Page 38

It only made him angrier.

“Changed your number?”

Her eyes fluttered shut briefly.

“Had a stroke and forgotten how to text, or return a call?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, which made his cock—which clearly couldn’t read the room—jump optimistically. Her breasts, sweetly rounded, were clearly visible beneath the soft cotton of her shirt. He forced himself to hold her gaze, even when he really, really wanted to look elsewhere.

“I needed a break.”

He frowned, momentarily perplexed. “From me?” He heard the arrogance of the question the second he’d asked it, but he couldn’t exactly call the words back. Besides, it was true. He’d never once been walked out on. He’d never once had a woman end things with him.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Is it seriously so hard for you to fathom that I might just want some space?”

Memories of their time together filtered through his mind at lightning speed. Every touch, look, laugh, and heated glance. Every spark, every bliss. He had enough experience to know he hadn’t imagined any of that. Then, there was her admission, that being with him filled her with light.

“Yes.”

She laughed, but the sound was completely lacking humour.

“I know I’m not imagining this.”

Something shifted on her expression then, so for a second he saw beneath the veneer she was projecting to a real emotion. Uncertainty. Confusion.

“Imagining what?”

Now it was Salvatore who hesitated, choosing his words with care. Even without thinking this through, he was aware something was changing. The easy arrangement they’d formed two weeks ago no longer seemed totally without danger.

Did he face that head on, or act as though nothing had changed for him?

“I can’t get enough of you, okay? There. I said it. I can’t get enough of you. And I know you feel the same way about me—you’ve said as much. So why the hell have you spent the last three days icing me out, Emilia?”

She flinched then, skin paling beneath her tan, and again he saw that uncertainty cross her features. He was glad he’d come here. Glad he’d decided to confront her on this. He wasn’t sure why she’d run away from him, but there was no way he could leave this stone unturned.

“I saw you, the other night.” She didn’t meet his eyes, so wouldn’t have seen the confusion on his features.

“What? What other night?”

She twisted her fingers in front of her. “At the gala. In the library.”

He frowned, twisting that night over in his mind, trying to work out why having seen him would be a problem. “You knew I was going. Why is it a problem that you saw me there?”

“I saw who you were with,” she muttered, cheeks flushing with pink.

He shook his head, totally at a loss, until he remembered. “Becca.”

Emilia shrugged. “I don’t know her name.”

“Becca,” he repeated, something unfamiliar churning inside of his gut. Guilt. Regret. Because while he knew that nothing had happened, on reflection, their friendship and intimacy would have seemed…obvious, to anyone caring to look. “She’s a family friend.”

Emilia tilted her chin. “Just a friend?”

He clamped his lips together, that same unfamiliar emotion churning in his belly. “Now, yes.”