Sexy Billionaires

by Carol Marinelli

  At that moment Alicia knew that she was in more trouble than she’d ever been in her entire life and that this man had the power to hurt her in a way that made anything that had gone before seem like nothing more than a teenage crush.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ON THE DRIVE back to the villa after dinner, which seemed to have passed in an indecently short amount of time, there was no conversation. They had stayed for coffee after dessert and when everyone else, in various states of inebriation decided to go to the club downstairs, Dante had taken Alicia’s hand and led her outside.

  And now Alicia sat like a statue: fear, a little bit of loathing, largely directed at herself and aching desire all warring in her body.

  They pulled up on the gravel and Julieta—lovely, kind Julieta—appeared in the doorway to greet them. Alicia gave her a kiss goodnight and wanted to cling on to her for dear life. But Dante took her hand again and led her to the stairs. She stumbled at the bottom step in her heels and Dante barely changed pace as he caught her under her legs and lifted her up into his arms. Still no words. She looked at his face, which was impassive, carved from stone. Remote. Cold. How could they do this with so little warmth or affection?

  He strode confidently past her door and reality sank in. His door was shut behind them and then she was on her feet, breathless, as if she’d been the one carrying him in what seemed like a mere second. She backed away and made for her own adjoining door but he caught her back easily.

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  Alicia arched away from him as much as she could within the steel band of his arms. ‘I don’t want to do this; I won’t do this.’

  He didn’t answer, making him seem even more dark and dangerous. Remote. When he lowered his head to hers she twisted hers away and, with more than a touch of ruthlessness, he turned her head back to his. Her whole body was stiff, fighting the urge to sink, and melt.

  ‘No…’ She struggled again, fruitlessly.

  He bent his head to hers and caught her mouth. The sensation was shocking and Alicia tore her head away again, every ounce of her strength going into this struggle, this fight. But Dante was utterly remorseless. With her head turned away, he pressed his mouth against her neck. Her fists beat against his chest and made absolutely no impact. Without force, he merely twisted one arm back behind her, bringing her breasts into tight proximity to his broad chest. There was something untamed about him that called to some deep, dark part of her.

  The feel of his arousal against her soft flesh was too much, pushing her over the edge. It started a drum beat of desire in her blood. She could feel the battle being lost, her limbs shaking with the effort it took to resist when she didn’t want to. His mouth descended into the valley exposed by her wrapover top. Her free hand was on his shoulder, it moved to his head, his hair…but instead of pulling him away, as she’d fully intended, that hand caught in the short, silky dark strands and clung on. Then his hand gripped one buttock and he pulled her against him in a move that made her gasp with its earthy sensuality, its urgency. She felt a force flood her entire body and an unbelievably strong urge to connect in the most intimate way with this man. And she knew, at that moment, that he knew she’d tacitly acquiesced.

  Alicia’s legs nearly buckled as she swayed. He caught her, lifting her again, and brought her over to the bed, where he put her down on her feet. This time, when he bent his head, she didn’t move, couldn’t fight. Angry with him for making her feel so weak and with herself for this unwanted response, she kissed him back with passion and anger, matching him, their mouths clinging, tongues searching and stroking with heady intimacy.

  Her anger emboldened her. Her hands went to his jacket and pushed it from his shoulders, it fell to the floor. He ripped at his bow tie, she heard material tear but it only echoed the sound of her pulse soaring as she watched him open his shirt, to reveal his torso. For a second she couldn’t breathe, just taking in the sight of the sheer bronzed magnificence in front of her. Acting on pure impulse, she stretched out her hands and spread them across the wide plane, the light smattering of hair; her eyes followed it down and she saw the bulge just under his belt.

  A finger tipped her chin up. ‘Undo my belt…and trousers.’

