He brought the car to a halt in La Mer’s circular back drive and looked over at Emma.

“I’m sorry she came,” he said simply. “I was shocked to see her sitting next to you.”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it,” she assured.

He reached over and grabbed her hand. She folded her fingers into his. Why did the way she curled up to him always strike him as so much sweeter than when anyone before had done it? “She doesn’t mean anything to me. You know that, right?”

She met his stare. “I know that firsthand. I was there, remember?” she asked softly.

He stiffened. Emma was right there, holding his hand. So why did he have the feeling she was drifting away from him? His gaze narrowed on her.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She must have noticed his doubtful expression. “I’m just really tired. I . . . I started my period this afternoon,” she said, grimacing slightly, her pale cheeks coloring. She gave him a reluctant glance. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Biology?” he asked, relieved that her being out of sorts wasn’t associated with something he could have controlled but hadn’t. She gave him a rueful smile. “Do you have difficult periods?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I just get tired and headachy on the first day. I’m usually okay by the second.”

He squeezed her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. How about a hot bath and a glass of wine?”

“Make it tea and it sounds like heaven.”

She padded barefoot out of the bathroom, wearing a short, pale blue button-up nightgown, pausing when she saw Vanni standing next to the bed. He folded back the sheet and comforter and motioned for her to get in.

“You’re being very sweet. I’m not an invalid, you know,” Emma told him amusedly. She’d thought the bath and cup of chamomile had made her sleepy until she walked into the bedroom and saw Vanni. It appeared he’d showered in the other bathroom. He wore a pair of black cotton lounging pants that hung low on his trim hips and a simple white T-shirt. He was barefoot. The hair around his neck was still damp.

Her entire body perked into instant awareness. He looked good enough to eat.

“I don’t think you’re an invalid. It wouldn’t hurt to rest, though. And for once, we have nothing else to do. For a whole week,” he added with a significant glance as she sat in the bed.

“A whole week. Amazing,” Emma murmured, staring out the open French doors to the sea in the distance. It was evening, and a cool breeze made the room very comfortable and ruffled the potted flowers on the terrace. She’d thought a lot about the concerns Astrid’s appearance had reawakened in her at the race. No matter how she dressed things up, she and Astrid were definitely in similar situations when it came to Vanni. The only difference was that Emma had his attention now. There would be someone else to follow her. She’d decided the wise thing would be to bail on this whole thing now, before she fell even further in love with him.

But the simple matter was, she wasn’t wise when it came to him. If she only had days to live, she wouldn’t hasten death. She’d cherish and savor every second she had.

It was the same for her in this thing with Vanni.

She turned toward him. “I’ll lie down for a bit if you come with me.”

“I was planning on it.”

She smiled at that and scooted over for him. After a moment, he spooned her from behind beneath the soft cotton sheet as both of them stared out at the terrace and the sea beyond.

“Are you cramping?” he asked quietly, opening his hand at her lower belly and stroking her soothingly. It felt sublime.

“Not much,” she said, caressing his forearm. She was being honest. She wasn’t so much cramping as she was suffering from a constricted, slightly achy feeling at her core. After several minutes, however, his stroking hand close to her pelvis and his long, hard body pressed so close to her backside evoked a different feeling than comfort. A thick, warm feeling settled in her sex. She felt his cock twitch against her backside and her stroking hand stilled.

“Was it a good day for you, Vanni?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“No. It was the best,” he said, continuing to stroke her with his magical hand. She wriggled her hips slightly.

“That feels good,” she said in a tight voice.

“Does it?” he asked, and she heard the pointedness of his tone.

“Very,” she said, her head still turned away from him.

“I’m sorry about starting my period. Bad timing. Your best day, and all,” she finished on a hesitant whisper.

“Today isn’t going to be ruined by something like that. Impossible.”

Her heart seemed to grow beyond its space in her chest. She turned her chin toward him. His elbow was bent and his head propped against his hand. Evening whiskers darkened his jaw. He looked down at her with a lambent stare, and she felt his cock swell behind the thin fabric of their clothing. Her lips parted to ask him . . . what, exactly? But then he was there, his mouth moving coaxingly over hers, shaping their flesh together, his tongue penetrating her lips.

“Do you want to make love?” she whispered when he lifted his head a moment later.

“Of course,” he said, as if that was a foregone conclusion. He studied her face for a moment. “If you do.”

“I do, but . . .”

His brow quirked in slight puzzlement when she faded off, but then understanding dawned. He began to stroke her again on the strip of skin just above her mons. She felt her clit pinch in acute arousal.

“I see. You usually don’t have sex when you’re on your period,” he said quietly.

“No. I don’t think most women want to, do they?” Emma asked, glad he’d put her dilemma into words. He gave her a bland expression. She laughed softly. “Oh, I see. Most women do with you.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he said soberly.

“What did you mean then?” she asked, not dissuaded from her initial belief—what woman wouldn’t want him, even on her deathbed?—but she was still curious.

“I meant,” he said, continuing to watch her as he lifted the hem of her nightgown, “that there are certain things that happen to a woman’s body when she’s on her period. If she feels up to it, it’s very good to take advantage of those things. Are you wearing a tampon?” he asked so matter-of-factly, she blinked. She nodded. Her eyes widened and she gasped when he burrowed a finger between her labia and began to rub and press on the sensitive flesh. “Do you feel that?” he murmured. “There’s increased blood flow to this area during your period. Climaxes can be much more powerful and frequent. Plus, orgasms can help alleviate the discomfort of cramps.”

“Really?” she managed because he was continuing to rub her. She bit her lip and flexed her hips slightly, feeling his erection, now full and heavy next to her ass. “Never mind,” she gasped as pleasure and arousal inundated her. “I see what you mean.”

A smile shadowed his lips. “Your body is so sensitive. I’ve been looking forward to this . . . to seeing whether or not you’d become even more sensitive during this time.”

She opened her mouth to exclaim in disbelief over the idea he’d been looking forward to her period, but then he pressed harder with his rubbing finger and all she got out was a moan. Heat rushed into her cheeks. Her nipples prickled against the fabric of her gown. His touch had a charge to it tonight—forbidden and taboo. She’d never even masturbated when she was on her period, let alone allowed a man to pleasure her during it. God. What had she been missing out on?

“I can see you’re going to exceed my expectations, as usual,” he rasped, his gaze flickering over her breasts, before his mouth closed on hers. She came a moment later while he kissed her deeply, shuddering against his hard, primed body.

“There,” he said quietly as her trembling eased. “Nice?”