Page 21 of A Winter Wedding Adventure
‘Don’t worry,’ she said peevishly. ‘I’m used to sharing dorms and tents and close quarters. It doesn’t matter to me if you saw my bra.’
His breath hitched audibly again and he mumbled something inarticulate. It might have been fun toying with him, teasing him for making a big deal out of attraction, but in truth, she was frustrated.
These vibes had nowhere to go except the bedroom and she couldn’t exactly drag opera boy to the room she was sharing with Ginny and work these feelings out of their systems while she was supposed to be assisting with the wedding.
Even if an improbable opportunity presented itself, she didn’t particularly want to educate Mattia about attraction and sex without affection – leaving out that ‘something’ that he’d obviously shared with his ex, that Kira wasn’t interested in.
But just thinking about his liquid eyes on her made her skin sensitive and started a warm heat inside her – a pleasant, smooth, gratifying heat – and the wedding suddenly felt a lot more complicated.
8
Mattia couldn’t look at her without remembering, even though he felt faintly impolite every time he did.
She asked him if he was warm enough and instead of answering, he caught a glimpse of the strap of her white bra and then his brain populated the full image: no-nonsense cotton cups, plunging low.
‘Mmm-hmm,’ he managed, forcing his gaze away again.
‘The shuttle will be here within twenty minutes. The hotel is up in the hills and the road is inaccessible to normal traffic in the winter.’
‘Ah,’ he replied. Manners were too ingrained in him to keep conversing with her while he stared pointedly away and he turned back to her instinctively, this time catching the view of her collarbone in her gaping neckline. She was tanned, with a handful of freckles, and his eyes traced up along her neck before he’d realised what he was doing and choked.
She didn’t notice. A grimace darkened her features as she fiddled with the ends of material at the neckline of her blouse, eventually twisting them into an elaborate knot that made her look as though someone were keeping her captive and did not achieve the careless chic the design was made for.
He opened his mouth to say something, but she turned away, grumbling under her breath as she grabbed a toiletry bag and climbed back into the driver’s seat. He felt every swish of material over her body as strongly as the repetitive drip from a leaky faucet, except with a different set of overwhelming feelings.
Was this what happened to him when a strong woman was a little bit kind to him while they were stuck together for twenty-four hours? She thought he was a pain in the arse and he saw sunshine glowing out of her tanned skin.
She’d tipped down the rear-view mirror and swiped on some lipstick before he even realised what she was doing. The shade was too pale for her colouring. Taking a stick of mascara, he flinched when she carelessly applied it.
‘What?’ she asked, her voice short.
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re a terrible liar, opera boy.’
That’s what he was afraid of. He might blurt out how much he liked it when she called him ‘opera boy’.
‘I realise I’m doing a bad job with my make-up, but unless you’re willing to apply it for me, you can keep your opinion to yourself.’
‘I didn’t say anything!’
‘You’re vibing at me.’
He forced himself back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘I could do your make-up if you?—’
‘No! I realise you’d do a better job, but you’d also kill off my pride, so leave it.’
Forgetting he wasn’t supposed to, he stared at her as she slapped on some beige eyeshadow that was so offensive to his aesthetics, it hurt. ‘I like your pride,’ he said without thinking.
‘You’d better get your coat on,’ was all she said in response. Of course she wasn’t suffering from the same strange affliction he was, unable to take his eyes off her in the confined space, enjoying every sharp comment she made. She snapped the lid of her make-up case shut and zipped the toiletry bag violently closed. She didn’t look at him.
‘Can I at least—’ He’d raised his hands before the thought had fully formed in his mind.
She turned to him doubtfully, her brows drawing together as she took in his hands, hovering at the level of her shoulders. ‘What?’
He quickly unfastened the fabric at her neck, ordering himself to keep his touch light and his eyes up. The complex knot took some undoing, which tugged a smile onto his lips.
He was successfully ignoring his own lolloping heartbeat and the tight air around them until he caught sight of her swallowing – with some effort. His gaze slid to the movement of her pulse just below her jaw. Huh.