  She was shaking as she did as he asked, sliding the belt through the buckle and through the loops until it fell open. Her hand went to the top button; she could already feel the heat of him. Slowly, because she was shaking too much to go quickly, she drew the zip down and her knuckles brushed enticingly against his erection, which pulsed and strained against the material of his briefs. He sucked in a breath above her and, when she looked up, they were the only two people in the world. His eyes glittered down at her. Right now, there was only this.

  With jerky impatience Dante brushed her hand away and stepped out of his trousers and briefs, standing in front of her, entirely naked. Bronzed, glistening skin stretched over hard, hard muscles. Something caught Alicia’s eye and she instinctively put out a finger to touch—it was a tattoo on his right arm, high up. Some kind of ancient symbol. It looked rough, as if it hadn’t been done properly. The air was very still and heavy around them as she traced it with a small finger. Her eyes grew round.

  A burst of angry cynicism rushed through Dante and he smiled down at her harshly. ‘It was part of my initiation into a gang. Does it excite you?’

  Alicia felt sad…for what he must have gone through. She looked up hesitantly and shook her head minutely. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate her pity. Even so, she couldn’t help asking, ‘What does it mean?’

  Dante took her finger away and brought it to his mouth, sucking the tip deeply inwards before releasing it again. A spasm of lust gripped her, warring with a scary falling feeling in her chest.

  He caught the gleam of something in her eyes and felt something beat in his chest—a warning: danger, danger…

  He called back that anger, even though it was fast being obliterated by the lust firing his blood. ‘It means, cara, that I trust no one…’

  And especially not me…flashed through her head.

  But, before she had time to think about it, he had undone the catch at the back of her skirt; it fell to the floor with a swish, and then her top followed equally rapidly. She kicked off her shoes, which lowered her a few precious inches. Dante nudged her back on to the bed. She hadn’t looked yet but now she couldn’t avoid seeing him—all of him. And he looked very aroused. She felt a dart of fear in her belly. What if he was too big for her? And, just as quickly, she felt a rush of liquid desire, moistening her, making her ready to take him. Her own body, a traitor of the worst kind.

  He dispensed with her bra and came beside her on one arm, looking his fill. Her breasts seemed to tighten even more, the tips flagrantly aroused, waiting, hungering for his touch, his mouth. As if he read her mind, he passed a palm over one nipple and Alicia shivered. But she exploded into pieces when he bent his head and took it into his mouth, suckling roughly. Her body arched and his hand came around and under her back to pull her close.

  Instinctively she stiffened and recoiled as his hand moved down over the still tender skin of her scar. His head came up. ‘What the hell is that?’

  Before she could say a word or move, he had turned her in to him to inspect what she knew was a large area of puckered pink scar tissue just above her right buttock. She closed her eyes and pushed away from him so violently that he had to let her go. She was glad of the dark. She scooted back up the bed and hugged her arms around herself, knees up. Guilt, fear and self-consciousness all vied in her breast.

  He was looking at her…with pity? As much as she couldn’t bear his censure, she couldn’t bear this.

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘It’s hardly nothing, Alicia; you’ve got a huge scar on your back. Where did you get it? Is it sore?’

  ‘It’s only sore sometimes, if I do too much or anything too physical.’

  Dante had a sudden memory of throwing her over his shoulder and winced, guilt rush
ing through him. Alicia saw it and read it. Her mouth twisted. ‘You weren’t to know.’

  ‘No,’ he said harshly, ‘but I didn’t need to be so rough.’

  Something in his voice inexplicably made her melt inside, made her forget her intention not to tell him anything. ‘I…it happened about five months ago. Rebel militia had surrounded the aid camp and were taking pot shots at us. They killed twenty people. The bullet that got me was a ricochet. I’m lucky, it turned out to be little more than a flesh wound…’

  Dante had moved off the bed and pulled on his trousers, leaving them open. Lucky. He knew that had to be an understatement. She spoke so carefully and precisely that he knew well she was trying to avoid remembering the undoubted horror. If she was telling the truth…something urged him to believe that she was, though…she’d reacted too forcibly to him touching her there.

