He rose, face coming to mine. “I didn’t walk away from you that morning, Hope. I ran. Turned tail and ran.

My problem. But it won’t happen again.” His hand moved to the side of my face, fingers brushing my cheek. “I came back, and I’m staying.”

His mouth came down to mine. The kiss started slow, almost tentative, as if testing his welcome. When my hands went to the back of his head, it was like a watershed breaking. He grabbed me, and rolled us over, moving on top of me, his weight crushing in the most delicious way.

When I gasped, he thrust against me, all smoothness gone as he fumbled with the front of my jeans. He cursed, as if undoing a simple button was beyond him, as lust-clumsy as any teenage boy, and I was thrown back to that night in the pool, that first kiss igniting, Karl pulling back, struggling to be suave, to be gentle, to be a perfect lover, only to be swept up again and finally giving up, slamming me against the side of the pool. Brutally passionate and unforgettable.

And how many nights since then had I spent trying to forget it?

How many nights would I spend trying to forget this one?

When I broke the kiss, he hung there for a moment, panting. Then he looked down at me and blinked, and I knew he saw the truth, that I didn’t trust him. His lips curved in an oath.

He cupped my face, lowering his until he was so close I could see only his eyes. “It won’t happen again, Hope. It was my problem.”

“And that problem was…?”

“Later. I’ll explain it all later.” He brushed his lips against mine. “I need you. Now. Please.”

I shivered, eyelids fluttering. God, how many times had I dreamed of hearing that? I could look into his eyes, and see it. He wanted me. Desperately. And I had to talk about it first? Was I crazy?

I squeezed my eyes shut. If I said yes, I’d never get that explanation. Right now, he might honestly intend to give it, but come morning, he’d brush me off with a, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t about you.” That would be that.

Every morning after, if I went to sleep beside him, I’d worry he wouldn’t be there when I woke, because I didn’t know what drove him away the first time.

I opened my eyes. “I need to know now.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not now?”

A tightness in his voice turned the words into a query—or maybe a plea—and I sputtered a laugh.

He growled. “You have no respect for a mood, do you?”

I eyed him. Considered my options. Realized there was only one way I was getting my answers, as much as I hated to use it.

I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down in a kiss. His hands went to my shirt, and he had it out of my jeans and over my head so quickly, I barely realized we’d broken the kiss. A snap of the front clasp on my bra, then his thumbs tickled over my breasts as he pushed it aside.

His shirt started to follow, but I caught his hands and whispered, “Let me. Please.” I took hold of the hem, met his gaze and said, “Right after you tell me why you left.”

He let out an oath on a blast of chaos so sharp I arched my head back and shuddered.

“Like that, do you?” he said.

I grinned. “You know I do.”

“Damn you.”

“Mmm.” I nibbled the side of his neck. “Tell me more…like what you meant that morning.”

A growl and another string of obscenities.

I writhed under him. “Not bad. But it needs a little more venom. Say it like you mean it.”

“I wish I could. You have no idea, sometimes, how much I wish I could.”

He grabbed me in a kiss so hard, so rich with frustration, that had he reached for my jeans again, I wouldn’t have stopped him. Instead, he broke it off and sighed.

“You’re right,” he said.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Damn you.”

A moment’s silence. Then he rolled off me and propped his head up on his arm. I twisted onto my side to face him.

“This is going to take a while.”

“I’ve got all night.”

A noise, half sigh, half growl. “All right then. When I went to Europe, I planned to take you with me. I’d make it sound like a whim. A lark. Light and casual. Then morning came, and I realized you’d know it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision, and if I was telling myself it was light or casual…”

He shook his head. “I wanted to forget about it, but I couldn’t. So I told myself I’d mention the job, see your reaction when I said I was leaving.”

“See how crushed I was?”

A muscle in his cheek twitched at the coolness in my voice, but after a moment he nodded.

“And when I wasn’t upset enough, you had to keep pushing. See what did upset me. Not just flying off to Europe for a few days, but indefinitely…and maybe I should date other guys while you were gone. See if anything dug in enough to hurt.”

“Yes.”

I scrambled up. “You bastard.”

“Hope—”

“No.” I backed away. “You want brownie points for being honest? You hurt me just to see if you could, just to prove that I have feelings for you?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to see if I could get a reaction. I wanted a reaction. I wanted you to think exactly what you did—that you’d been seduced, that I was just as cold and self-serving as you’ve always suspected.

I wanted to walk away and close the door. Slam it, so I could never come back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either.”

He pushed to his feet and looked around, then settled onto the couch. I stayed on the floor, arms around my knees.

“I’ve never understood it,” he continued. “What happened that night at the museum. Why I helped you get away from Tristan and why, after I had helped, it was so hard to walk away. Why, even when I did, I couldn’t stay away.”

He shifted to see me better around the coffee table. “Not that I couldn’t understand the attraction. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re fun to be around. But I’ve been with beautiful women, smart women, fun women, and there wasn’t one I didn’t walk away from in the morning. I only ever felt a twinge of regret if I had to leave a piece of jewelry behind. At first, I told myself it was because you were a challenge. You weren’t interested in me and I wanted to change your mind. But even when I knew I could change your mind, I didn’t. Because, if I seduced you, then I’d have no excuse for coming back, and…” A pause. “I wanted the excuse.”