Italian Mavericks: Expecting The Italian's Baby. Andie Brock

      Her nostrils twitched as the aroma produced a wave of acid nausea in her stomach. ‘It might help to talk.’

      Catching her worried gaze, he emptied the glass in one swallow. ‘I don’t want to talk.’ He dragged a hand through his dark hair. ‘I don’t want to think... I just want—’ He reached out towards her, his eyes burning with unvarnished need.

      Then before she could react his hand fell. A spasm of self-loathing contorted his dark features as he slammed the glass down. He was using her and acting as if it were all right.

      ‘I’ll sleep in the study tonight.’

      Lara was utterly confused by his mixed signals but also by the morass of conflicting emotions. She put it down to crazy hormonal changes and cried herself to sleep in the bedroom alone.