She didn’t want him to go. Not yet.
They could do it once more. That would take the sting out of her words.
“When’s check-out?” she asked.
“A couple of hours. You can stay as long as you like. It’s all paid.”
“You aren’t going to stay for a while?”
Pierce paused in the doorway to the bedroom and looked back at her. “I thought we were done.”
“Another hour or two wouldn’t be in breach of our agreement.”
He took a deep breath and surveyed the room, obviously thinking. “I’m tempted.” His gaze locked with hers and she felt its weight as keenly as a touch. “I like being with you, Jacquie, and last night was great. But if we do it again, it’ll be about more than sex.”
“No, it won’t,” she said quickly. “Pure satisfaction. No more and no less.”
He crossed the floor and came to sit down beside her, as intense as she’d ever seen him. She almost squirmed beneath the weight of his gaze. “You’re kidding yourself. We passed pure satisfaction somewhere around two this morning. It was great because it was about more than sex.”
Jacquie shook her head. “No. It was great because it was one night, no limits, nothing held back. We put everything on the line for one night, and if we have another night, it will, by definition, be less.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I know so. It will diminish unless we begin a relationship and deepen our connection, and I refuse to do that.”
His eyes narrowed a little. “You’re very sure about the progression here.”
Jacquie took another bite of her pastry without tasting it, well aware that she had Pierce’s undivided attention. “Because I’ve been there and done that. The first time is always the most physically powerful time. I want to protect the magical night we had.”
“Even at the expense of sacrificing possibilities?”
“There are no possibilities. After that first night, if there is an after-that, it becomes about the emotional connection, the part we’ve agreed we’re not doing.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“How many relationships have you had?”
Pierce smiled. “If you don’t count one night or two, then none.”
“So, you know how to manage the night of romance, and you do it really well. You’re the perfect choice for a fling.” She realized once she’d said the words that he’d hear what she hadn’t said. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, not now.
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do. Tell me, Jacquie.”
She hesitated but Pierce leaned closer, giving her a hot look.
“Tell me,” he insisted. “I like to know exactly where I stand.”
She winced. “That even if I wanted a relationship, which I don’t, you wouldn’t be the man I’d choose.”
That visibly startled him. “Why not?”
“Because you don’t understand emotional intimacy and you don’t want any part of it. A relationship with you would be doomed. Physical pleasure would only take it so far.”
“I could argue with that.”
“You could. But the price of building a relationship would be more trust.”
“I trust you.”
He was determined to defend his side, which Jacquie could respect—but she knew he didn’t really understand her point. She spoke quickly, knowing exactly what would make her concerns clear. “No, not really. You don’t want to expose yourself and your secrets. Maybe that makes you feel vulnerable.”
“There are a lot of assumptions there.”
“Tell me about Drew’s death, then.” The words were out before she could think twice about the wisdom of uttering them. “Tell me about the scars on your arm. They’re connected, aren’t they?”
Pierce’s eyes flashed. He inhaled sharply and stood up, going to stand at the window. “No,” he said tightly. “Not that story.”
“But that’s the price. Don’t you see? There has to be emotional intimacy to continue and that means talking about your past and your feelings. It means opening the boxes and showing the other person what’s inside. It means exposing what’s hurt you in the past.”
Pierce glared at her. “Tell me about Mitchell’s death then.”
“I would, if we were starting a relationship but we’re not.” Even as she said the words, Jacquie wondered whether they were true. She’d never opened the Pandora’s box of her feelings about Mitchell’s choice and his death, because she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to pack it all up neatly again. She hadn’t had the luxury of grieving and healing twenty years before, and now, carrying on was a habit.
But that had precisely nothing to do with Pierce Aston.
“You said you were wildly in love.”
“We were. Head over heels.” Jacquie finished her coffee, avoiding Pierce’s gaze. She put down the cup on the table, then looked at him in challenge. “It’s two hours to check out. Once more or not?”
Nine
How could everything go to shit so fast?
Pierce turned away from Jacquie, a part of him incredulous that he was turning down her invitation. But he didn’t want a compromise. He didn’t want just sex.
Not anymore.
And he really didn’t want to be a substitute for the dead husband she’d loved beyond all reason. Did she still love Mitchell? Was that why she’d liked the blindfold? Had it let her pretend to be with the man she loved, instead of with him?
Pierce didn’t want to think about that, but he had to consider the possibility. He wasn’t one to flinch from unwelcome truths and that might be a big one.
She’d said that she and Mitchell had been deliriously happy, but Pierce had assumed that twenty years had diminished that. He’d hoped that she might want more than just sex, but she didn’t—and that meant he was making a mistake. He had to conclude that she and Mitchell had had that special connection, a one-in-a-million love, like he’d only seen once before.
It must be hell to lose that.
Whatever was between him and Jacquie was something Pierce had never felt before, something that should have sent him running—but instead, he was willing