  Alicia’s gaze was drawn to where the hair descended in a line to the potent heat of him—the heat that had almost consumed them. She closed her eyes and turned her head in disgust at herself. But she had to focus on him, on the physical, because if she didn’t…she would think about the rest. Her hands clenched.

  Dante paced close to the bed. She’d been shot. A bullet had passed through her flesh…Alicia’s flesh…cutting it open. He stopped and felt a curious weakness in his chest for a moment. He looked at her averted profile, her chest moving up and down, her breasts crushed by her knees and arms. He realized then too that she’d said this had happened five months ago…and she’d obviously stayed, hadn’t left a dangerous situation…thoughts were shifting around him, in him, and he couldn’t stop them.

  He sat down on the side of the bed and watched as the colour flooded her cheeks. He ran a finger up and down her arm and saw goosebumps spring up. Even now, he burned for her. He spoke her name without thinking, instinctively. ‘Alicia…’

  She looked up at him with desperation in her eyes. It shocked him. Her hair was tumbled over her shoulders, her eyes were huge and again the thought of someone shooting at her made him want to gather her up close and never let her go. A maelstrom of emotions ran through him.

  ‘I’m OK. It’s fine.’

  But she wasn’t. Everything was starting to flood back. Images, faces of the dying…the ever present danger. And yet, right now, being here with this man and the power he held over her body and mind scared her witless too.

  She could move, get up, leave the room; she knew instinctively that he would let her go. But…this heat that vibrated between them wouldn’t let her move, as much as she wanted to. As much as it terrified her.

  This man had the power to halt all the terrible images that threatened to flood her mind. She remembered the feeling of safety she’d had in his arms. And, right then, desire surged through her, powerful and so strong—again she had that overwhelming urge to lie with him, be with him. She knew she was flirting with a far more dangerous fire in order to obliterate her own pain, even for a short while. She needed to feel alive, needed some of this man’s potent vibrancy. The fact that she was allowing herself to be seduced yet again…She blocked it out. And she knew, somewhere that she wasn’t willing to look at yet, that Raul Carro had never had her so aflame that she couldn’t resist.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she took her hands away from her breasts and lay down on the bed. And also before she could lose her nerve, in a bold and completely untutored instinctive move, she lifted her hips and slipped her panties off. She lay there naked. She saw the confusion in Dante’s eyes, the split second of hesitation before a familiar hardness crossed his face.

  Without a word, he stood and slipped his trousers off lean hips again. This time she didn’t look down; she looked up and, as Dante came down beside her and lowered his head to hers, she breathed a sigh of relief. This danger was infinitely preferable to being vulnerable in front of him. She twined her arms around his neck, holding him close, revelling in the heat of him, the scent of him and the protective strength of him. Sexual heat combusted all around them, white-hot and illuminating. Within what seemed like minutes they had surpassed where they’d got to before and all that Alicia was aware of was the man who hovered over her, muscles bunched in his arms as he looked down at her.

  His hand parted her legs and she had a brief moment of trepidation as she could feel the smooth head of him nudge her slick entrance. As if sensing that fear, Dante stopped for a second, even though never before had he had the urge to drive in so far and so deep that he’d lose himself. He put a hand between them, feeling for himself. Her wetness made him throb; she was so ready. She moaned as his hand moved and he slipped a couple of fingers inside her. She bit her lip and moved her hips slightly against him and then he took his hand away.

  ‘No, bella, it’s going to be much better than that.’

  And, lowering his body, pushing against her, he slid in. Sweat broke out on his brow at the first feel of her tight muscles squeezing around him, holding him so snugly that he didn’t even know if he could push in any more, but then he felt her hands on his arms and she tilted her hips and he slid deeper. He bit back a long moan of pure masculine joy and pleasure. No woman had ever felt like this around him. So snug, so tight, so hot.

  He looked down into Alicia’s eyes and they were black pools of want and need. He flexed his bottom and kept sliding in, all the way.

