by Tara Pammi
She couldn’t love him.
How could she, when she didn’t even know what it meant? When all she’d ever known was survival?
No.
She was mistaking gratitude for a deeper emotion. It couldn’t be love—could it?—when the very prospect of it terrified her to her soul. When the very idea of giving him so much power over her threatened to break her out in hives. She trusted him more than she did anyone in the world and she wanted him. That was it.
“Leonardo thinks I’m foolish to take such a gamble on you again. Don’t make me lose face with him, sì?”
“Sì.” When he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm. “Wait, Massimo.”
He folded his hands. “Sì?”
She turned the engagement ring over and over, feeling its weight on her soul. “What about you and me?”
“There is no you and me. There should never have been, you were right.
“I’m still recovering from a stupid mistake I made by tangling with Gisela. Even knowing that I was going to do business with her father, even knowing that she...had the reputation of being wild and unstable.
“And you—” his gaze drank her face in “—you’ve never even been with a man before. The last thing I need is to make another misstep like that, with you of all people. You’re far too—”
“If you say I’m innocent, I’ll hate you. Don’t take away the power of my choice from me.”
“We belong in different worlds. Want different things in life. I will not do anything that will rock the boat now, now that BCS is going to handle a hundred-billion-euro contract any day. Now that you’re an important, moving part of the company.
“I can’t afford to blur the lines in this relationship.”
If he had thrown her into jail, Natalie would have been less shocked. A sense of falling, with no safety net, claimed her chest.
“Shall we go?” he said, offering his hand, and she nodded. Her other hand closed over the flash drive.
She was free, finally. For once in her life, she was getting a break. More than she deserved. And yet, freedom had never felt so costly to her emotions.
Tears stung at the back of her eyes but she held them back. Just. A cold that was absolute took hold over her.
He’d given her everything she’d asked for and more.
Gave her back her freedom.
Given her a secure future.
And yet, this...this distance he imposed, this calculation in his eyes that she was a weakness he couldn’t afford, this was a rejection. Like he’d given her everything and yet taken away the most important thing from her.
Him.
He’d taken himself away. From her.
For a woman who’d built her whole life being self-sufficient, trusting no one, why did it feel like such an aching loss? Why did it hurt so much?
And was she prepared to let him do it? She’d always had to fight for what she had, worked hard just to keep her head above water. Now when she was faced with losing something truly important, was she prepared to let it go so easily? Was she really going to let Massimo push her away?
No. No she wasn’t.
She wanted Massimo. And she was going to fight for him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PREDAWN PITCH-BLACKNESS WAS a thick blanket Natalie had to wade through as she made her way to Massimo’s room.
She was done living in caution, done safeguarding her heart. She wanted, craved, that excitement. She wanted whatever pleasure Massimo could give her. She wanted, even if only for a few days, a few months, whatever time, to be the woman who brought out the wicked, wild side of the tech billionaire.
Except from the moment he had put the ring on her finger and dealt her that rejection several days ago, he hadn’t looked at her once with that desire in his eyes. Not once had he been tempted among all the evenings they’d spent in each other’s company. Not once had his polite mask slipped.
Enough was enough!
The marble was smooth and cold under her bare feet. Having learned his punishing schedule by rote—billionaires really worked the longest hours—she’d decided to just...show up at his door. She heard a sound from within just as she raised her hand to knock and decided against it.
Why give him a chance to reject her again?
Slowly, she turned the knob and stepped into the lounge. A small lamp at his desk illuminated the sprawling sofas and the contemporary art on the walls. She rubbed her feet on a thick rug, relishing the warmth of it. The sound came again—a cross between a moan and a growl, sending shivers down her spine. A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind—did he have a woman in there? Had he already moved on? God, was he refueling? If he was, she’d...throttle him, the unfeeling brute!
She didn’t even have to barge into his bedroom for he had left the door open. Tugging the cashmere shawl she’d wrapped around her shoulders tighter, she stepped in.
