Captive at Her Enemy's Command (Harlequin Presents)

by Heidi Rice

  “No way,” he said. “I’ll escort you.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and fury with himself edged his voice. “Don’t worry. I can keep my hands to myself.”

  Did she think he was some kind of beast? Incapable of controlling his own hunger?

  He texted Marco Calzone, the young Italian whom he had tasked with heading up tonight’s security detail.

  Taking Katherine’s arm, feeling the pulse punch the inside of her elbow, he escorted her back through the gardens and up the marble steps toward the entrance hall. Marco was waiting with the keys to his convertible.

  They drove back to the villa in silence.

  She dashed off to her room, obviously concerned that he would try to follow her. Try to force himself on her.

  He ought to return to the party. Forget about her. But the throbbing ache in his crotch refused to subside.

  Disgusted with himself, and her, he walked through the villa then headed down from the terrace, through the gardens toward the pool.

  He stripped down to his boxers and dived in. The frigid water stung his skin, finally cooling the heat that had been building ever since Katherine had walked out onto the terrace. The heat that had made him want to press her to his will.

  He powered through the water, flipped into a turn and then powered back toward the deep end—ready to carry on going until he’d tamed the beast inside him. But he had a bad feeling that, now the damn thing had been unleashed, there would be no putting it back in its cage tonight, even if he swam all the way back to freaking Sorrento.

  * * *

  Katie flipped the lock on her bedroom door. But she knew it wasn’t Jared Caine she was trying to keep out—it was herself. And her reaction to him.

  The firestorm that had burned through her blood when he’d kissed her was everything she remembered from five years ago, and more. His lips had been coaxing, subtly demanding at first, but as soon as she’d opened her mouth she’d been plunged into a pit of red-hot lava.

  If she’d been concerned about the strength of her attraction to him before, she was terrified now.

  She crossed the room to fling open the balcony doors. The breeze went some way to cooling the burn on her cheeks until she heard the rhythmic splashing coming from the pool.

  Walking onto the balcony, she leaned over and spotted Jared’s powerful body slicing through the water in smooth, efficient strokes. Her breath got trapped in her throat as she watched him.

  She shouldn’t look.

  But she couldn’t seem to detach her gaze. Eventually, his strokes slowed, he braced his hands on the edge of the pool and lifted himself out. Water sluiced down his body as he kicked off the wet boxers. He was too far away for her to make out any details but she recalled the feel of him, his hard length pressing into her belly as they danced. She devoured the sight of him, so tall, so powerful as he walked across to the pool house and lifted a towel from the pile by the door.

  He toweled himself in leisurely strokes then hooked the towel around his waist. He took the terrace steps two at a time then strolled through the gardens toward the villa.

  She lurched back to plaster her body against the balcony wall, scared he would see her transfixed.

  She crept back into the darkened bedroom but stopped dead as she heard the soft pad of his bare feet in the living area outside. The footsteps slowed, then stopped, and she noticed the shadow cast under her door.

  Her heartbeat hit her larynx in harsh, staccato thuds. The urge to cross the room and fling open the door, to tell him how much she wanted him, held her spellbound. She felt terrified and aroused at the same time. But then the shadow faded away with the sound of his retreating footsteps.

  Her breath released in a rush, her body sagging with relief.

  She got ready for bed in a daze. But as she lay on the coverlet, staring at the beautiful plasterwork on the ceiling, the bed’s drapes fluttering in the sea breeze, all she could see was the power and majesty of his naked body. All she could feel was his mouth on hers, forceful and demanding—and her body hummed, brutally captivated by the rich, fluid kick of exhilaration.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “YOU’LL DO AS I tell you or you’ll rot here.”

  Visceral terror crawled over Jared’s flesh as the vicious taunt hissed in his skull. The fetid smells—damp, vomit, rotting food—and the funky smell of stale sweat suffocated him. The pain burned and throbbed, pinpricks of agony.

