Cathy Williams - Six Greek Heroes

He had made her coming to his bed sound like a meaningless encounter between two people intent on scratching a sexual itch. It was nothing like that. He did not love her, could not marry her, but he desired her with a multilayered intensity he’d never known with another woman.

That’s what he should have said, not the tactless spiel about not expecting a marriage proposal afterward.

When she came back in with the dessert, she gave him no opportunity to rectify his error, keeping up an animated flow of conversation about the movie they were going to watch, how kind his housekeeper had been to give up her kitchen and how much Rachel loved the decor in his apartment.

She’d given him an odd look when he’d told her the man’s name who had designed it, but had not asked about him. She was too busy changing the subject to something equally impersonal, but when she moved as if to sit in a chair instead of next to him on the sofa to watch the movie, he’d had enough.

His hand snaked out and grabbed her. “You’re supposed to cuddle next to me, remember?”

Her mouth, which had been mobile for the past twenty minutes, clamped shut.

“It is part of the special night you planned for me.”

Instead of arguing like he expected, would even have welcomed, because it would have given him a chance to clear the air, she nodded jerkily.

He pulled her onto the sofa with him, before pushing the volume button on the remote control. Old movie music filled the room as he tugged her into a reclining position beside him. He couldn’t help himself, but he wondered why she didn’t fight it. She wasn’t happy with him.

Despite her false front of bright chatter, he had no problem discerning that truth.

She gasped as they made body contact and he settled one arm around her waist. He looked down to find her eyes wide and her bow lips parted in surprise.

“This is called cuddling.” He curled her against him as close as they could get with their clothes on.

At the feel of her warm soft body, he forgot his intention to force a confrontation and simply took what was on offer.

Maybe she didn’t mind the fact that he wasn’t planning on a happily ever after with her. Maybe he’d mistaken her anger.

He squeezed her waist. “Lay your head on my shoulder and relax.”

Letting her head rest against him, her hand settled like a shy butterfly on his chest.

“Comfortable?” he asked, wondering how long he would last without touching her.

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