The massive golden shaded lamps on both sides of the even more massive bed emitted a soft yellow light. Papers and electronic devices lay scattered on the nightstand. A gray suede headboard framed most of the wall. Dark gray bedcovers were rolled away. A white towel dangled off the end of the bed. And at the foot of the bed, leaning against it, stood Massimo.
Stark naked.
Head thrown back.
Breath coming out in harsh inhales and exhales.
Neck muscles corded tight.
Defined chest muscles gleaming with dampness. Falling and rising.
Abdomen so tightly packed that she wanted to run her tongue along it and see if he was really that tight.
Thighs rock hard and clenched, dotted with hair.
And his hand wrapped around his...erection. Even from the distance she could see the corded tightness of his wrist, fingers wrapped tight, and the head of his erection visible above his fist every time he moved his grip up and down with a grunt that seemed to claw up from his chest.
Heat licked up every inch of her stinging skin instantly. Every inch of her body reacted to the gloriously aroused naked man in front of her, reveling in sexual abandon. Her breasts turned achy and heavy, nipples knotted points rubbing against her T-shirt. And there was that wetness at her sex, readying her for him. Her skin felt as if it were two sizes too small for her feverish muscles.
Her breath left her lungs in an audible gush like a balloon deflating. And then she struggled to get more air in because there was none left in the room. She gasped under the overload of sensation.
Massimo’s head jerked down, breath shallow. His gray gaze pinned hers to the spot, pupils dilated. He frowned, his hand coming away from his erection, which bobbed up against his taut belly. With shaking fingers, he rubbed his face with his other hand. And then looked at her again with an intensity that seared her. Twin slashes of color climbed up under his olive skin.
Had he realized she was there, not in his imagination? Oh, God, please let it be her that he’d been imagining...
“You shouldn’t be here, cara mia,” he said, husky desire making his voice low and raspy. Even his words seemed to ping on her skin, overheating her.
“Did I ever give you the impression that I’d abide by your rules?”
“No,” he said, leaning that tight butt against the bed, jutting those lean hips up, so confident and comfortable in his nudity. So utterly, irresistibly male. “If you did, it would solve a lot of problems for me.”
“I want to be here. All week, I’ve been trying to muster the courage to walk in here. All evening, I readied myself for you. I’ve plucked and waxed and bleached and shaved and peeled and massaged...”
He cursed. Then laughed. Then shoved his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to change yourself, in any way. I want you just the way you are, with an insanity that for the first time in my life even work won’t do it for me. I think of you all the time...which is hard enough because you’
re there by my side 24/7.”
Simple truth. No games. “Then why pull away from me?”
His gaze swept over her face, her neck, her sleeveless tee and her shorts, her thighs, her legs. “I swore to myself a long time ago, even if I forget it from time to time, that I would never be the kind of man who hurts...fragile things. You’re...breakable, Natalie. I’ll use you, and then break you, before I discard you. I couldn’t face myself then.”
She’d never seen him like this—so desperately hungry, such stark need in his eyes. So much desire that her first instinct was that he would drown her in it, make her lose herself, and running away was probably the best thing. But she refused to listen to that flight instinct. No, she would stay. She wanted to stay. She wanted to drown in him. “I don’t need you to save me from you or from myself, Massimo. I don’t want a hero. I’ve never asked for one. I’ve always saved myself. Found another way, another path.
“I want a man to show me all the stuff I’ve missed out on because I was so afraid for so long. I want a man who will help me live, experience, feel. For however long we want it to be.
“I want you, flesh and blood, like this, desperate for me. Out of control. Stripped to the core. Because that’s how I stand before you.”
Each second of the silence that ensued let panic loose in her head. He was too honorable, too much of a protector, to take her. Not unless she drove him to it. She needed to be the aggressor, at least until he got his hands on her. Then all bets were off. She knew. She knew how desperately he wanted her.
