“And what truth is that?” She tried to sound joking but couldn’t quite manage it. His words hit too close to home. Again, he took a long time to answer.
“That you’re sad, for one thing.” He reached out and brushed messy, damp hair from her face. It was a gentle gesture, but it sent a spark of electricity through her. “What does a devastatingly beautiful Nordic woman who can throw grown men around and play piano arrangements of Saint-Sa?ns have to be sad about?”
Something in Mae tightened, and she suddenly had to fight an overwhelming urge to tell this handsome stranger about everything: her father, Porfirio, the pr?torians, the recurring sense of an inexplicable force controlling her…. Instead, she smiled at something he’d said. “You know Saint-Sa?ns.”
“Of course I know Saint-Sa?ns.” The tone of his voice implied it would be ludicrous if he didn’t. “You’re trying to dodge answering.”
“Will you answer the same question? Why are you sad?”
Because he was. She hadn’t noticed it right away, not until he’d called her out. He’d been all charisma and wit tonight, and that disarming smile and the rest of his looks had done a good job at keeping her distracted by what was outside rather than within. But she could see it now as he studied her so intently: a melancholy inside him that resonated with her own. She expected him to respond with a quip, but he answered in all seriousness.
“I’m sad because you remind me of home.” He dropped his hand from her and sighed. “Because you’re beautiful and bright and dynamic and a whole lot of other things I haven’t seen for a long time…and won’t see again any time soon.”
Mae rested her hand on his. She felt an ache in her chest for the pain she sensed, even as the touch of his skin on hers again sent heat through her body. They’d barely known each other for two hours, but there was something about this man, who flipped effortlessly between charming and brooding, that drew her in. Mae had been adrift in her own life for the last few months, and being with him was the first steady moment she’d had in a very long time.
And yes, she wasn’t going to lie to herself about the effect he had on her physically. It was more than those dark good looks—not that those weren’t working too. It was his attitude, she decided. It was in the way he looked at her and flirted, with a confidence that was magnetic all on its own. Men like him get that self-assured because they know they’re good in bed, she thought. The chemicals of desire weren’t all that different from the ones that governed battle, and the implant, sensing the change in her, “helpfully” began increasing her body’s response. Maybe it was fitting. Sex and battle were each dangerous in their own ways.
“You’re talking like I’m already gone,” she told him at last.
“You will be,” he said.
“But I’m not.”
Mae leaned forward and found him already moving toward her. Their lips met and parted, and with that one kiss alone, she was lost. She couldn’t fix all of his problems any more than he could fix hers, but as she wrapped her arms around him and let him pull her body against his, she hoped that maybe when the night was done, they’d each have a few less problems weighing them down.
CHAPTER 4
EACH OTHER’S UNDOING
She was a dream made flesh, with a body even more exquisite than the fantasies his mind had conjured earlier. Her skin was alabaster and felt like silk, a soft contrast to the strong muscles he could feel when he ran his hand over one of her long, sleek legs. His athlete assessment hadn’t been far off. She was definitely someone who trained her body hard, but it hadn’t been at the cost of sensuality or femininity. She was still slim and lovely, with curves that he couldn’t keep his hands off of, and blue eyes that flirted with green.