BTW: I Love You (Mills & Boon M&B) (One Hot Fling - Book 1) (16 page)

‘But you wouldn’t be making love, would you?’ she said, her voice firm but fragile. ‘You’d be having sex.’

‘What does that mean?’ he rasped.

Her eyes opened and he tensed, seeing hurt and accusation.

‘I know what you went through,’ she said. ‘After your accident. That you couldn’t perform sexually for a while.’

Horror came first, followed swiftly by denial. ‘What?’ he croaked.

She straightened, squared her shoulders as if she were gathering her courage. ‘You never really cared for me at all, did you? This was always just about the sex.’

He could hear the unhappiness in her voice, see the aching vulnerability in her eyes, and the terrifying abyss widened to an enormous chasm beneath his feet.

Maddy saw him recoil, his face blank with shock before the shutters slammed down.

‘What exactly am I supposed to say to that?’ he said, his voice hoarse.

‘That you
do
care about me?’ she said wearily, but the last lingering flicker of hope had already guttered out. He probably did care about her. But it would never be enough. Not if she had to beg him to admit it.

‘For God’s sake, Maddy, stop being melodramatic. Of course I care about you. Believe me, the sex wouldn’t be as good as it is if I didn’t.’

She let out a hollow laugh. How could she have been so blind? So foolish? Hadn’t she learnt anything from watching her mother go through this same charade throughout her childhood? Debasing herself to get something from her father which he had never been capable of giving her.

‘You really don’t get it, do you?’ she murmured, incredulous at her own stupidity. She blinked furiously, struggling not to let the misery engulf her.

The whole time they’d been together in Cornwall, they’d never even gone out together. All they’d really done was make love in almost every spare minute they had. In the past few weeks, ever since she’d realised how deep her feelings were, she’d deluded herself into believing that those long, lazy, seductive
evenings had been a sign of their growing intimacy, their burgeoning love. But they hadn’t been. Not for him.

‘Don’t get what?’

‘That I’ve fallen in love with you, Rye.’

He dropped her arm as if he’d been burned. ‘That’s insane. Why would you do that?’

Because I thought you needed me. As much as I needed you.

The words burned in her throat but she refused to say them. What would be the point? She’d seen the flash of horror in his eyes at her admission and all the hopes and dreams she’d nurtured so foolishly had finally died.

‘I have to go,’ she whispered through jerking breaths, her lungs screaming with the effort to hold back the flood of tears.

He’d used her, but she’d let herself be used. And for that she had to take some of the blame.

But, as she turned to leave, he clamped his hand onto her wrist. ‘You don’t love me, Maddy. You just think you do. You don’t even know me.’

She pulled her hand out of his. ‘I know you better than you think.’ She drew a gulping breath. ‘I know you use sex to replace intimacy. I know you refuse to let me get close to you. And I know you’d rather push me away than admit you need me.’

She walked to the door on unsteady legs.

‘I’m not pushing you away,’ he shouted. ‘I want you to stay, damn it.’

Keep breathing. You can get through this.

‘Maddy, come back here. Did you hear what I said? I want you to stay.’

She opened the door, refused to look back at him. ‘And I want you to love me,’ she said. ‘But I know you can’t.’

Ignoring the angry shout as he tried to follow her, she picked up her skirts and fled.

MADDY waved the local cabbie off, so exhausted she felt as if her bones were about to melt.

Seeing a dim glow coming from the cottage’s living room, she thanked whatever stroke of fate had made her forget to turn off one of the lights when she’d left in such a hurry what felt like a lifetime ago—but had only been sixteen days.

Walking into the empty house now was going to be hard enough; doing it in darkness would probably destroy what little control she had left. She’d spent the night in Cal’s spare room in Hampstead, fielding his barrage of questions about what the hell had happened to her and why she had only a ball gown on and no luggage. The ten-hour journey home on two different trains wearing the too-tight sweater dress one of Cal’s many girlfriends had left behind hadn’t helped to stabilise her mood one bit.

Reaching for the key tucked into the eaves that she left in case of emergency, she resolutely refused to worry about how she was going to get her stuff back from Rye’s penthouse. Or how she was going to explain her disappearing act to Ruth. Surely in a couple of days she’d have recovered enough of
her composure to contact Ruth and Rye’s PA. Contacting Rye wasn’t an option. Her lip quivered and she bit into it.

Nearly home. Nearly safe. Don’t you dare fall to pieces now. Not when you’ve managed to keep it together this long.

One thing she’d learned from this whole experience—she was stronger than she had ever imagined. If she could survive this much humiliation and heartache, she could survive anything.

She searched for the key for another few seconds with no luck. Then tried the door out of habit. To her astonishment, it opened.

The fact that she’d been foolish enough to leave her front door unlocked for over a fortnight didn’t astonish her for long, though. Wasn’t it just another sign of how comprehensively she’d failed herself over the past month?

