A Second Chance at Love: A Hometown Hero Series Novel (19 page)

He pushed past her and strode into the apartment, dropping his keys and wallet on the side table, just as he always had done in the past.

Aurora stared at them in confusion. It was better than staring at him. Dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, he was impossibly, darkly, gloriously handsome.

“Leonardo?” She repeated, lifting her gaze reluctantly to his face.

“How are you feeling?” His voice made her stomach clench.

“Fine.” She looked down at the floor. “A little embarrassed, actually.”

He nodded. “As you should. You were in danger of behaving in a way you would truly be regretting now.”

“If you hadn’t stepped in?” She challenged.

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Believe it or not, I am capable of looking after myself. I haven’t seen you in three years. Do you think I’ve been wading into danger every night, waiting to be rescued?”

“I don’t give a shi… I don’t care how you’ve been spending your time.”

She crossed her arms across her chest, then realised it drew attention the vast expanse of skin exposed by the low cut nightgown she wore. She uncrossed them and formed fists by her side. “Then why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He demanded fiercely. “Why am I here?”

He stalked back down the hallway and pulled her into his arms, kissing her lips hard. His hands pushed at her nightgown, lifting the hem, exposing her lace underpants and naked breasts. He broke the kiss for the briefest of moments, long enough to discard her nightgown and toss it to the floor.
“Why do you think I am here?” He lifted her easily, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her through the apartment, to her bedroom. He threw her down and ripped off his own shirt, then stepped out of his jeans.

She opened her mouth to say something but he kissed her again before she could voice any words. “Don’t speak,” he muttered, running his hands desperately over her body. “God, you would have gone home with that barman last night, wouldn’t you? He would have been doing this now, instead of me, wouldn’t he?”

She shook her head from side to side. “I wasn’t myself.”

“You drank too much. You made yourself vulnerable.” He rolled one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed it hard, sending little arrows of pain and pleasure shooting through her body. “You should know better than to put yourself at risk.”

“What do you care?” She groaned as he lowered her underpants down her long legs, and ran his hands over her calves.

“You were mine once. I don’t like the idea of you giving yourself away to whoever throws their cap into the ring.”

Aurora groaned, as his mouth pressed kisses along the length of her legs, to the apex of dark curls between her thighs.

“I’m not. I wasn’t.” She tossed her head back, her fingers pressed into his shoulders as his mouth began to send her spiralling out of control.

“Apparently you do still like to be kissed here,” he murmured, as her whole body began to shake and convulse with pleasure.

“What are we doing, Leo?” She whispered, as coherent thought became almost impossible.

“Laying a ghost to rest,” he responded, standing up and staring down at her. He paused only to protect them and then he straddled her. He entered her swiftly, with a soft groan, as she took his length and arched her back, crying out at remembered sensations.

There was no love. No romance. Nothing sensual. Just pure, passionate sex. Animalistic urges overtook every shred of good sense, and led them to come together as one. She trembled in his arms as she tipped over the edge into a pleasure abyss, and he chased after her, releasing a guttural oath as he found release in her.

He stood almost immediately afterwards, and swore.

Aurora felt just as surprised. Shock made her numb. “What the… What the hell just happened?” She pushed up on her elbows and grabbed for a sheet, her blue eyes wide with surprise.

“Don’t bother with the false modesty,” he ground out sarcastically. “I know you too well.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand… you don’t even like me.”

“You seem to understand perfectly,” he contradicted smoothly, unknowingly striking a knife into her chest.

“I mean it, Leonardo. We haven’t seen each other in three years. We’ve both moved on. Why did you come here?”

“Because you invited me to last night, and once you suggested a… reunion of sorts, I found I couldn’t put the idea from my mind.”

“You said you didn’t find me desirable anymore. Last night. You said that.”

“I guess I was wrong.”

She closed her eyes and lifted a hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe this happened.” She stood up and reached for her robe. Her fingers were shaking, her head was throbbing.

“It happened.” His nod was grim. “You can think of it as the goodbye we never had.”

“Goodbye?” She repeated numbly, tightening the belt of her robe.

“Yes.” He put his hands on his hips, uncaring that he was completely naked. “You left me when I was in hospital. After two years, at the first bump in the road, you got up and left.” His bitterness was obvious. “I actually thought you loved me, and not the lifestyle.”

“I did love you,” Aurora stuttered, shocked at his opinion of her. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you.”

“Oh, right. So what? You decided that the best way to express your love for me was to leave me a ‘Dear John’ note while I was knocked out on painkillers in hospital?”

“No.” She shook her head, biting down on her lower lip. “I’m sorry about the note. That was wrong. I couldn’t face you. I was so angry with you, Leonardo.”

“Angry with me? What for? Doing everything you ever goddamned wanted? Adoring you senseless? Wanting to marry you?”

“For getting yourself just about killed!” She yelled, her body shaking from the raw feelings that were flooding back to her. “For just about dying on that race track. And wanting to get out there and do it all again.”

He stood perfectly still, his eyes flecked with resentment. “Racing has been my life since I was a teenager. You knew that about me when we started dating. If you had truly loved me, you would not have expected me to change.”

Tears pricked her eyes and she spun away from him to conceal her sadness. “I didn’t expect you to change. At least, not for me. But I knew I couldn’t sit around waiting for the day you wouldn’t be so lucky.”

“Lucky?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I have metal pins in one knee and one hip. I was hardly lucky.”

“You could have died!” She roared, not attempting to monitor her volume. “Your car was in flames. Do you have any idea how that felt? To watch you careen out of control and ram into a wall of concrete?”  She shuddered at the memory. “You should have been dead. That you survived was nothing short of a miracle. And then the first thing you said when you came out of that coma was that you couldn’t wait to try out the track again. To nail that bend.”