  He could see the crack of light beneath the door, could hear the deafening snap as the bolt drew back. The bones of his spine cracked against the wall as he scrambled away from the light, trying to make himself invisible. The pulsing glow of neon lit his stepfather’s face and he morphed into a monster. Terror charged through Jared and he whimpered.

  Punishing hands grabbed his arms, indescribable pain lancing up them, and the silent screams trapped in his throat burst free.

  Jared jerked awake, yanked out of the nightmare by his own hoarse shouts. His ribs hurt from the violent panting. The sea breeze from the open terrace door chilled the pool of sweat dampening fine Egyptian sheets. The old marks burned, the paralyzing pain new and raw.

  He jolted upright, throwing off the sheets. And sunk his head into his hands, his body shaking from the nightmare.

  No, not nightmare—night terrors. That was what the therapist had called them.

  Humiliation washed through him. Unable to control the tremors, like a drunk with the DTs, he staggered into the bathroom.

  He should have closed the balcony doors before he’d gone to bed. What if Katherine had heard him screaming and whimpering like a terrified child?

  He took a moment, dousing his face with cold water, until his pulse finally tracked out of the danger zone and his heart no longer felt as if it were about to explode out of his chest.

  He swallowed, the dryness in his throat momentarily bringing back the tremors—reminding him of that boy, kept thirsty in the stultifying humidity to make him comply, to force him to... He shook his head.

  Lock the fear back in that room. Don’t let it out.

  Returning to the bedroom, he dragged on fresh shorts and headed out into the villa’s kitchen. He needed a cold drink.

  Once he had gulped down a glass of water, and refilled it, he braced his hands on the countertop, forcing his knees to lock, the ringing in his ears making him scared he was about to faint.

  That was all he needed now, to collapse in a heap.

  A tiny sound had him lurching round, to see Katherine standing behind him, her eyes round with concern but her face fierce with determination—a large vase held aloft in her hands like a weapon.

  She dropped her arms.

  “Jared, I thought I heard yelling. Is everything okay?”

  Not exactly.

  His lips twisted. The sight of her—so fierce, so fragile—planning to fight any and all intruders was almost amusing, in a blackly comic way. He fought to stop himself from keeling over in front of her.

  “Yeah. I’m good. Just had a bad dream,” he said, forced to tell her at least some of the truth. But then his gaze tracked over her. She wore a slip of a thing, the hall light silhouetting her curves and leaving very little to the imagination. He could see the slim slope of her hips, the subtle jut of her breasts, the dusky shadow of her nipples.

  Arousal surged through him and his knees trembled for an entirely different reason.

  “Go back to bed,” he managed.

  * * *

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Katie asked. “What was the dream about?”

  What kind of bad dream left you looking like you had been dragged out of your own grave?

  The white scars caused by his stepfather’s abuse stood out against the tanned skin of Jared’s forearms.

  But then her gaze lifted to his face. Arousal darkened the bright blue of his eyes.

  The hum kicked off in her stomach, setting off a deep, pounding ache. And the fear and panic that had sent her running from him last night was
comprehensively drowned out by the thick beat of desire. Of longing.

  As he was wearing only his boxer shorts, she was able to see far too much of his glorious body, up close now and way too personal.

  The color that had been drained from his face returned to his cheeks, the flush slashing high across his cheekbones.

  Although her mind was yelling at her to run, to escape, she felt trapped by her own longing. The desire to look at him, to study every inch of firm, resilient, satiny skin, was more than she could bear. So she stood riveted to the spot, absorbing every detail as she studied the dark curls of hair surrounding flat brown nipples. The happy trail ran down through the ridged muscles of his six-pack to the band of his boxers, and the hint of springy curls contained by the sinews defining his groin.

  Her mouth dried to parchment, as she noticed the ridge of his penis outlined behind black cotton—thickening and lengthening as she stared. The thrill shuddered down to her core and her gaze jerked back to his face.

