‘I want my first time with a man to be on my terms, with someone who wants me just as badly as I want him.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
IN HIS MIND Roman simply gathered her into his arms and carried her up to his suite as fast as his legs could take him. Surely this was far more torture than one man was expected to endure? But in reality he remained silent for a long moment, his throat dry as his mind fought to sort between loyalty and lust.
She was offering herself to him on a silver platter.
‘You think you can separate sex from love?’ he said softly.
‘If the sex is good enough.’ She shrugged one delicate shoulder, biting her lower lip gently as though embarrassed by her own words.
She couldn’t even say the word without blushing and she wanted to fall into bed with him. He took one step towards her, then another, until they were almost toe to toe.
‘Men like me don’t make love, Olivia,’ he said darkly. ‘They don’t make empty promises just to play into some fantasy.’
She gulped, looking up at him through hooded lashes. ‘What if I don’t want the fantasy?’
‘I have a thousand fantasies I could tell you about,’ he whispered. ‘Each one more risqué and physically demanding than the last. I would have you naked in my bed quicker than you could beg me to take you. Is that what you want me to say?’
‘I...’ Her voice trailed off, her eyes wide with uncertainty.
Roman let one finger trace the curve of her shoulder. ‘You’re not ready for me, Princess,’ he said cruelly. ‘You need a man who is going to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and make sugar-coated promises. I’m not that man.’
* * *
Roman braced his hand on the door of his suite and laid his forehead against the wood—hard.
Loyalty be damned. He wanted nothing more than to break down every door between them and take her like the unrefined street thug that he was.
But she was a virgin. She was not his to take.
Even as his mind thought the words his fist tightened in protest.
He took another deep, rattling breath, feeling the stale air of the room fill his lungs to bursting point.
She was not his.
With more force than necessary he turned and swung open the door to the terrace, silently thanking his housekeeper for placing his guest in the opposite wing of the villa. What would Olivia think of him now? Standing out in the night air, trying desperately to calm his raging libido like a scorned youth?
He looked across to where the light shone out from her rooms.
No. He shook his head, turning to vault down the stone steps in the direction of the pool. He had made his decision, just as she had made hers. And by God he would live with it.
The night was surprisingly mild, with barely a breath of breeze blowing in from the bay. The moon was full and high in the sky, casting a silvery glow on the water of the pool.
He took no time in stripping down and diving in, shock coursing through him as the cold water encased his skin, penetrating through to his very core. The pool was deep and he pushed himself to his limit, waiting as long as possible before breaking the surface.
As the balmy air refilled his lungs he saw the unmis
takable silhouette of Olivia, standing near the water’s edge.
Roman stood, so that the water reached his waist, very aware that he was completely nude in the water. His heart beat slow and hard in his chest. They were silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving hers.
‘You decided to take a late-night swim,’ she said, her voice strangely husky in the dim light.
‘And you followed me.’
She moved to the entry steps of the pool, dipping one toe in before stepping down ankle-deep in the water.