the lust kind. She’d been so abandoned.
He turned his head sharply. ‘Don’t regret a thing about it,’ he said. ‘Most awesome experience of my life.’
She nodded.
‘It was even better than before,’ he whispered. He shook his head hopelessly. ‘All I want now is to do it all again. Again. Again.’ He rolled right onto his back and growled up at the ceiling. ‘But I have to catch my breath.’
And scratchy-voiced she reminded them both. ‘Only tonight.’
CHAPTER TEN
HE WAS fitter than she, because he recovered far more quickly than she’d thought possible. But he was oh-so-kind, and let her just lie back while he explored. Deeply.
And then he leaned over her. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘You can’t be serious.’ She was aghast.
He roared with laughter. ‘No, I mean your stomach.’
‘Oh, that. Yes.’
He disappeared down the ladder and came back with long-life food. Yeah, muesli bars had never tasted so good.
‘High energy.’ He handed her a can. ‘Drink that and have some chocolate. Not exactly gourmet but perfect given all that’s required of you in the next ten hours.’
All that was required of her? Oh, she liked these demands. ‘Aren’t you planning to sleep at all?’ She’d thought he’d been teasing about that, but now she wasn’t so sure.
‘Not a wink.’
Two hours later Ellie was convinced he’d want to sleep now. But the crazy thing was, although she was physically exhausted, the last thing she felt like was sleeping. ‘Can we turn the lantern out?’ she asked.
‘No.’ Ruben refused to let that happen. He didn’t want to lose an hour of this to sleep.
‘What if I promise to say your name, repeatedly, so you know I know who I’m with.’
He chuckled. ‘Why do you want it out? You know we’re not actually going to sleep any tonight.’
‘I want to see the stars.’
He glanced at the big window. Okay, he could see how that would be good.
‘I’ll say your name lots.’ She batted her eyelashes at him.
He knelt up and flicked the switch off. The moon wasn’t big or terribly bright, but the white mass of stars was incredible.
She commando crawled to the end of the bed and leaned closer to the window. ‘Ruben, this place is amazing.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’ He liked how she made him feel.
‘Ruben, I don’t just like it, up here we’re practically in heaven. Ruben, this is heaven.’
Yeah, it was as close as he’d come to that.
‘Ruben.’ She said his name again in an exaggerated tease. ‘Can you see Lepus?’
Given the way her eyes were reflecting the stars, he figured she meant a constellation. ‘I can see the Southern Cross but that’s about it.’
‘Well, Ruben, if you look up there to the left, you’ll see a bigger one, then three more in an almost circle around it,’ she directed him. ‘Do you see?’
‘I think so,’ he lied and heard her snort of disbelief. No fooling her, then.
But lying side by side staring up at the massive expanse of sky was nice. So was the way she played up the over-use of his name.
‘Ruben, to the left.’
‘Did your father teach you these?’ he asked.
‘Honestly, Ruben, he was more into the conquer-the-mountain thing. I learnt them myself. It was my personal reward for getting through the day’s climb. Ruben, I’d lie there and look up at them and give thanks I made it through another day.’
‘It really doesn’t sound like fun.’
‘It wasn’t so bad, Ruben. At least I had him to myself for a bit, whereas Mum was always on the phone or something.’
Poor Ellie. Well, the least he could give her was his undivided, utterly focused attention—tonight.
He bit back the laughter at her repeat, repeat, repeat of his name. In the dark, lying sideways across the bed together, they looked at the stars. Somehow the conversation drifted. She joked her way through her assortment of odd jobs in the movie industry, then the focus turned to him—with her prompting he talked through the long, slow battle that had been the chateau. Ironic to think it had started with him begging any kind of work he could to get funds to develop it. He’d worked like a dog. Then all of a sudden success had snowballed. The acquisitions in recent years had him running faster than a hamster on speed—more hours than ever before. A week or so from one business to the next—he was driven to personally ensure each was on track. She listened in the dark, asked questions about the early years and commented, constantly beginning each utterance with his name.
And then she turned the clock back a year or so more and asked about his father—about the cancer. That dark period in his life when he’d lost his father and a few months later his mother had left.
Ruben rolled away but she wrapped her soft body around his and didn’t let go.
‘It’s not something I can talk about,’ he muttered beneath his breath.
She heard him. Softly whispered his name as she embraced him, refusing to let him shut off from her completely.
But he never ever discussed those days—had never admitted to anyone the heartbreak of nursing his terminally ill parent when his mother had been too tired and distraught to cope any more. He’d never unloaded the desolate loss, the helplessness, the hopelessness.
The kind of pain he never wanted to endure again. That unbearable loneliness.
‘Ruben.’ She whispered his name softly. Her voice, like her body, a caress—soothing and so very, very sweet. Somehow it was as if she understood and absorbed that deep, private hurt. And for the first time in his adult life Ruben relaxed into a loving embrace. She held him and he let her—until the melancholy moment suddenly passed and he could stand her quiet comfort no longer. It was something else he wanted from her, only that one thing—right?
‘What are—? Oh!’ Breathless, she forgot to say his name at the beginning of a sentence.
‘Yeah.’ He chuckled as she squealed again.
‘What are you doing?’ She managed to finish the sentence that time. Still sans his name.
‘Turning the lantern back on.’ He moved away quickly to do it.
‘Why?’
He
