Page 77 of Tame Me

‘Your parents?’ She jerks a nod, answering before I do. ‘Ditto.’

Right, we have dysfunctional families in common too. ‘What is it you don’t like about me, Talia?’ I can’t believe I’ve asked.

‘You’re used to being in charge.’ She doesn’t deny it.

I bristle. ‘So are you.’

Her glance is pointed. ‘Not on the same level.’

Lukas cries and she goes to him before I can blink.

I make more arrangements. Sort flight schedules. Offload my over-full diary for the next couple of weeks.

Dinner is desultory. She glances at me a few times but doesn’t break the silence. I glance at Lukas and don’t know where to begin with him.

She takes him to bathe and get ready for bed and I don’t interfere. Given I’m going to need time away from the office, I draft a tonne of instructions. It’s late when I turn out the light and the house is silent.

Three hours later I’m lying there still wide awake when I hear him crying.

I get up and pull on my jeans. The house is warm enough not to bother with anything else. I step into the doorway and see her pacing around the small room with him. She looks exhausted. And beautiful.

‘Is it like this every night?’ I ask with clenched teeth.

‘He’s a little baby.’ She defends him with quiet ferocity. ‘He has no concept of time. And he’s hungry. He’s growing fast.’

There’s a proud tilt to her head. I didn’t mean to be critical, just curious. But we seem to read the worst into every interaction we have. I turn and stalk to the kitchen. Lukas can only keep growing like that as long as Talia is well rested and well-nourished herself. I grab a few crackers, slice cheese, slice an apple, make a milky hot chocolate and throw the lot onto a tray I find. It’s hardly pretty but it’s something.

I stomp—silently—back to the bedroom we’re using as his nursery. Now Talia’s curled up on the narrow bed and Lukas is in her arms. I clench my fists to ride out the urge to drop to my knees at her damned feet in awe and instead set the tray beside her so she can reach it easily.

‘I don’t need—’

‘Don’t,’ I say sharply.

She glances at me—equally sharply—and says nothing more.

I lean back against the wall and glare at her. She sighs heavily, rolls her eyes and grudgingly picks up a cheese-topped cracker. My muscles don’t ease any until she’s onto her third. She sips the warm milky chocolate.

Eventually she puts him back into the small bassinet. He stirs and she rests her hand on him for a moment of reassurance. Then she straightens and silently steps out of the room. I follow her. Before I think I reach out and take her arm, turning her to face me. In the dim light of the hallway her eyes are huge. They draw me in—so rich and unfathomable.

Desire engulfs me. Paralyses me. She basically hid my son from me. Because of her I’ve missed out on so much. But her soft skin is beneath my fingertips and I can’t resist stroking her lightly with my thumb. Just the once. I see her skin flush, hear her breathing race. Her response is instant—just like that night in the gondola.

I can’t speak. I just stare at her and inwardly battle the overpowering desire to pull her close and kiss her and touch her everywhere.

‘You don’t have to get up every time he cries,’ she mumbles.

Rejection. Denial. Again. It’s as aggravating as hell that she won’t let me help her.

‘You do.’ I flinch. ‘You have. For months.’

As she stares up at me something changes in her expression. Her whole body seems to tremble. ‘I’m sorry.’

The words I’ve been waiting for all day finally emerge from her but weirdly I don’t want to hear them. Notnow. Because they make me feel something—wantsomething—that I know in my bones is dangerous. I’m suddenly, sharply vulnerable. I cannot trust her. I cannot take her in my arms. But I’m so tempted. Frustration is an inferno.

‘Go to bed,’ I growl.

I release her too roughly. I almost push her away. I have to because in the next heartbeat I’d have hauled her close and damned myself.

Her swift steps are silent on the soft carpet. Her door closes with the faintest click. The speed with which she leaves me is both relief and agony.

---