Читать книгу The Italian's Pregnant Prisoner - Maisey Yates - Страница 3

“What exactly are you proposing?” Charlotte asked, her words cool.

“I’ll make it very clear. I don’t care what you’ve been doing for the past five years. I don’t care what you do tomorrow, for that matter. I care about tonight. Tonight I want to make sure we finish what is between us. Tonight I want you in my bed.”

Rafe jerked back when trembling fingers touched his lower lip. The shock of it immobilized him. It had been so long since he had been touched. So he stood absolutely still as she traced his lower lip, his upper lip, mimicking what he had just done to her. She traced his jaw and then moved her fingers, featherlight, down the side of his neck, where they came to rest on his pulse.

“Unless you’re afraid of me,” she said, “then it appears I still have the same effect on you that I once did.”

He held her chin, keeping her still. “That may be. But one thing has changed. I do not love you, Charlotte. Quite the opposite. If I take you to my bed you will be giving yourself to a man who hates you. Though I wonder if that matters? Because it certainly doesn’t matter to me. I find that I want you regardless.”

“One night?” And this time a slight tremble worked its way into her words.

“Just one,” he responded.

She let out a long, slow breath that echoed in the corridor around them. “Okay. One night.”