“This from the woman who showed up in a schoolgirl skirt today?”

“You said I looked like an assassin,” she said over her shoulder.

“The sexy kind from the free-love era. I was looking forward to engaging in hand-to-hand combat, but you got the advantage over me in other ways.”

She lost her sense of humor as she moved further into the stateroom. Like the rest of the jet, it was decorated in earthy colors and textures. The head of the bed was a huge, illuminated panel with the silhouette of bamboo plants cast from the backside, giving the impression the forest was just beyond a translucent window. Lamps stood on night tables made of faux granite, and the walls were paneled in mahogany.

“That was a joke,” he said in a low voice.

“I know.” But it was actually bothering her that she stood to gain anything from this baby, even a free flight to America. She had a dream, but she also had a heavy not-good-enough complex, thanks to years of stumbles and false starts. Shortcuts didn’t win. She’d learned that with the invitation debacle.

While she peered into the luxurious bathroom, Saint pressed a louvered panel, opening it to reveal drawers. He pulled blue satin pajamas from one and tossed them onto the bed.

“Oh. Um—”

“For you. I told them not to bother unpacking your suitcase.” His eyes were laughing at her again. “You’re tired, so I wasn’t planning to join you, but I am absolutely open to an invitation if you do want company.”

He had told her he wanted sex but didn’t expect it. She thought it was pretty obvious that she did expect it. Why else would she have agreed to go to New York with him? Yes, they had things to discuss about the baby, but she could have put her foot down.

She hadn’t because she had known from the moment she’d awakened in his bed three months ago that she would like to continue waking beside him. She’d been furious and upset with him when their brief involvement had forced her to flee London, but a barely acknowledged possibility had been dancing in her mind from the time she’d discovered she was pregnant. Their baby had given her a reason to see him and see. At her latest checkup, she had asked her doctor if she could have sex. She’d shaved her legs yesterday, knowing she would see him today.

But there was that other tender part of her that had taken a fresh hit when their brief association had turned her into a punchline again.

As Fliss bit her lip and stared at the pajamas with indecision, he said, “No? That’s fine.” He started to the door.

That hurt, too, that he was able to take it or leave it so casually when she was in such turmoil over whether to have sex and what it might cost her.

Ugh. If she didn’t tell him now, she never would.

“Saint.”

He paused. His expression was infinitely patient, but her heart started to beat faster. She swallowed, but the tension in her lungs remained.

“I think you should know that...” She looked past him to the door, feeling trapped, but even if she left this bedroom, she’d still be on a plane, thirty thousand feet over the Atlantic. “When I said I hadn’t been with anyone else...”

He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but she sensed his withdrawal. It was as though his body condensed into ice, dropping the temperature in the room.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” She scrunched herself into the corner beside the night table. “I mean, you probably thought I meant I hadn’t been with anyone lately and that’s true, but you’re actually only the second person I’ve ever been with. The first was six—no, seven?—years ago.” She winced with apprehension as she said it.

His brows crashed together as he tried to fit that detail into what he thought he knew about her.

“My...um...first boyfriend was mean to me.”

“In what way?” The gritty danger that entered his tone sent a chill down her spine.

“Not violent. Just...unkind. He pressured me to have sex with him even though I was on the fence about it. It wasn’t assault.” Fliss waved her hand, trying to forestall whatever masculine aggression was building behind that glowering, granite expression. “It was my choice but an immature one. I thought he wouldn’t like me anymore if I didn’t, and I wanted to find out what was so great about it. I didn’t get much of an answer,” she said in an aside of annoyed disgust.

“It was uncomfortable and unsatisfying. Maybe it would have gotten better with time. With someone else.” She folded her arms. “But I didn’t want to be intimate again because after we did it, he started bragging around school about it. I got mad and broke up with him, and he retaliated by telling everyone he had dumped me because I was giving it away to anyone who asked. I was only in our social group because I was with him. He was very popular, so when it came to picking sides, everyone chose the stud who’d been wronged over the slut who lied about it.”

