by Tara Pammi
“There’s a prize?”
“There’s always a prize in these things. Shall I tell you what it is, Princess?” he whispered, his breath hot against her lips, his arrogant nose flaring.
Alex placed her open palms against his chest. His heart thundered under her fingers, the beat steadily rising as she leaned her thighs against the rock-hard cradle of his. Heat. Hardness. Hunger. His maleness was an ocean she wanted to drown in. “What?” she croaked.
“Surrender.”
“Never,” she declared just as arrogantly, his very words imbuing her blood with challenge.
She pushed her palm up, up until she reached his neck. Sneaking her fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, she tilted her head. His breath drew a hot path down her cheek, the scent of him a trigger her body instantly associated with long, lazy nights and indescribable pleasure.
Her other hand she kept on his abdomen, loving the tight clench and release of those powerful muscles every time she touched him.
“Not unless...”
“Not unless what?”
Slowly, she pressed her lips to his, pressing his head down with her fingers. As if he’d been made for the express purpose of pleasuring her. “Unless I take you down with me.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes. I want to make you drown. In me. Until you can’t tell what’s right and wrong anymore. Until...”
Soft lips met hers in a rush of warmth and rollicking hunger. Alex drew a sizzling trail along the seam of that sensuous mouth with her tongue, her breath a labored hiss against his bristly jaw. The remembered taste of him was like a detonation going off inside her body.
She nipped and kissed, licked and played with his mouth, but it wasn’t enough.
Nowhere near enough.
She sneaked her tongue into his mouth on the next swipe. Pleasure exploded in sweet rivulets down her body as the taste of him filled her. Whiskey and want—he was all solid and real. And after the roller coaster of the last few months, here was the thing that had anchored her. She devoured him as if the taste of him on her tongue, the solid breadth of him in her hands, the labored rush of his breaths on her skin could fill the emptiness inside of her. As if he was all she needed.
Pressing herself into him, she took his mouth with a feral hunger. She licked and nipped, bit and laved at the pillowy lushness of his lips. Thrust in and out of his mouth in a rhythm she desperately needed to be feeling somewhere else.
His other hand landed on flesh where the slinky black number bared the curve of her hips. Those long fingers she knew so well fluttered over her skin, tender like butterfly wings, and yet leaving a wake of heat in their trail. “Slow down, cara. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against her skin.
The dry humor in those words was a cold slap to her senses. Alex pulled away from him, her breaths choppy, the lack of solid warmth in her hands painfully real.
But for all the silky control of his words, she could see the stamp of desire on his tight features, the sharp hiss of his breath as he wrestled himself back under control, the curse he bit out when he moved.
“I think that’s enough of a PDA to announce our marriage, si?” she whispered.
He grunted his assent and she laughed. But as they made their way downstairs, the caged passion of his body sliding deliciously against her own, answering the questions thrown their way, Alex wondered how a win could feel so much like a loss.
CHAPTER SIX
AN UNCOMMONLY BRISK September breeze plastered her silk blouse and long skirt against her body as Alex stood waiting on the steps outside the Brunetti villa.
Her temper matched the wind’s bite. God, she was surrounded by the most infuriatingly stubborn people on the face of the planet.
The roar of the Lamborghini Aventador had cut short her rapid-fire argument with Greta, who’d refused to even contemplate the idea of apologizing to Vincenzo. As much as it galled Alex to acknowledge it of the woman who had welcomed her with open arms, Greta’s actions toward Vincenzo and his mother all those years ago had been thoughtless at best and cruel at worst. Even Massimo had blasted Greta for it.
It didn’t matter that at that time, Greta had been doing her best to corral her son, Silvio—an egotistical monster bent on destroying the revered institution that was BFI as well as Massimo and Leo’s lives. Neither was Greta willing to understand that Alex’s marriage to Vincenzo wasn’t a momentary madness that she could simply walk away from right now.
On the other side was Vincenzo, using their intimate, spine-melting kiss at the nightclub, using every detail of their relationship to enable him to continue his siege on BFI. Whatever setback the article in the press had initially caused him, he was using their “fairy-tale-esque romance” to clean up his image.
It was bad enough that Leo’s own reputation as BFI’s CEO had taken a hit after Vincenzo’s sustained attacks for over a year now. And now the news of his marriage to her... Alex could almost see the neat twist.
If Alessandra Giovanni—the adopted daughter of the Brunettis—had fallen head over heels for Vincenzo Cavalli, he couldn’t be all that bad, could he?
The press had turned the untamable wolf that was Vincenzo Cavalli into the most romantic man on the planet.
Alex pursed her mouth as the purring engine of the Aventador came to a smooth halt in front of her. Her pulse spiked as Vincenzo stepped out and walked around to her side.
In a V-necked sweater and denim that sinfully molded to those hard thighs, he looked like every sinful temptation she’d ever had. His jet-black hair had a wet sheen from the shower, his freshly shaven jaw all sharp angles. Looking composed was hard when all she wanted to do was press her face against the exposed skin at his throat and absorb some much-needed warmth.
