still looked normal. Ordinary. As if the earth hadn’t tilted on its axis.

But inside her, nothing would ever be the same.

After a while, she started drawing. She wasn’t the kind of artist like Catarina was. But once she put leaves and flowers down on the sketch, her art would take form, take color and literally bloom into the image she had in mind.

She thought about Paulo’s hand, the way he’d touched her with those fingertips, the way he’d thrust one into her and…!