He was quiet as he listened to the words she’d never said to him before. They were threatening to crack the hard shield he’d developed where Aurora Jones was concerned. “You were right to leave me,” he said, finally, his voice cold. “I would never give up racing. Not for you, not for anyone. Obviously that’s a commitment you can’t understand.”

Her heart felt like it was dying. “I know.”

“So what? You decided that you’d quit modelling and start partying professionally instead?”

She straightened her shoulders and held herself tall. “What I’ve been doing since then is none of your business.”

He looked at her back, and made one of the hardest decisions of his life. “You’re right. Thanks for the walk down memory lane, S.B. It’s been fun.”

His use of his old nickname for her was the final straw. S.B. Sleeping Beauty, the Disney princess she had been named for, by a mother who’d brought Aurora up to love fairy tales and magic. But life was no fairy tale, and magic didn’t really exist.

She waited until she heard her front door slam and then gave into the full torrent of emotions that were ripping through her. Angry, hot tears slid down her pale cheeks. She stared up at her ceiling and sobbed, until she was exhausted. She lay down in her bed, but it smelled like him. Masculine and spiced, like an alpine forest.

She made a sound of frustration and ripped the sheets from the bed, balled them up in her fists and tossed them out towards the lounge area. She grabbed a fresh set and made up the bed, wishing she could erase her memories of Leonardo just as easily as she had his masculine cologne from her bed.

* * *

“Why don’t you call him? He thinks you’re gorgeous,” Beatrice said with a smile, topping up her friend’s tea.

Aurora wrinkled her nose. “Alec’s nice.” She shrugged. “Maybe just a little too nice.”

Beatrice laughed. “What’s ‘too’ nice?”

“I’m not cut out for relationships, Bea. You know that. I’d chew someone like him up for breakfast.”

Beatrice levelled her best friend with a considering gaze. “We’re twenty four now, not nineteen. It’s not weird for you to admit that you might like a guy. Why are you so determined to stay footloose and fancy free?”

Aurora coloured.  Out of nowhere, the image of Leonardo flashed into her mind. “I’m not determined to do any such thing. I just don’t think he and I would work, in a relationship.” She sipped her tea, not caring that it almost burnt her tongue. “I’d break his heart. He’s too nice for me. Too kind. Too thoughtful.”
Too weak
, she thought with a small sigh. Her most successful relationship had been with a man she daren’t think of again. A man who had overruled her with his strength, but had broken her heart because of his stubbornness. And she hadn’t seen him in over a month. Hadn’t heard so much as a peep from him since that morning they’d fallen into bed together and had steaming hot sex. And yet she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

But Beatrice was not easily dissuaded. “You’re nice. You’re sweet.”

Aurora rolled her eyes and leaned across the table, her expression beseeching. “Come on, Bea. You know me better than that. I’m so not nice. I’m practically a guy when it comes to dating. The quicker I can get out of a relationship the better. Don’t wish me on Alec. He deserves to meet someone a little more… domesticated.”

“Domesticated?” Beatrice laughed so hard that her mimosa spurted out of her mouth, coming dangerously close to drenching her pristine white Donna Karan pants. “This is the twenty first century. The closest thing Alec probably wants to a domesticated woman is one who’s prepared to be tied up with the cord of an iron.”

Aurora grinned despite her discomfort. “Look, I know you’re all loved up and so therefore want everyone you care about to fall into a state of equal romantic pleasure, but I’m not your girl. You know I don’t have any trouble meeting guys. Why don’t you just let me make my own way in the world?”

Beatrice tapped the tabletop with her fingertips. “Because your way sucks. You haven’t been with a guy in forever, and before that, you were dating anything that moved.” She shrugged. “You’re all over the place, and I know you’re not happy.”

“Not happy?” Aurora pulled a face, but inside, her heart was racing. Keeping a constant façade up around her best friend was exhausting at the best of times, but nevermore so than under one-on-one scrutiny such as this. “I have my dream job. I’m not responsible to anyone. I can do what I want, when I want to. Did it ever occur to you, Bea, that I’m happy not to have to apologise to some guy for staying out late? For wandering the National Gallery all day on a rainy Saturday just because it’s what
I
want to do?”

“When do you ever just wander around the National?” Beatrice asked sceptically.

“Last weekend!” Aurora let out a noise of frustration. “I’m happy for you and Pete. I really am. But stop trying to fix me up. And not with Alec. Not with anyone.”

Beatrice waved her fingers above her head, heralding a waiter. “Another mimosa, please.”

“Champagne,” Aurora muttered, getting increasingly impatient with her friend’s haranguing. “And even if I was interested in dating – which I’m not – why in God’s name would Alec be the man for me? “

“He’s a really great guy.”

“I’m sure he is!” Aurora nodded. “But he works in finance. I was a model, and now I’m a fashion blogger. I know everything there is to know about viscose rayon and dresses cut on the bias; I can tell you the eighteen shades Givenchy will be featuring at this year’s fashion week, but the closest thing I can tell you about Dow Jones is that he probably shouldn’t wear beige at his age.”

“You’re deliberately dumbing yourself down. You got a scholarship to one of the best schools in the country.”

Aurora scowled. “I am not dumbing myself down. Did you hear me? I know everything there is about viscose rayon! Come on, that’s a gift.” She smiled unevenly. “Just leave it, Bea. For once, just leave it. I’m your best friend, and all I want right now is to focus on your amazing wedding. This is the day of your dreams, so let’s just talk tulle and tulips and drink champagne until your parents get here.”

“And Leonardo,” she said with a nod. “And no tulips. Peter’s allergic.”

“What?” Aurora felt as though her ears were filled with singing birds; a high pitched noise signalling, perhaps, a fall from great altitude, was buzzing in her brain.