Jane Porter - Mistress To a Latin Lover

A small erratic pulse beat at his throat. “Why Padua?”

“Emilio said—”

“What?” Maximos was staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost, his dark eyes glazed, unseeing.

“That the city has a special significance for him.”

Abruptly Maximos turned away. His features had hardened, the skin taut, pale, like polished stone. “Get out.” His voice was low, raspy. “Get out before I personally throw you out.”

CHAPTER TWO

“I’M NOT leaving,” Cass said, jerking her elbow from his hand. “I didn’t come here simply to torture you. There were things I needed to see. Things I needed to know.”

Maximos’s expression suddenly shifted, his dark eyes lighting, a new alertness sharpening his features. “What things ?”

“I needed to understand why I couldn’t—” Her voice broke, and the words failed her. She took a breath, wrapped her courage around her and continued. “Have more of you. Understand why you never gave me more—” And suddenly Cass knew she’d said too much. She could tell from Maximos’s expression that she’d just unwittingly revealed her hand.

“You’re not his fiancée,” Maximos said grimly. “This is a sham, a charade—”

“ No .” Her pulse leapt wildly. What had she done? What had she said? “It’s true. I am—”

“Then why do you care so much about us ?” He practically hissed the last word.

“Maybe because I don’t want to make the same mistake twice!” She’d been through hell and back since he left her. She’d suffered more than she’d thought possible and the pain had taught her one truth: she could do anything she wanted to. “Maybe I want to understand what happened so I can damn well make sure it doesn’t occur again.”

His brow contorted, his expression dark, punishing. “I appreciate your thirst for knowledge, carissima , but this isn’t the time.”

“Maybe it’s not convenient now, but you’ll never willingly give me the time, Maximos, will you?”

A muscle pulled in his jaw. He was angry. Cass allowed her mouth to curve, one corner of her lips lifting in a small dry smile. “Maybe it is crazy to show up here with Emilio, but I wanted to see—no, I needed to see—what you wouldn’t share with me.”

“We had an agreement—”

“Sex,” she interrupted bitterly, wishing she could have been content with just sex. Why couldn’t sex—especially as it’d been good sex—be enough? It was for others. She’d heard that there were women who were happy with the contact, the release, and she’d thought she was one of those, thought she could do just sex if that was all Maximos could give…at first.

But with Maximos it hadn’t worked that way. From the very first time they made love she wanted more, felt more, needed more. Maximos made her crave everything…emotion, passion, connection. The kind of binding connection that kept two people together…

If she could go back, do it all again, what would she do?

And Cass tried to see herself as she’d been then, young, slim, fit, hungry for something interesting to happen.

When she met Maximos she’d wanted adventure, hoped for mystery, and passion. Especially passion. It had seemed like fun, the desire for Maximos, and she’d loved the way the desire built, rising, swelling, doubling. The desire had seemed so eager and open, extravagant with potential. She’d seen no dangers, no closed doors. Just endless, wonderful possibility, and the excitement pulled her in, swept her away. Desire, have me. Hope, here I am. Love, will you come?

She’d been reckless and bold, tossing her head, inviting Maximos closer. And he’d been willing. More than willing. He’d been as eager as her. Maybe even more.

How could it go wrong?

Now she knew. Men didn’t need what women needed. Men could bury their heart, even as they drove forward with their bodies. A man could empty himself into a woman and not look back. A woman held the man, cradled his body, contained his passion. She might want to forget, might want to walk away, but part of her remembered. Part of her always remembered. And the better the sex, the more exquisite the lovemaking, the more the woman wanted it to be love, and less about physical gratification.

“Just sex,” she repeated numbly, trying to hide the depth of her heartbreak. Sex with Maximos had been nothing short of perfection.

His jaw flexed. His dark eyes burned down at her. “You knew the agreement.”

“Things change,” she answered and he didn’t respond. She loved that about him. He would resort to silence whenever he didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading. How nice to be a man. How admirable to be able to resort to silence, the lofty heights, the superiority of a nonanswer. But this is how it had always been between them even if she’d never let herself see it…wouldn’t admit it…not until he’d walked from her life forever.

“People change,” she added tautly, knowing she was goading him, and glad to have the chance to say all the things she’d never said before.

His upper lip pulled. “Don’t they.”

“So who is the new lover?” Cass asked, tilting her head, smiling bitterly up at him, ignoring the anger in his eyes, the cold contemptuous expression on his face. His coldness couldn’t hurt her now. Cold was so much easier than fire.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“I’ve never been absurd.” She handed her wineglass to a passing waiter and crossed her empty arms over her chest to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. “I’ve never asked you for anything. I just gave, and gave, and gave.”

“You got plenty, bella .”

“In bed .”

“It’s what you wanted.”

Rage swept through her, so hot, so dry, it blistered her from head to toe. “If I’d known it’d only be sex I would have been more selfish, demanded more satisfaction. I would have demanded an orgasm every time you touched me!”

She’d shocked him.

She saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes but then he shook it off and took a step toward her. “This isn’t the way to my heart.”

“Good!” She leaned right into him, emotion rioting over her face. “I don’t want your heart. It’s small and black and hard. In fact, you might want to see a doctor because it might not even be a heart at all!”

Maximos inhaled hard, lips pinching, nostrils flaring, his beautiful features alive with anger. “I don’t have time to do this—”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just ignore me. It’s what you usually do, right?”

“ Cassandra .”

“Yes, Max?” She’d intentionally shortened his name, turning it into slang and she knew how he hated the abbreviated version. He wasn’t a Max. He was Maximos. He was a ruler, a conqueror, a king.

His hand wrapped around her upper arm, fingers pinching. Her arm flooded with hot, painful sensation.

“This is my family,” he said, his deep rough voice falling lower. “This is a private party, a private family function, and I won’t have you upsetting my family the night before my sister’s wedding.”

“You’re close to your family then? I had no idea. But then, we never really got to know each other that well, did we?”

“We had two years together.”

“Really? That long?” She made a clucking sound of surprise. “Who would have thought?” she added, even as she laughed inwardly, bitterly. She knew exactly how long they’d been together, could remember the first night so clearly, as well as the next thousand and ninety five nights between then and now.

“So we did know each other.”

“Obviously not that well,” she contradicted, amazed at how steady her voice was. She’d always had a husky voice for a woman but it was even deeper, stronger than usual. Six months of crying had bruised her vocal cords, torn up her heart completely but at least she could look Maximos in the eye and not tear up. The tears were gone. He’d had something good and he hadn’t cared. He’d wanted sex. He could have had all of her.