The media had exploded after their kiss and the subsequent reveal of their wedding, but they still hadn’t worked out all the logistics of where they would live. She was still finishing up her last contracts, talking to Charlie every day and playing out the social circuit in Milan with Vincenzo by her side.
Not that she didn’t welcome the reprieve it gave her. Resisting him was a much easier concept when they parted ways at the end of the night.
Leaning against the Aventador, he looked effortlessly urbane, sophisticated in a raw, powerful way. Not even the most gorgeous male models she’d known could achieve that confidence, that wicked arrogance without a lot of practice.
Here was a man who did not need his ego to be stroked. Or pandered to, in any way. Who had earned everything he possessed the hard way.
His gaze took her in with such thoroughly possessive leisure that all her animosity for him misted away.
“I thought a chauffeur was picking me up.”
He unfolded his hands and stepped forward, a smile tugging at his lips. “Ah...but I wanted a few private minutes with you. I caught your speech at the Women CEOs Summit. It was refreshing and bold.”
The genuine admiration in his voice... He took the fight out of her far too easily. She licked her lips and said, “Thanks,” in an uptight, frosty voice.
Grinning, he neared her. Not quite caging her against the car. But close enough for the fresh, soapy scent of him to assault her every sense. “I never thought about the perils of marrying a woman who’s a powerhouse in her own right. Charity galas, and runway shows and photoshoots... I feel quite the poor neglected husband.”
A thick, damp lock of hair fell on his forehead and she pushed at it instinctively. The tips of her breasts grazed his bicep and she felt the soft hiss of his breath. “You’re not the poor anything, V,” she added. Not in the throaty way she’d intended but more like a whisper.
He stepped back, removing that easy intimacy. And his gaze swept over her in an approving survey that spawned warmth.
For all the years she’d spent with makeup artists, Alex preferred s
imple, easy looks.
The white sleeveless silk blouse draped around her torso was not loose, not figure hugging, but bared a strip of her belly. The inner layer of the skirt ended several inches above her knees, while the outer sheer silky hem fell all the way to her toes, caressing her legs every time she moved.
She’d added diamond studs at her ears and a thin gold chain with a tiny pendant for her jewelry. Her unruly hair, she’d subdued into a French braid while it was still wet.
“You look...different,” he added finally.
“Bad different?” she asked, over the loud thudding of her heart.
“Enchanting different,” came his quick reply, accompanied by a grin that threatened to take her out at the knees. “You look striking on the runway but I like this version of you more.”
“The not strutting in only three triangles of clothing version?” she said, cocking her eyebrow.
His laughter dug deep grooves at the sides of his mouth. His gray gaze shone like liquid metal. “That too. But it’s not just that. You look real. Like the woman I met in Bali that first night.”
Warmth crawled up her neck and she stared, tongue-tied.
Seducing her like this was a game to him. Surrender, his prize.
His thumb traced the dark smudges under her eyes that she hadn’t been able to cover up as well as her makeup artist. “However, you look tired.” Low and tender, his voice snaked itself around her. “Anna told me your calendar looks impossible.”
She tilted her chin up, dislodging his fingers from her skin. “Your assistant should keep her opinions to herself.”
This time, he came closer, caging her against the car. Fading sunlight caressed the planes of his face, much like she wanted to. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. I don’t need Anna to point that out to me.”
“This is the pace of my life, V. I want to clear out my calendar and be available for any situation with Charlie.”
“You can’t run away from your grief, cara. Nor can you wrap up six months’ worth of work in two. You need to take better—”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember. No one else did it for me.”
He raised his palms in surrender. “I’m showing concern, bella. Not condescension.”
The fight went out of her. It wasn’t as if the latest designer she was modeling for hadn’t muttered about Alex’s dress for his show needing to be altered because she’d lost weight. She sighed. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Missing me in bed?”
“It’s not my fault you refuse to stay here at the villa. Neither Leo nor Massimo have any objection to it. You can get to know your br—” he went from warmth to frost in a matter of seconds and Alex took a long breath “—the men you hate, a little better.”
A smile broke the stiffness of his upper lip. “You really think you’re very clever, si?”
“I’ve no idea what you mean.”
“You think putting me under the same roof as Massimo and Leonardo will change my mind?”
“I told you... I have easy access to everything from the villa. I have my design room set up the way I need. Why can’t you just move into the villa? Or are you afraid of living under the same room as the men you’ve loathed for most of your life in case you discover you actually like them?
“As for missing you in bed—” she licked her lips and his gaze got hotter, hungrier “—did you see the ad I did for that sex toy company?”
He grunted and flushed slightly. And it was her turn to laugh.
It wasn’t easy to pose as a smitten couple to the world, day in, day out.
Charity galas and fundraisers, cocktail parties, being near each other, the intimate looks and touches, the rush of being near him, of feeling the lean length of him at her back and then ending the evenings abruptly, and not in the pleasurable way they could, was taking a toll on her.