  “You need to go to bed before I finish what we started last night.” His voice, rough with desire, seemed to stroke the swollen folds of her sex.

  Despite his warning, the clear intent in his eyes, the panic refused to come, because all she could feel was the visceral blast of heat. Her nipples strained against the silk of her negligee, begging for the feel of those sure, sensual lips.

  “I mean it, Katherine. I’m not kidding about.” She could hear the barely leashed control in his voice, could see the feral light in his eyes. The veneer of sophistication had been ripped away, the ferocity of his desire evidenced by the heavy weight of the erection. His big body was restless and alive with tension, his ragged breathing matching her own.

  “If you don’t stay the heck out of my way for the next couple of days, I’m going to take what you offered me five years ago.”

  The growled ultimatum was a promise, not a threat. But the intent in his eyes, the flood of moisture between her thighs, jerked her out of the sensual trance. Her flight instinct finally kicked in.

  Fumbling to put the vase on the edge of the counter, she turned and fled.

  She raced to her room and shut the door. Her whole body shook, her clitoris throbbing. Sinking to the floor, her back hit the wall with a thud as she pressed her forehead to her knees and tried to make sense of the emotions, the needs careering through her system.

  How could she be so enthralled by this man? She’d kissed other men before and since she’d kissed Jared Caine. But no man had ever had the ability to reach inside her and yank out that part of herself she’d kept hidden for so long. And the realization terrified her.

  She couldn’t be that woman, controlled by her desires. She didn’t want to be that woman. A woman like her mother, with no morals, no loyalties. A woman ruled by her appetites and her own selfish pursuit of pleasure. Because then she would become everything she’d been running away from.

  But Jared Caine had ignited the hunger she thought she’d tamed, like a volcano which had been lying dormant for five years, ever since their first kiss. And now he had blown all the lies she’d been telling herself to smithereens. During all her thoughtless escapades, all the dumb stunts and hijinks of the last five years, had she simply been attempting to replicate the thrill she’d only ever found in his arms?

  She shivered despite the warm breeze from the balcony.

  A tear tracked down her cheek and she brushed it away with her fist.

  But as she forced herself off the floor and walked to the en suite bathroom on shaky legs, her thighs still trembling from the intensity of their encounter in the kitchen, she recalled the shouts from his room that had woken her up.

  And she realized that, more disturbing than the sexual hold he had on her, were these glimpses behind the impenetrable shield of his emotions.

  Pull yourself together.

  So he’d had a tough childhood. And possibly still had nightmares about it. That didn’t alter the fact he was a hard, uncompromising man, dominant and commanding, not the sort of guy she needed to get involved with.

  Tugging off the negligee, she stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the water. She picked up the lemon-scented soap and began to scrub her skin, trying to wash away the memory of his gaze, the sizzle of anticipation still making her ache.

  But as the lukewarm water sluiced over her she could still hear her breathless pants, feel his gaze on her tender flesh as the yearning continued to echo at her core.

  She let her hand drift down to the wet curls at her sex and tried to feed the hunger. But her frantic efforts were stifled by a wave of shame—and terrifying longing.

  Because beneath the fear of becoming like her mother, of giving in to the hunger that drove her, was the burning ache to feel him inside her. And the seductive knowledge that, however much she wanted to deny it, knowing he wanted her too was the biggest turn-on of all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE NEXT DAY Jared was gone again, busy working on the resort’s press launch, according to Inez. After another sleepless night, her body tormenting her with images of him fully erect, the grumble of his warnings curling through her dreams, Katie convinced herself she was grateful. For once she planned to do as she was told and stay the heck out of his way for the duration of her stay.

  Armed with her art box and a sheath of paper she’d found in the study, she headed through the gardens, ready to paint herself into exhaustion. They still hadn’t dealt with the subject of what would happen once her passport arrived, but she had no doubt that Jared had simply assumed she would comply with Dario’s wishes and accompany him back to New York.

