‘I’m not most men and we seem to be coming back to the fishing for compliments game. I fancied you the minute I laid eyes on you at my ski lodge.’
‘You did?’ Now she definitely wanted to hear more.
‘And now here we are, in bed together, and trust me—I enjoyed every second of the experience. In fact, if I didn’t think you were sore, I would repeat it right now all over again...’ He cupped her with his hand and her eyelids fluttered. ‘Why me?’
‘Sorry?’ Milly dragged her addled brain into some sort of functioning order and frowned.
‘You’re hopelessly romantic...’
‘Not hopelessly.’
‘Romantic enough for me to wonder why you would choose your first experience to be with me, under these circumstances. I’m curious as to why you didn’t sleep with the man you presumed you were going to marry but you were happy to hop in the sack with a guy you definitely won’t be ending up with.’
‘I haven’t sat down and analysed it but...I guess, maybe, I just needed...’
‘A tonic? A pick-me-up? And I happened to be the nearest suitable medication to hand? Wasn’t the ex man enough to entice you into bed?’
‘The ex didn’t fancy me,’ Milly said bluntly. ‘So he didn’t put much effort into trying.’
‘And you didn’t bother to try either.’
‘I...’ I was never the sort of girl to make the first move. Yet she had made the first move with Lucas, hadn’t she? Was it because she’d had nothing to lose? Or was it because she had never grasped the full meaning of lust until she’d met him?
‘I suppose I was waiting for the big night.’ In love with the thought of being in love, but she’d never fancied Robbie. Lucas had shown her that; lust and love were two separate things, miles apart. She stared at his lean, dark face for a few disorientated seconds. ‘You’re right. Stupidly romantic. This is real life. Maybe subconsciously that’s what I wanted, to connect with real life...’
‘A man could be hurt.’
‘I can’t picture you ever being hurt. I mean, so hurt that you wanted to cry.’
‘Oh, Milly. The things you come out with. So, ironically, we’re lovers for real but still on course for self-destruction...’ He brushed his fingers over her nipple, which hardened in fast response. ‘Shall we think about how we do that while we rediscover each other again...? Or maybe we’ll have to do the thinking after the rediscovery has finished...because I guarantee you won’t be thinking when we’re making love...’
* * *
Lucas pushed himself away from his desk and restively strolled towards the bank of windows that overlooked the city. He was back in London, back in his towering office, back in the thick of it. This was his reality. The two-and-a-half weeks spent with his mother playing Romeo to Milly’s Juliet had been a mirage, flimsy and insubstantial, easily blown away after a fortnight. Then, business as usual.
So what the heck had happened?
He raked fingers through his hair frustratedly and silently cursed himself for letting things get out of hand. It was a mess. They had returned to London, his mother none the wiser that their relationship, whilst it had become physical, was just a sham. Marriage was not on the cards. Longevity was not on the cards.