Page 6 of Second Chance Christmas

“I’m not going to make you anything,” she retorted. “You’re nobody to me, Leonardo. You’re just…some guy I thought I knew a very long time ago.”

His breath hissed from his lips in a sharp exhalation. Her hair lifted, then brushed against her forehead, so she moved her hand to push it away, but his fingers curled around her wrist, drawing her hand back down to her side. His fingers began to stroke the soft flesh there and she trembled without meaning to.

“Leonardo,” she whispered, intending to ask him to stop, but his name emerged as more of a plea, her eyes lifting to his, her lips parting on a small sigh.

“You might hate me for what I did to you. You might never forgive me. But I am not—and never will be—nobody to you.” And then, he kissed her, and all the pieces of Cassidy’s life exploded, so she was bursting at the seams.

His body was just as big and powerful as she remembered, his strength raw and virile, so when he shifted, just a little, he pushed her back against the kitchen bench, his strong legs on either side of hers forming a sort of cage, his body almost supporting hers, so his mouth could explore hers at his leisure, his hand holding hers down, while his other hand lifted and tangled in her hair. He kissed her deeper, his tongue sliding into her mouth, dueling with hers, as his body pushed forward, and she whimpered, because it had beenso longsince she’d been kissed in a way that made her feel anything other than fear.

It had been so long since she’d felt this kind of heat and pleasure, this kind of anticipation. Her whole body was on fire, her nipples tingling against her bra, heat pooling between her legs, so she found herself pressing further forward, against him, lifting one leg a little to run her knee up his in-seam, towards his arousal.

“Cristo,” he groaned, pulling away from her, staring down at Cassidy as if for reassurance, for an answer to a question he hadn’t posed, and then, it was like she’d just killed a cat or something. His whole face changed, his skin turned ashen, and he took a step back faster than anything. “You’re crying.”

Cassidy looked at him without computing at first, then lifted a hand to her cheek and felt the moisture there. Shewascrying, but not out of sadness.

Once upon a time, many years ago, she’d thought herself a sexual person, but then Leonardo had cheated on her, and what she’d once viewed as the most special form of euphoria a person could enjoy had been tainted and ruined.

Grant had been an aberration. She’d gone to a party, drunk too much, and the rest was history.

To rediscover this part of herself after so many years was the Christmas gift she hadn’t know she needed.

She wanted to explain, but where to begin? “I’m—,”

“I’m sorry,” he said, stiffly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I thought you were—I got carried away. That shouldn’t have happened.”

She could see how bad he felt about it, and she knew, no matter how much she hated him, that he had a right to know she’d been a very willing participant.

“It’s not you,” she said. “It’s—my husband—my divorce—it’s been…”

“Right, of course.” It was like the flicking of a switch. The look of apology and remorse in his features was replaced by a cold expression of understanding. Business like, formal: conversation closed.

And while Cassidy knew she should have felt relieved, she didn’t. The truth was, she just wanted more of that kiss.

Three

SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHEN her dad had learned to cook. She’d always presumed it was after her mum had died, but maybe he’d cooked even before that? In any event, Harry Walton could make roast turkey better than anyone she’d ever met, and he made it look easy. As they sat down to eat and Harry carved, and the guests chatted, and Cassidy sipped champagne, she wanted to sit back and enjoy this moment of festive joy, to look around the room at the sparkling tree and the numerous garlands—Harry had always made Christmas special and this dinner of his, a week ahead of Christmas Eve, was somewhat of a tradition amongst his friends.

But it was almost impossible for Cassidy to enjoy it. Because sitting directly opposite her was Leo. And while it had been bad enough before, now they were eye to eye, toe to toe, and all she could think when she happened to glance in his direction was how good it had felt to be kissed by him. How awakened. How much he’d reminded her of the pleasures she’d once enjoyed freely, courtesy of his skill and generosity.

Memories of their first time together flooded her, the newness of it for both of them, the discovering, learning, teaching, vocalizing their likes so each became the perfect partner to the other…at least, that’s what she’d thought. And then, he’d gone out into the world as the hottest football recruit of the year and she’d lost him to all that glamour and fanfare.

She locked her jaw and forced herself to focus on the conversation down the other end of the table, rather than risk looking in Leo’s direction again. Leo’s father Paolo was holding fort, and she was reminded of the similarities between the two. Strong, interesting, charismatic. She sighed, felt her skin tingle and glanced across at Leo, to find his eyes resting on her face with a contemplative frown.

It was a torturous night. Despite the exceptional food, the lovely company, she was distracted and exhausted. After a year of emotional lows, this was somehow one of the worst.

Not because Leo was there, but because of how different their relationship was now to what it had been then. How different it was to what she would have, in another world, wanted.

What she thought it would be.

Divorced, a single mother with an abusive ex-husband, blackmailed into staying quiet about the true nature of their horrific marriage or risk losing custody of Audrey. And now, sitting across from the only man she’d ever felt anything for, but knowing he was the only person who’d ever really had the power to hurt her. Not physically. Grant had been damned good at that. So skilled at knowing just where to inflict a wound for maximum pain and zero visibility when Cassidy was dressed.

Tears cloyed at the back of her throat and she blinked rapidly, but not before Leonardo saw the tell-tale moistening of her eyes and frowned. She wanted the night to be over, but there was still plum pudding and undoubtedly the national tradition of singing carols around the piano.

Cassidy took another sip of her champagne, trying to will away the tears, but the past was heavy, and she leaned closer to her dad. “I’m just going to go check on Audrey,” she murmured, not looking in Leonardo’s direction as she scraped back her chair.

She heard her father say, as she left the room, “First Christmas since the divorce. It was bound to be tough.”

Cassidy left the room before Leo could reply.

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