It wasn’t so much the sex that Alex wanted—which she absolutely did—but the connection that had come with it. Before and after. The intense high of being seen by a person who really mattered to her. Of being wanted for who she was.
She desperately wanted to find that connection again with him—especially amidst the rubble of their relationship right now. She was terrified that Greta might be right—it had been unbelievably good sex and nothing more.
Even when they’d been hidden away from the world, it had been she who’d done the chasing. It had been she who’d been desperate to be with him, she who’d wanted their relationship to deepen.
For a man who rarely betrayed his emotions, he had been a revelation in bed. The more she gave, the more he’d demanded of her. Until she’d given him all she had—her heart and soul. Believed that he’d needed her just as she’d needed him.
For all his renewed commitment to their marriage, she wondered at his self-control. Thought again about the original reason he’d married her.
Had he thought she’d be so much putty in his hands as to betray her family? Or had she simply been something to steal away from Greta?
But now that she was getting to know him a little more, now that she understood what drove his actions, that didn’t fit with the other pieces of the puzzle.
For all the incredible arrogance of the man, there was no way he could have thought she’d be an asset to him in any way. Then why?
“Si. I saw the magazine spread you were kind enough to send me. You nailed the sexy, confident, contemporary woman perfectly.”
“Didn’t I?” Alex said, a tingly thrill electrifying her all over.
It had been the most fun she’d had in a while. And of course, sending the spread to Vincenzo—her naked limbs peeking out from under a cloud of white sheets with the pink vibrator lying next to her, had been the most fun part of it all. “Anyway, they sent me one as a complimentary gift. Technology is so marvelous, isn’t it? It was brilliantly built—steel cloaked in velvet.”
“Is there a point to this story?” His jaw tight, the words were gritted out.
“You said I needed stress relief, remember? So the other night, I couldn’t sleep and there it was, in its cute pink package. I unpacked it and got back into bed and...”
“And?” he growled as she paused.
“This was my first time using one, you see and—”
In the blink of a breath, he folded his body against hers, one firm hand pulling her arms above her. His breath feathered over her cheeks, his nose rubbing against the tender skin on the inside of one bicep. “You play dirty, cara.” He whispered the words against the soft flesh of her arm, just above the elbow. His other hand landed unerringly on the narrow strip of skin her outfit bared. Heat from his fingers seared her. “Am I allowed to? Am I allowed to use all the...weapons at my disposal?”
She leaned into his chest, the sides of her breasts pressed against his hard chest. “You already play dirty, V. You use everything you do with me for your PR. Nothing is real anymore.”
“What—?”
She meant to back off and miscalculated, their legs tangling instead. Her hip hit the rock-hard slab of his abdomen, her thigh rubbing against his groin. His reaction was instant.
“Oh...” Alex whispered, incapable of rational thought. Her mouth was dry. Punch-drunk on need as she settled her body—chest to thighs, against him.
His fingers dug into her hips as he held her like that, his erection rocking into the notch of her sex. “You think I don’t miss you in my bed? You think I was not driven to mindless lust when I saw the magazine spread? You think I didn’t take myself in my hand while thinking of you like some rabid fan even though you already belong to me?”
Awareness was a cage around them, the slip and slide of their bodies, the settling of his hard muscles and her softer ones into a familiar groove, begging for that instinctive rhythm to begin...
Hands tight around he
r, he rocked his hips into her. Their combined moans rent the quiet evening air.
Alex shivered, her skin too tight to contain her. “Please, V...”
“Please what, bella?” He licked the sensitive skin at the crook of her neck. And she rubbed her thighs together, desperate for friction there. “Shall I make you climax here, against the car in full view of the villa? Do I win this round then?”
Her own fingers pulling at his hair, Alex buried her face in his throat. “Sometimes, I wish I had never met you on that island. I wish...”
His fingers gentled on her back, as if she hadn’t just damned their entire relationship. “I would love to give you what you want. What both of us want. But whom shall you hate more tomorrow morning? Me or yourself?”
Alex drew air in as if her lungs were starved. He was right. This was a dangerous game she was playing. One she might very well lose. “Let me go,” she whispered, because it wasn’t in her to walk away from him.
He released her slowly, a perfect gentleman. Not betraying by the flicker of an eyelid that he had indeed won this round.
The car pulled away from the villa. For long, silent minutes, Alex lost herself in the spectacular views of the high alpine peaks and the shimmering lake.
His long fingers drew her attention to the steering wheel. The simple but expensive gold band she’d purchased at an exclusive jewelry shop in Bali glinted in the darkness of the interior.
She felt his assessing gaze on her and looked away.
“Do you want to start over and tell me what has you in such a mood?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. As usual, I lost my head when I saw you. Looking like a morsel I wanted to inhale. You were already angry about something.”
His perceptiveness didn’t surprise her. “This was my only free evening in two weeks. I don’t appreciate your personal assistant adding events to my calendar without consulting me first,” she said when she finally had a measure of composure. “I need more than—‘Important Dinner with Mr. Cavalli—Casual Dress’ a few hours before I’m supposed to show up.”