LITMIR.BIZ

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much—they’d swum, they’d rested. A lovely, lazy Sunday for anyone normal.

      But he wasn’t normal—was fundamentally different from most and especially someone like Sophy with her perfect world and her perfect family. And now—back on normal ground—he was feeling more alien than ever.

      Restless in his apartment, he tried to catch up on some work—went through the motions of checking his messages. He felt as if he’d stolen someone else’s life for a day and he was going to get caught out any moment. His heart pounded the way it had when he was a kid and had known trouble was coming. His concentration splintered, reformed—focused on only one thing.

      He went down to the room she’d taken as a workshop. Went into the cupboard at the back and pulled out the crate of paint. Twelve hours later he was still working on it in his office, hating the way he was so wired about seeing her.

      ‘Stay late tonight—I’ve got something to show you.’ He poked his head into her office halfway through the next day, not staying to explain, glad she had the temp with her so he couldn’t go and kiss the hell out of her as he wanted. He was a touch embarrassed. She might not like what he’d done. And wasn’t he just getting himself in an even stickier mess? He should be pulling away, not going in deeper.

      Lorenzo was no stranger to hardship—well used to going without. So a bit of abstinence should be nothing. But she was the first thing—the only thing—that he wasn’t sure he could give up.

      He’d noticed she was missing something for the show and he was certain she hadn’t had time to do it herself. She was up to her neck just trying to get the pieces done. She came to his office on the dot of five. He’d abandoned work hours ago—had been shooting hoops half the afternoon, was now sitting waiting.

      ‘It’s upstairs.’ He almost blushed. But the screen of his computer up there was bigger—that was why—not because up there was private and had his huge bed waiting. She said nothing, just followed. He swung the computer screen round so she could see. ‘I did some designs for you. If you want to use any I can get them printed.’

      She stopped in front of the computer and stared at the images he’d pulled up. ‘For business cards?’

      He nodded. ‘And labels for each piece—you can write on the details by hand or do them on the computer individually.’

      Her eyes were wide as she bent to take a closer look. ‘You’re a man of many talents, aren’t you?’

      ‘Some good, some not so good.’

      ‘Lorenzo, they’re amazing.’ She looked so thrilled he was even more embarrassed. ‘I can’t believe you did this for me.’

      He shifted uncomfortably. ‘It didn’t take anything. It’s really easy.’ Okay, it hadn’t been that easy. He’d stayed up half the night painting and then spent half the morning getting them into digital form. And then playing some more with them.

      ‘I won’t mind if you don’t want to use them.’

      ‘Of course I want to.’ She was already fiddling with the mouse, tapping words. ‘Lorenzo, this is fantastic. Thank you so much—I love them.’

      ‘Okay.’ He felt the relief whistle through him. ‘Well, you want to work on them now? Then I’ll get them printed. You’ll be right on schedule.’

      He went to the coffee machine. Hadn’t slept all night, didn’t need the hit now, but it was something to do. He glanced over to his workspace—she’d pulled up the seat and was busy adjusting his designs, experimenting with the text to go across the swirling design he’d created as her logo.

      His heart thudded even more uncomfortably as the edge of panic sliced into him. He glanced at the door. This wasn’t just his place, but his escape—his private lair. So why the hell had he tainted it with her scent again? It had taken days to fade after the last time she’d been here—when he’d been stupidly sick. And her scent had tormented his fever then. It was swirling round him now—tempting, choking him.

      He shouldn’t feel annoyed she was here—he’d invited her, after all. But now he wished he hadn’t. He needed to get out before he did something stupid. All he could see was the memory of her lush mouth sucking him in, the look in her eyes as she’d arched above him.

      ‘Um…’ he walked away ‘…I’m going for a run.’

      She looked up from the computer. ‘Now?’

      ‘Uh-huh.’ He moved as fast as possible. If he didn’t the concrete would set around him and he’d be stuck completely.

      As soon as he changed into shorts and trainers he got out onto the pavement and pushed it from the off. But with every pound of his feet the pull sharpened. It was like being torn in two. He pushed harder. Aimed to go further. But…he couldn’t fight it. Any hope of restraint faded. He turned back.

      The door slammed behind him. His breathlessness didn’t ease. His erection grew harder. He’d run from her yet in less than twenty minutes was running back to her faster than before. His fingers curled tighter in his fists. She looked up as he strode across the room. He winced as her cool gaze swept over him. No way could she fail to see the state he was in. He walked across the room.

      ‘You’re going to shower?’

      He nodded and strode faster. The torment infuriated him. He faced the shower head, turning the jet onto full power. Not caring that the gush of water was slightly too hot and needling his nipples. His sensitive nipples. He’d managed to go without all kinds of things before—why not now? He braced his hands on the wall and pushed his face into the rush of water, wanting to wash away the desire he felt for her. Wanting the emptiness back. It was easier—so much easier.

      A hand slipped around his body. He gasped as she grasped his straining erection. He could feel her soft body against his back. And then her other arm wrapped round him too, her fingers teasing circles around one of those too sensitive nipples—tormenting him further. ‘Sophy, don’t.’ The words hurt. Everything hurt.

      ‘Do you really mean that?’

      ‘You don’t know what will happen.’

      Her mouth moved across the skin stretching across his tense shoulders. ‘Don’t I?’

      He pushed harder against the wall with his hands, desperate to thrust his hips. This would all be over in a second if he didn’t get a grip. But it was her grip that tightened—pulling up his length with faster, harder strokes.

      ‘Sophy.’ He whirled around and pulled her close.

      She shivered as he brushed his lips up the length of her neck in the gentlest ever touch—the sweeping caress a complete contrast to the rough, hard hold of his hands. He struggled to soften that hold—but couldn’t, so made his kisses light instead.

      ‘I want you so bad,’ he confessed.

      ‘That’s not a bad thing.’

      Oh, but it was. The water thundered in his ears. She was so soft—so heart-meltingly soft. But it was because she was so soft that he should be staying away. Instead he leaned into her, his lips trailing over her jaw, sucking her lip. He felt the insane need to touch strengthen again. His need to be with her was unstoppable now.

      ‘Are you too sore?’ He tried to slow down—they had been so physical yesterday and he was sure she must be tender.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      She arched, lifted her legs to curl them around his thighs—opening to give him all access. And as he felt the wet heart of her sliding against him he lost it. Couldn’t stop now even if he tried, the last shred of control gone. His hands moved, fingers gripping tight, holding her so she couldn’t move.

      He was hardly conscious of her cries as he mindlessly pumped deeper and deeper, growling as he strove for the bliss only a stroke or two away.

      Instinctive,

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