  That wasn’t going to happen. As soon as she had her passport, she was heading back to Sorrento. But she would need watercolors to sell when she got there.

  The sun was bright and punishing, the light glorious off the water as the tranquil turquoise sea lapped at the rugged coastline. Gnarled lemon trees shaded the path through the gardens, their pungent scent joined by the aroma of wild thyme and oregano. Steps etched out of the limestone led down to the villa’s private cove, a sandy beach sheltered by shrubs and the glorious yellow flowers of the local broom plants.

  Katie tried to clear her mind of all thoughts of Jared Caine, but even the stunning scenery failed to take away that deep ache which he had awakened the night before with a simple kiss.

  In the distance, fishing boats and small tourist crafts sailed past the headland. She did detailed sketches then switched to watercolor, the small vignettes the perfect size for the gallery in Florence where she had sold her previous work.

  But every time she tried to lose herself in her art the same questions kept torturing her.

  What had Caine been dreaming about to make him cry out like that? And why couldn’t she control her hunger for him?

  The memory of Jared’s body haunted her. The slopes and sinews of his muscular chest, as strong and indomitable as the cliff face...the dark intensity in his pure blue eyes as vivid as the translucent color of the sea.

  The charcoal broke off in her fingers. And she swore under her breath, the now familiar heat flushing through her as she studied the drawing she’d sketched on autopilot.

  She saw Jared Caine’s face, his body, that glorious erection, so thick and heavy just for her, barely disguised by the cotton of his boxers. The desire to see him naked, to feel that warm, firm flesh in her hands, to lick every glorious inch of him like a drug, turned her body into a raw nerve.

  She crumpled the sketch and stuffed it into her pack. Then scrubbed her hands over her sweat-slicked skin.

  Was this what her mother had felt? Was this why she’d run away from Katie and Megan to join one of her lovers? Was this the giddy thrill which had been driving her when she’d put her life at risk that night on Capri and taken a high, fast drive with another of her many conquests after making love in the moonlight?

  No wonder Alexis Whittaker had forgotten about all her responsibilities—her daughters, her husband, even her own safety.


  Shouldering the heavy mahogany box of paints, brushes and sketching pencils, Katie made her way back up the cliff, more tired and out of sorts now than when she had arrived. Her whole body felt like a raw nerve begging for something it shouldn’t want.

  After the long, hot walk up the limestone steps, she trekked through the sheltered gardens, the trellises of flowering vines letting off a heady perfume as the sun began to sink toward the horizon.

  The sound of slashing in the pool cut through her frantic thoughts and her pulse jumped as she spotted Jared cutting through the water in powerful strokes, the setting sun gleaming on his dark head.

  Instead of rushing back to her room, to hide out for another night, she toed off her sandals and stood transfixed in the shadow of an olive tree—unable to tear her gaze away from him. Just like the night before.

  As he levered himself out of the water, moisture flowed over the sculpted muscles of his chest, flattening the smattering of hair. He reached for a towel and a small gasp escaped from her lips.

  His head turned, and her heart charged into her throat. He watched her as he rubbed the towel over his chest in absent-minded strokes.

  She stood trapped as the terrifying blast of heat consumed her.

  Dumping the wet towel on a lounger, Jared stood with his legs akimbo, the stance deceptively casual. “What are you doing, Katherine?”

  The low words felt like a caress on her too-sensitive skin, the burn of desire overwhelming her. A gust of wind made the short summer dress she wore press against her thighs.

  “Watching you,” she admitted.

  “I thought I told you to stay out of my way?” His voice rasped across her skin like sandpaper.

  “I’ve never been very good at taking orders,” she said, forcing a defiance into her voice she didn’t feel.

  She wanted him, she wanted this, and she couldn’t deny it any longer.

  As scared as she was of taking this next step, she was more scared of having him never look at her again the way he was looking at her now. As if he knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed. And knew how to give it to her.