She shrugged off the coat Cal had lent her in the entrance hall and entered the darkened sitting room.

Her steps halted and fear lanced through her at the sight of the fire flickering in the hearth.

‘Hello, Madeleine. You took your time.’

Her head whipped round as her heart punched her ribcage. The ball of agony grew in her chest, pressing against the unshed tears that had been scalding her throat since yesterday.

‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered, watching as he levered himself out of the armchair.

He looked tall and indomitable, his head skimming the ceiling beams as he made his way towards her, the light from the fire casting his face into shadow. The purpose in his stride wasn’t diminished in the least by the slight hitch in his gait.

Panic came first, followed swiftly by shock as he spoke. ‘I’ve come to tell you I love you.’ His voice sounded husky, rough with emotion.

But as her heart leapt wildly into her throat, her head registered the truth.

‘Don’t say that.’ She wanted to flee again. But she could barely stand, her legs weak, her knees shaking. And, anyway, where could she flee to? He was in her home, would always be in her heart. This time she had to stand and fight. ‘Don’t lie to me,’ she finished.

She shoved him as hard as she could, but still he stepped forward and took her arm to pull her close. ‘I’m not lying.’

Her hands clenched into fists as the tears she’d been fighting back so valiantly coursed down her cheeks. ‘I don’t believe you.’ Her fists pummelled his chest as she hit out to halt the humiliation, to stop the agony.

‘Stop it, Maddy.’ His voice cracked as he stifled the last of the futile struggle against his chest.

Gulping sobs racked her body. ‘Why did it have to be you?’ she whispered through jerky sobs, his arms holding her as her body quaked. ‘I didn’t even believe in love.’ The last of the anger drained away to leave only the agony.

‘Don’t cry.’ His voice seemed to come from a million miles away, his hand stroking her hair. For a brief moment she felt comforted and secure, but then reality froze her.

She struggled out of his arms, swiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘I want you to leave now.’ She’d felt the evidence of his arousal against her belly—and her own traitorous response. ‘I know why you’re here,’ she said, rigidly polite. ‘And it won’t work. I know you can’t love me and I know why. And saying you do won’t get me back into your bed, so there’s no reason for you to pretend.’

The slashing pain came first, slicing cleanly through the last of Rye’s defences. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, to yell at her that he couldn’t control his response to her, that he’d never been able to control it. And that he’d been to hell and back in the last twenty-four hours. But he knew every
last second of agony he’d suffered had been his own fault, not hers.

The cruel humiliation of seeing her run away from him, his lame leg making it impossible to catch her. The frantic phone calls to discover her whereabouts. The desolation of turning up at the cottage to find the place empty. The knowledge that he’d thrown away the only thing he’d ever needed in his life because of his own cowardice. And now the accusation that he would lie about his feelings for the sake of sex.

Had he really believed that simply telling her he loved her would make up for all the mistakes he’d made? For the way he’d used her and continued to use her and refused even once to confront the truth about how he felt about her?

He deserved her scorn. He deserved her contempt. But, however guilty he felt, it didn’t mean he was going to give up without a fight. He’d been waiting for close to six hours in the cottage, alone, trying to figure out a way to make amends for what he’d done. Everything from kidnap to blackmail to throwing himself on her mercy and hoping for the best had been considered. The only strategy that hadn’t was letting her go.

She’d said she loved him. And he was going to hold her to that, no matter what. One huge advantage he had in his favour, and which he clung to now like a life raft in a storm-tossed sea, was that Maddy had more compassion than any person he knew. It was probably why she’d been foolish enough to fall for him in the first place, and he was banking on it being her downfall now.

She’d have to forgive him. Because she was too good a person not to.

‘What makes you think I can’t love you?’ he asked.

Her lip trembled but she held painfully still. Guilt churned in his stomach but he refused to relinquish eye contact, to let her off the hook.

‘It’s not that you can’t; it’s that you won’t let yourself.’

He nodded. ‘And what makes you think that?’

‘I don’t think that. I know it.’ Her shoulders slumped and he noticed the dark smudges under her eyes, the pallor of her skin in the flicker of firelight. He wanted to gather her in his arms, to take her to bed and burn away her distress. But he couldn’t take the easy way out. Not again.

He needed to listen to her this time. And then tell her the truth. And hope like hell she still loved him once she realised how wrong she’d been.

He nudged up her chin, brought her gaze to his. ‘What do you know, Maddy?’

‘That you never recovered from losing your parents. That the loss still haunts you. And that you’ve never let anyone get close enough to mean that much to you again.’

As she said the words, Maddy saw the flash of raw grief on Rye’s face and understood something she’d been trying really hard not to admit. She’d wanted to believe this mess was his fault as well as hers. But was it really? He’d never asked for anything from her except physical pleasure, something he’d given back tenfold. She was the one who had insisted on moving the goalposts—on wanting more from him than he had ever been willing to give. And by not telling him how she felt, by not giving him the chance to set her straight, she’d brought all this misery on herself.

‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out. He had never wanted her to fall in love and, as much as he’d manipulated her, he’d never lied to her about that.

He frowned, focused on her. ‘Sorry for what?’

She wiped the errant tears off her cheek. ‘I tried to make this something it isn’t. You never …’

‘Don’t,’ he said, touching a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t do that.’

‘Don’t do what?’ she said, confused by the curt command.

‘Don’t make excuses for me.’ He ran unsteady fingers through his hair, then swore softly. ‘I don’t deserve it. If anyone needs to say sorry here, it’s me. Not you.’ He lifted her hand and pressed his lips into her palm. ‘Maddy, it wasn’t the loss I couldn’t get over. It was the anger at the pointless way they died.’

She tilted her head, hopelessly baffled by the self-loathing in his voice. ‘I don’t understand.’

He threaded his fingers through hers and held on. ‘I should tell you what happened.’

She shook her head. She’d tried to make him relive this once already for her own selfish reasons. She wasn’t prepared to do it again. ‘You don’t have to tell me, Rye. It was never any of my business.’

‘Yeah. It is.’ He gave a rueful smile, confusing her even more. ‘My father had an accident on his board.’ He ducked his head but she could hear the tension in his voice. ‘It was a World Championship Competition; he wanted to qualify for the top league.’ His eyes met hers, the grief so intense it took her breath away. ‘She begged him to be careful. But he didn’t listen. He took a stupid risk, wiped out against a reef and broke his neck.’

‘Rye, please—’ she tightened her grip ‘—don’t do this. You don’t have to.’

‘Yeah, I do.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. ‘She took an overdose of sleeping pills three weeks later. But really it was like she was already dead. She left me a note. You want to know what it said?’

She flinched at the bitterness in his voice, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘What?’

‘Sorry. That’s all it said. Sorry. Like that was going to make up for leaving me.’

‘Please, Rye. I didn’t mean to bring all that …’

‘I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you so you’ll understand something. They were selfish people. They loved me, sure. But they always put themselves first. And I’ve done the same damn thing to you.’ He looked at her and the tenderness she saw made her heart stop. ‘And it’s taken me forever to see it.’

‘That’s not true,’ she said, automatically leaping to his defence. ‘You did what you had to do to protect yourself. You were just a little boy.’

‘But I’m not a little boy any more,’ he said, interrupting her. ‘And I haven’t been for a long time.’ He rested his hands on her hips. ‘The truth is, losing them the way I did became a convenient excuse to have everything I wanted without risking anything in return.’ He touched his forehead to hers and sighed. ‘You want to know what’s really ironic?’

She blinked, still baffled, but at the same time oddly elated. The shutters had lifted. She’d never seen Rye so open, had never even thought it was possible.

‘Yes, I would,’ she said softly.

‘Because I kept getting away with it. Because I came out of each relationship unscathed, I always thought I’d be able to choose—who I cared about and how much. And then you came along and suddenly I didn’t get to choose.’

Was that gratitude she could see in his eyes or something more?

‘I wanted to be with you all the damn time,’ he continued. ‘And you were right, I wanted to make that all about the sex and nothing else.’ A rueful smile tilted his lips. ‘But it was never that simple. Was it?’

‘Not for me,’ Maddy murmured.

‘The only difference is,’ he added, ‘you had the guts to admit it. And I didn’t.’

The sensual grin spread, making heat pulse at her core and warmth wrap around her heart. He paused to take a deep
breath. ‘I do love you, Maddy. In fact, I think I’ve loved you for weeks. But I was too scared to say it. Even to myself.’

‘Oh!’ she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips, tears of emotion pricking the back of her eyes. ‘Do you really mean it?’ she said, and immediately felt like an idiot.

What was she trying to do—ruin her big romantic moment?

But he didn’t look offended or even surprised; his grin just got bigger. ‘I do if you do.’

She sprung up on tiptoe and flung her arms around his neck. ‘You know I do.’

He chuckled, his arms holding her as she dampened his shirt collar with happy tears.

‘I brought a nice bottle of Chablis with me, in the hope that I could persuade you to give me another chance,’ he murmured, his hot breath brushing her ear lobe. ‘How about I open it?’

She giggled, rejoicing in the feel of him swelling to life against her midriff. ‘Only if you promise to drink it naked.’

He laughed, then gripped her tight and lifted her off the ground.

Her delighted peals of mirth mingled with his husky chuckles as he spun her round, then lost his balance and tumbled them both onto the sofa.

The last of their laughter subsided as he brushed her hair back and framed her face. ‘I will if you will,’ he said, the tender promise shining in his eyes.

‘Oh, all right, then,’ she whispered, struggling to fake a frown. ‘If you insist.’

And, much to her everlasting joy, he did.