  His breathing was harsh and jagged, like hers. Alicia looked up, wide-eyed. She’d never felt so stretched, so full…so full of aching tightening sensations; they were building through her body like a delicious tidal wave of sensation upon sensation. Dante slowly started to move, in and out. He tilted her hips, deepening the penetration even further and Alicia moaned softly, wrapping her legs around his back, as far as they would go.

  She pulled his head back down to her, searching for and finding his mouth just as he thrust deep and hit the very heart of her again, and she gasped against his mouth. All her muscles were tensing; she couldn’t believe she was so close already, but the waves were building and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Her back arched and she cried out as she exploded into pieces around him. But he wasn’t done, not yet…

  With long, hard thrusts he kept moving and, although her body was so sensitive for a second that it almost hurt, Alicia could feel herself adjust and start building all over again. She thought to herself: It’s not possible…she wouldn’t be able to survive another orgasm like it…but Dante had other ideas.

  Alicia gripped his arms. Their bodies were slick with sweat, her legs fell from his back as she tensed again. And, just as the wave crested, he lowered his head and caught one nipple in his mouth, sucking fiercely, and Alicia couldn’t stop the tremors, even stronger this time from gripping her whole body and turning everything black for a second. The world shifted back into focus just as Dante tensed above her and in her, before his own body spasmed and she felt the pulsating strength of him release deep into her body. And in that moment, as he fell over her in a dead slump, everything suddenly made sense to Alicia. As if she’d lived just for this moment.

  After a long minute of their intermingling breaths lengthening and becoming normal again, their frantic heartbeats slowing, Dante finally found the strength to roll off Alicia and lay at her side. He wanted to pull her close, take her hand, and had to clench his fist to stop the impulsive action. Great sex. That was all it was. Great sex had the biological result of inviting feelings of affection, wanting to be close. Even if it had never happened before…or the only time it had happened he’d learnt his lesson never to succumb again and, so far, he’d never met a woman who’d inspired this feeling…until now. Which proved to him that he was right not to trust her an inch.

  She was the same—all mercenary women were the same.

  He jackknifed off the bed and was about to stand up when sudden cold horror spread through him. He looked back at the woman behind him. Her eyes were closed, her arm was over her face and her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Was she crying? It momentarily diverted
him from his very unwelcome revelation.

  He reached back and took her arm down. Her eyes remained shut but he could see wetness on her cheeks.

  ‘Alicia.’

  She opened her eyes finally and pulled her arm from his hand. She sat up and got off the bed, her face a mask of indifference as she bent and picked up her clothes. Awkwardly pulling on her skirt and holding the rest of her things over her chest, she walked to the door of her bedroom.

  Still stunned and surprised at her actions, at the evidence of tears, Dante could only watch. She turned at the door and said huskily, with the slightest catch in her voice, ‘Just so you know, as you obviously don’t think about such mundane matters, I’m on the pill, so there shouldn’t be any consequences of this…’ she was obviously searching for words ‘…act.’

  And then she slipped through the door and disappeared. How dared she? Dante jumped up, incensed, his male pride bristling, and took a few steps towards the door before stopping himself. The thought of protection or, more to the point, the lack of it was the thing that had made him stop in abject horror. He never, ever forgot about protection. He was fanatical about it and, on very rare occasions where he didn’t have any and he didn’t trust the woman if she told him she was on the pill, he had no qualms about calling a halt to things.

  But just now…heat flooded his body and he felt himself becoming aroused again with very little stimulation, at just the thought of what had happened…it had not even occurred to him. He grimaced and ran an angry hand through his hair. She had every right to have that tone in her voice if she thought he acted like that on a regular basis.

  He turned from the door and went into his shower, stepping under a punishing cold spray. Why had she been crying? His movements stilled. Could it have been because he’d hurt her? But then he remembered that mind-blowing climax; he’d been certain that it had been exactly the same for her—those moans and sighs hadn’t been of pain…Still, he had a nasty taste in his mouth as he stepped out and dried off.