She took a few steps toward him, not quite touching distance. The jut of his shoulders, those rock-hard thighs—every muscle in him clenched tight.
“Were you thinking of me?” she asked, licking her tongue, wondering why her mouth felt so dry. “Please tell me you were thinking of me and not another woman. Because I’d have to hunt her down and kill her.”
A dark smile split his mouth, a beacon of light in the darkness. A flash of that wicked, wild Massimo that she adored. A glimpse of the man she was falling for, fast. But there was only exhilaration right now in her veins. Only anticipation, excitement.
“Morning, noon and night, I think of you. I go to bed thinking of you. I wake up hard thinking of you. You in that gold dress, a goddess teasing and taunting me. You in that yellow bikini, like a sunflower in a field of frost. You in that white cocktail gown looking so demure and classy and calm and nice and sweet.”
“Are you insinuating I’m not classy?” She pouted, taking another step. She was walking into a lion’s den, she had no doubt. A willing sacrifice. And yet, she’d never felt so alive. So present. So in touch with herself. All of her.
His gaze swept over her with a warmth that was just as arousing as the desire. That made her feel safe. Secure. That made her want to throw herself headlong into this. “You’re tart, and down to earth and loud and snarky and wild and...you’re a summer storm, mia Natalie.”
Happiness was a fountain spurting in her chest, overflowing to every empty space within her, filling her with a warmth she always felt when she thought of him. She touched him with her gaze—that high forehead, sharp cheekbones, aristocratic nose, carved mouth, the tendons in his neck, the sparse sprinkling of hair on his pectorals, the defined lines of his abdomen, and his...his erection thickened and lengthened under her gaze, and her panties were soaked. A growl fell from his mouth, filling her veins.
She rubbed a hand over her nape and then over her breasts, aching all over. “Did it work?”
“What, cara mia?”
“Thinking of me, and doing that...did it relieve your...ache?”
Thick lashes flickered down and then up again. His shrug brought her gaze back to the jut of his shoulders. Tense. Taut. Really, his body was like a treasure, and she didn’t know where to look or what to touch. “Sì. For short periods of time.”
“It didn’t for me.”
A rough thrust of his fingers through his hair. An infinitesimal tremble of his chest. Her words were getting to him. A jolt of power filled her. “What?” he breathed.
“I...tried it, too. Touching myself, trying to find relief.
“After that night when you made me...” She swallowed at the devilish cast to his features. The need he couldn’t hide. “Every night, when I go to bed after spending all day with you, I feel so restless. As if I were a prisoner in my own skin. I’d shower, remembering your smiles and your teasing and your hunger that night, and the strokes of your fingers... By the time I got out of the shower, I’d be thrumming with need. I’d get into bed and touch myself.
“One hand cupping my breast and one hand, delving into my... On and on... I’d be wet and I tried to... But I...just ended up making it worse.” She swept a hand over her breasts and belly and his gaze followed her movements, like a hungry hawk circling. “I... If you’re not going to take me to bed, at least maybe you can give me some pointers?” She bit her lower lip and took another step. Another soft growl from his chest.
He didn’t look like the suave, charming tech billionaire that had people eating out of his hands. No, he looked savage and rough, like the lowest denominator of himself.
“You want me to show you how to get yourself off?” Disbelief couldn’t puncture the desperation.
She shrugged.
He cursed and laughed and cursed again. His powerful body rumbled with the force of it. “Cristo, you were sent to torture me.”
“You look like you’ve had a lot of practice. I could just—” she turned around and saw the chaise longue “—sit there, y’know, and you could stand there, and we could—”
“Only since you came into my life, I’ve felt this madness, this constant fever. I’m like...a goddamned teenager, needing to jerk off every few hours.”
“I’ve never been so jealous of a damn hand. That hand.”
She pressed her palm onto his abdomen and he growled, arresting her wrist in his hand. He was like a slab of damp heat and delicious hardness under her fingers and all she wanted to do was roll around in his heat, in his scent, until he was imprinted on her very skin.
