or fear; even her gaze was open to him, open and trusting. Kneeling before her, his own body naked and vulnerable, his desire on obvious and proud display, Leo felt humbled.
Humbled and ashamed that he had been attempting something he now knew was impossible: emotionless sex with Alyse. With his wife.
She held out her arms to him. ‘Make love to me, Leo,’ she said softly, and he let out a sound that was something between a near-sob and a laugh. How had this woman reached him—reached him and felled him—so easily? His jaded cynicism fell away and his cold, hard heart warmed and softened into pliant yielding as he came to her, enfolded her body into his and buried his face in the warm, silken curve of her neck.
In response she curled around him, arching her body into his, giving him everything she had. Leo took it as his mouth claimed hers and his hands explored her warm, supple curves; then his body found hers as he slid inside and they joined as one—one flesh, one person. It felt holy and sacred, infinitely pleasurable, and so much more than he’d ever expected or thought he wanted.
His last cold reserve broke on the sweetness of her response as he drove into her again and again, losing himself, blending into her until he didn’t know where he ended and she began. And, even more amazingly and importantly, such a distinction no longer mattered.
* * *
Alyse lay back on the pillows, her whole body thrumming with pleasure. Leo had rolled onto his back next to her, one arm thrown over his face. As her heart rate began to slow from a thud she felt the perspiration cooling on her skin, the slight chill of the night air from the open windows...and the fact that she couldn’t see Leo’s expression. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling at all.
Just moments ago when he’d been touching her—been inside her—she’d felt so close to him, in such glorious union that all of her fears and doubts had been blown away, scattered like so much cold ash.
Now they returned, settling inside her, unwelcome embers fanning into painful flame.
She’d given everything to Leo in that moment, everything she had in her to give... But perhaps even now he’d turn away from her, slide off the bed and stalk to the bathroom, as coldly indifferent as ever. Even as she braced herself for it she knew she couldn’t keep herself from being hurt, or even devastated. She might not love him—yet—but she’d still given more to this man than to any other.
She felt Leo stir next to her and still she was afraid to say anything, to break whatever delicate bond held them together in this moment, the remnants of their love-making. Words would, she feared, sound like challenges to Leo, perhaps accusations or even ultimatums. For once she wanted simply to let this moment be whatever it was, and not demand or yearn for more.
Slowly he moved his arm from covering his face and swung up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor, his back to her.
‘I’ll get us something to drink,’ he said and, slipping on his boxer shorts, he went to the en suite dressing room.
Alyse lay there for a moment, increasingly conscious with every cooling second of her own nakedness, yet she was loath to cover herself, to leave the intimacy of what had just happened behind—or, worse, pretend it had never happened... Just as Leo, perhaps, was pretending.
Or maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe, for him, it had been just sex and she was the one, as always, who was constructing castles in the air—castles made of nothing, as insubstantial as smoke or mist, dissipating just as quickly.
He returned a few minutes later while she still lay there on the bed, naked and fighting against feeling exposed. She pushed her hair away from her eyes and struggled to a sitting position, still resisting the urge to cover herself. She’d promised herself—and, without his knowledge, Leo—that she would be open to him tonight. That she wouldn’t dissemble, guard or prevaricate. Not even now, when every instinct she possessed screamed for self-protection.
‘Here.’ His voice sounded alarmingly brusque as he pressed a bottle of water into her hands.
‘Where—?’
‘There’s a mini-fridge in the dressing room.’ The corner of his mouth quirked in what Alyse couldn’t be sure was a smile. ‘They put champagne in there as well, but I thought we’d had enough of that.’
‘Ah. Yes.’ Because this wasn’t a champagne-worthy moment? She took a sip of the chilled water.
Leo drained half of his own before he lowered it from his lips, twisting the bottle around in his hands, his gaze averted from hers. Alyse just waited, sensing he intended to say something, but having no idea what it was.
Finally he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and even then she couldn’t gauge his mood, couldn’t fathom what he intended to say, or how he felt at all. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Alyse braced herself.
‘I don’t know,’ he began haltingly, ‘how much I have to give.’
Ayse just stared at him, his words slowly penetrating the dazed fog of her mind. I don’t know how much I have to give. She felt a smile spread across her face—a ridiculously huge smile, considering what he’d said was a far, far cry from a declaration of love.
And yet it was something. It was a lot, for a man like Leo, because he was saying—at least, she hoped he was saying—that he still had something to give. And, more importantly, that he wanted to give it.
‘That’s okay,’ she said softly and Leo glanced away.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a moment. ‘For treating our marriage—our relationship—like an imposition.’
‘That’s what it was for you,’ Alyse answered. She didn’t add what everything inside her was hoping, singing: until now.
‘I’ve never tried a real relationship before,’ he continued, his gaze still averted. ‘At least, not for a long while.’
‘Neither have I.’
He glanced at her then, a slow smile curving his mouth. ‘Then that makes two of us.’
She smiled back, her hopes soaring straight to the sky. ‘I suppose it does.’
Neither of them spoke for a few moments and Alyse couldn’t keep the lightness, the giddy relief, from swooping through her. She tried to tell herself that really this was very little, that she wasn’t even sure what Leo was saying or offering. Yet still, the hope. The joy. She couldn’t keep herself from feeling them, from wanting to feel them.
Eventually Leo took her half-empty water bottle as well as his own and put them away. Alyse slipped to the bathroom and returned to find him in bed, the firelight flickering over his bronzed body, his arms above his head. She hesitated on the threshold, still unsure how to act, and then Leo pulled aside the duvet and patted the bed.
‘Come here,’ he said softly and, smiling, she came.
She slid into the bed and felt her heart lurch with unexpected joy once again when he gently pulled her to him and cradled her body against his own, her head pillowed on his arm. She breathed in the scent of him, a woodsy aftershave and clean soap, and listened to the crackle of the logs in the fireplace and the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. She felt almost perfectly content.
Neither