Saint muttered a curse under his breath, eyes closing. “Then you had sex with me, and...”

“Yeah. That ruined a really nice night.” Her throat tightened, thinning her voice. Her chest was burning with self-consciousness. “I hadn’t felt like that with him. Like I really wanted sex.” Needed it. “I knew it would only be one night, but you seemed to know what you were doing and you were nice about it. You said we could stop if I wanted to. I thought it would be cathartic and something that was just for me. And you, obviously, but a nice memory that would replace my old one.”

Saint’s mouth was tight as he tracked his concerned gaze all over her. “I should have done more to protect you.”

“Oh, you think?” She couldn’t help her exasperated guffaw over that one.

“From the press,” he clarified, mouth sliding sideways with self-deprecation. “But yeah. Physically, too.”

“I didn’t tell you that to put a guilt trip on you.” She looked to the bed and the pajamas, barely resisting the urge to pick them up and press her nose into the cool satin to see if she could smell his aftershave. “I was trying to say that yes, I want to sleep with you, but I’m also scared of what comes after, if things don’t work out between us.”

“It will work out.” He came close enough to cup her elbows and draw her from the corner so she was right in front of him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

SAINT SPOKE AS though he meant it, so Fliss smiled as though she believed him.

Besides, she was growing overwhelmed by his closeness. Her hand found its way to his chest without her realizing it. Her fingertips tucked themselves behind the placket of his shirt between two buttonholes, and she tugged him closer while she lifted her mouth.

His breath hissed in at her unhesitating invitation. His head dipped, and his firm lips angled across hers.

At first contact, a sensual jolt pulsed through her, so strong it made her groan at the sting of it. Who cared if her life was destroyed by this? Touching him was life. He was hot and dynamic and pulsing with energy that shimmered into her, making her feel surrounded and safe and more alive than she ever had.

For three long months, she had been waiting to feel this way again, convinced she never would, but now she was back in this wondrous place where his lips moved over hers with controlled mastery. His palm slid up her arm to the back of her neck, cupping her head while he deepened the kiss at an achingly slow pace.

It was both soothing and inciting. Frustrating. Urgency was rising in her, making her run her hands around to his back so she could pull herself tighter against him.

“I was an animal last time,” Saint said, drifting his kiss to her cheek and brow. “You should have told me how long it had been. I would have been more careful.”

“I liked it.” He’d made her feel irresistible, and she wanted that rush again, maybe to reassure herself it was still there. Or that she held some of the power over him that he had implied, but even though she arched to press her pelvis into the stiffness behind his fly, he only made a sound of gratification and dragged at her hair so he could nuzzle his mouth against her throat.

“I’ve thought about you a lot. About that night.” His free hand skimmed the side of her breast, then climbed beneath the fall of her T-shirt to trace patterns against her waist and lower back, showering her with tingling sensations. “About all the things I would do with you if I ever got the chance again.” His hot words stimulated the hollow beneath her ear and stirred the fine hairs at her hairline. “The list is long, Fliss. Very, very long.”

She was hearing him on a subliminal level, all her senses drawing tight with anticipation while he only teased her with the brush of his lips on her throat and the unhurried movement of his hand creeping higher and higher toward her breast. By the time his thumb traced the under-band of her bra, she was trembling.

But Fliss had the wherewithal to say, “Don’t wreck it. I made it.”

He lifted his head. “This?” His clever fingers grew more exploratory, making her wriggle when his tickling touch went into her armpit.

“Yes. And you ripped the knickers I made—”

“I wanted to keep them, they were so sexy. Let me see.” He took hold of the hem of her T-shirt, forcing her to raise her arms, then skimmed it off and away. His gaze glittered with approval as he took in the jewel-colored scraps of silk, silver lace and black satin straps. “You made this?”

“I had to. I’ve already gone up a cup size.”

“Hell yes, you have.”

“Don’t look too closely.” Fliss touched a tiny wrinkle in the lace edging. “It’s full of mistakes. Lingerie is very finicky and unforgiving.”