“Dio en cielo, Natalie. If I do this, one night won’t be enough.”
Lifting her gaze, she held his. Saw the last thin thread of control separating them. “Who said anything about one night?” One more push and he would be hers. She pulled her hand away from his grip, and ran a finger over his length and moaned softly. How could he get even harder and bigger? “Shall I go down on my knees?”
His eyes gleamed. With need. Danced at her offer. He was tempted. Hallelujah! “You’ve got guts, bluffing your way through this, daring me with your tempting offers. How do you know you’ll like it?”
“Will you like it?”
“Sì. It’s all I can think of when I want to shut you up. When you argue with me. When you use your damned loyalty against me.”
“Then I’m sure I’ll like it, too.”
When he simply gazed at her, she gave voice to her innermost desire. Pressing her forehead to his chest, she licked his skin. Tasted the essence of the man. Salt and musk and pure Massimo. “Please, Massimo.
“I... I want to be here, Massimo. Only here. With you, in that bed. Under you. Over you. Any which way you want. I can’t sleep, I can’t think straight...even my dreams are restless and leave me aching and wanting. You’re the only man that has ever made me want to live. Live for myself. Experience everything life has to give. Risk myself. To laugh, cry, howl, plead.”
To love with such abandon that would have terrified her before... She didn’t say it.
It was the simple, incredible truth. Like the sky was blue and the earth was green and the world was a harsh and lonely place but also joyful and full of wonders if only one had the courage to step out and reach for them.
Love and its demands and its constrictions and its expectations had no place here tonight. Or maybe ever,
with Massimo. And that was a price she was more than willing to pay to own a part of this incredible man, even if for a little time.
His fingers sank into her hair, and he tugged so hard that her scalp prickled. That, too, added to the surfeit of sensations beating her down. She felt his mouth at her temple, his other hand running in mesmerizing circles over her back and buttocks and hips, and he was tugging her T-shirt up, up and away, over her head, and pulling her into him, and suddenly, her bare breasts were pressed against his damp chest, her nipples dragging against the wall of his muscles, and they were both sinking and drowning and gasping at how good it felt.
Her hand slid back to his solid erection.
“No,” he said abruptly, practically screaming the word into the darkness that enveloped them. As if he needed to control and corral this boundless want between them. “No, you can’t touch me, not yet, cara mia. Not tonight. If you do, it will be over before we even begin and there’s so many things I want to do with you before I’m pounding into you. So, no, no touching me. Get it?”
Natalie could barely form coherent thought, her brain too busy processing the deluge of novel sensations pouring into her. All she could do was press her mouth into his shoulder and dig her teeth in. Holding on to him.
Rough hands on her buttocks picked her up, pushing her thighs shamelessly wide, her feet on top of his buttocks, his hip bones digging into her fleshy thighs, until her sex was notched oh-so-snugly against his shaft.
“Merda, you’re dripping wet. Is this for me, cara mia?”
“All for you. All I...feel is for you, Massimo,” she whispered, and then she took his mouth the way she wanted to. Thrusting her tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth. Pressing it against his, retreating when he tried to catch her, sucking on his tip, tugging at his lip with her teeth, drawing blood, licking at that spot, until he was shuddering and shaking and pulling her down, down, down into a vortex of sensation that swallowed her up.
And then he was turning them and rocking her into that massive bed, giving her the friction she needed exactly where she needed it. His shaft pressed and slid and glided and rubbed against her clit and she caught on to his rhythm and was pushing herself into him just as he rocked his hips... Her swollen nipples scraped against the rough hair on his chest, his mouth buried in her neck told her in explicit terms how he was going to take her bold offer one day and put his shaft in the warmth of her mouth, and Natalie was drowning as pinpricks of sensation poured out from her neck, her mouth, her breasts, her belly, pulling and tightening and building into concentric circles in her lower belly, and she was sobbing, clawing her nails into his damp back, demanding he give her more...