one of her hands in his. There was something instantly comforting about that touch. She wanted to lean into him, let his arms come around her so that she could feel even more protected.
But she couldn’t. He would never allow that. She was honestly shocked he was letting her touch him at all when he pulled away any time things got too intimate between them.
“Nothing,” she lied. “He only said good night.”
He didn’t look certain, and she knew she ought to tell him the truth. But what if she did? Jonah would panic, he would drag her out of here, he would never return with her. He might even tell her brother. And all for what? A throwaway endearment from a stranger who probably meant no harm?
“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. “I’ve been so sheltered my whole life, I am not accustomed to a stranger just coming up to me like that.”
Which was true enough. And probably why she was overreacting.
“Are you certain that’s all?” he pressed.
She nodded. “I think I’m just…tired. Tonight has been eventful.”
“That’s one way to put it,” he muttered. “Shall I take you home?”
Again, she nodded, even though she wanted to push her luck. She wanted to beg him to take her to his home, not hers. To his bed, not leave her cold in her own. What would he say if she were so direct?
He would deny her. That was what he would do. She knew that like she knew the back of her hand. He’d done so already once. Was she ready to face that again?
“Yes, I think that would be best,” she said, and rose. He offered her an arm and she stared at it. Stared at him, this man who aroused such complicated and heated feelings in her. This man who so obviously wanted her and yet had the strength to turn away.
This man who had awakened things in her she had never fully felt before. It was as if she had been sleeping, put up in a tower her whole life, but now she knew what the world looked like and she could never fully go back to what she was before.
“Miss…Crawford,” he said, his voice getting rougher as he said his own name. The name she’d stolen for her own, if only for a few nights of pleasure.
“Yes,” she said, pressing her fingers into the crook of his elbow. “I’m sorry. I’m ready.”
He cast her a quick side glance, but said nothing else as he guided her through the room. She hardly saw any of the writhing bodies anymore. Didn’t hear the moans. She was too focused on her own tangled thoughts, her own worries, her own memories of what she’d done here with the man who was guiding her home.
And her fears that she might never get to experience any of it again.
Ilaria had been quiet on the drive back to the gated house where she and her family were staying. She stared straight ahead, her hands clenched in her lap. A thousand questions raced through Jonah’s head. Questions about the man who had been sitting with her at the club, because he knew she was withholding something on that topic.
But also about their encounter. Was she sorry it had happened? Was she as haunted by thoughts of it as he was? And if he dared to beg her, would she come to his bed and give herself to him?
Only he couldn’t ask those things. Not if he wanted to maintain his sanity.
She looked at him at last when he turned the phaeton down the narrow alleyway behind the house. “What…what will we do now?” she asked, her voice trembling just a fraction. But enough that it answered a great many of his questions.
He brought the horses to a stop before she twisted in his seat to face her. He held her stare evenly and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from digging this hole even deeper, not when she was staring at him like he was some sweet treat.
“You mean now that I’ve eaten your pussy in a public hall until you clawed scratch marks in the wallpaper?”
Her breath shuddered out but she lifted her chin almost defiantly. “Yes.”
“I’m not certain,” he admitted. “It changes the tenor of our relationship, there is no denying that. Are you still intent on testing your boundaries, even after tonight?”
She drew back and stared at him. “Wait…did you…did