right, so I might have been checking you out,’ she said, staying flippant. ‘So what?’
‘I like it,’ he told her, and nuzzled her neck. ‘I like it a lot.’
‘Don’t get all arrogant on me now,’ she said, and Ben lifted his head to gaze at her steadily.
‘Trust me, Natalia, you keep me humble.’
She swallowed, moved by the sincerity on his face. In his eyes. He’d let go, she realised. He wasn’t letting the fear or lack of control keep him back, yet she still felt uncertain. Afraid. And she knew that wasn’t fair to him. Tentatively she touched his cheek. ‘I like it when you say my name,’ she whispered.
‘I like that you like it,’ he said, his eyes darkening, and then he captured her mouth in a consuming kiss. They didn’t speak any more for a little while.
Later, as she showered in Ben’s en suite bathroom while he saw to breakfast, Natalia heard himself humming. Felt herself smiling. Had she ever been this happy before? Had she ever felt this free, this loved?
Ben hadn’t said it, not really. Loving you. Last night had he simply meant physically, or something more? She could hardly ask for clarification of that statement. Yet she felt, with a fragile hopefulness, that he did love her. That last night he’d been showing he loved her, in so many ways.
But he doesn’t really know you.
The whisper slid slyly into her mind, filled it with the slow, seeping poison of doubt. Natalia stilled, tensed, the water from the shower still streaming over her. She knew she still had secrets, things she hadn’t told Ben, important things. And with that hidden knowledge came a lingering fear that this couldn’t last. It couldn’t actually be real. He’d tell her he’d changed his mind or he’d discover something that would make him change his mind… ?.
How could she trust him? She didn’t do trust. She’d learned at all of five years old that you didn’t show your weaknesses. You didn’t tell people your fears. Yet she’d been doing just that ever since she’d met Ben. Something in him—that quiet, rocklike core of steadiness—made her want to tell him. To reveal herself, even as she kept retreating and trying to cover her tracks. Cover herself.
Natalia leaned her head against the slippery tile and closed her eyes as the water streamed over her like tears. She didn’t know if she could do this. If she was brave enough to be honest, strong enough to be vulnerable.
Why does it have to be so hard?
She had no answer.
As Natalia came out of the bathroom, swathed in a huge terrycloth towel, she saw that Ben had laid out a clean T-shirt and shorts of his to wear. Natalia slipped them on, grabbing one of his belts to cinch at her waist for the clothes swam on her. Not the most fashionable of outfits, but it touched her that Ben had thought of it at all.
She followed the mouthwatering aroma of bacon and eggs frying to the kitchen, where Ben stood by the stove, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a worn grey T-shirt. Even now the sight of him, from his rumpled hair to his bare feet, made her mouth dry and her heart thud.
She loved him. She wanted to love him … if she’d let herself.
Why does it have to be so hard?
‘Hey.’ Her throat felt scratchy, her voice wobbly and she tried again. ‘That smells good.’
Ben glanced up, his eyes glinting as he took in her appearance. ‘I like your new look.’
She held out her arms, the T-shirt sliding off one shoulder. ‘They’re a little big.’
‘You look gorgeous.’ And she knew he meant it. Why was he being so nice? Natalia wondered. She was waiting for the sting. She was always waiting for it. She glanced away, anywhere but at him. ‘Coffee?’ Ben asked, and when she nodded he handed her a steaming mug which she took with murmured thanks, wrapping her hands around its comforting warmth.
She cleared her throat. ‘So.’
Ben glanced at her, amusement quirking his mouth and lightening his eyes. ‘So,’ he repeated, and inwardly she started to squirm.
‘This isn’t easy.’
‘No?’ He took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug.
‘I’m not …’ She took a breath, let it out slowly. ‘I’m not really used to this.’
‘I’m not either.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Why do you seem so relaxed then?’
He paused, seeming to weigh his words carefully. ‘Because last night made me happy.’
‘It made happy too,’ Natalia muttered. She could feel herself starting to blush again. Wonderful.
Ben smiled. ‘I know it did.’
‘I think your eggs are burning,’ she told him, and felt a rush of relief when he turned back to the stove. She was so not ready for this kind of honesty. Intimacy. It was entirely out of her experience, totally foreign to the way she normally operated. Defend. Deflect. Go on attack. Anything to keep people from getting close. From knowing.
She took a sip of coffee and wandered over to the sliding glass doors that led to the beach. The sunlight sparkled off the water, and she could see both her and Ben’s footprints in the sand, leading back to this door. Upstairs. Memories of last night rushed through her again and her throat tightened, her fingers clenching around the mug. Desire and dread, hope and fear, warred within her, an impossible tangle of emotions.
‘Breakfast is ready,’ Ben said, and she turned to see he’d placed two plates loaded up with eggs and bacon on the glass-topped table.
‘Fabulous.’ She wasn’t sure she could manage a mouthful, but she came to the table with her gamest smile. Not that she could ever fool Ben.
‘And I thought we could read the papers,’ Ben continued, smiling as he dropped two well-reputed papers on the table. ‘No paparazzi photographs, I promise.’
Natalia stilled, stared at those newspapers. Such a simple little thing. Reading the papers over coffee and eggs, sharing bits of news and toast with each other. What normal people did. What everyone else did. And virtually impossible for her.
‘Natalia?’ Ben prompted. She looked up, saw him frowning at her and she felt the pressure build in her chest.
It should be so easy to tell him. It could be. She knew he would show her compassion rather than contempt; she knew him—loved him—well enough to believe that. Yet she still couldn’t form the words. Bare her secret, her soul. It was just too hard. And she didn’t want to have him look at her with pity, couldn’t bear that now when she was already feeling so exposed and vulnerable.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said quietly and Natalia shook her head.
‘I can’t do this.’
‘Do what? Eat breakfast?’ He kept his voice light. ‘Read the paper?’
Yes.
