Bound by a One-Night Vow

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Izzy made a grimace. ‘Don’t you read the gossip pages? I’m not exactly ideal wife material. I’m the girl men have flings with before they settle down with someone far more suitable.’

  Something flickered over his face. ‘Women are entitled to have just as many sexual encounters as men if that’s what they want to do.’

  Izzy frowned. ‘So you’re not judging me for my past? Is that what you’re saying?’

  His gaze became direct, like a detective examining important evidence. ‘How much of your past is fact and how much is fiction?’

  She gave an offhand shrug to cover how exposed she suddenly felt. Why had she got herself into this conversation? She wasn’t interested in getting his good opinion... Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true. There was a part of her that did want his approval. She wanted it far more than she should. ‘Make a guess.’

  ‘If what they write about me is any indication, I would say not much is true.’ He kept his gaze trained on hers. ‘Am I correct?’

  Izzy toyed with her champagne glass. ‘In the early days I would deliberately court negative attention from the press. I wanted to embarrass my father and I didn’t care how I achieved it. Pictures of me stumbling out of nightclubs in the early hours of the morning were my modus operandi. It was so easy. All I had to do was look a little wasted and they would take the money shot. I soon got a reputation for wild partying but the truth was much more boring.’

  His expression was shadowed with a combination of confusion and concern. ‘Were you drunk at your father’s Christmas party when you were eighteen or just pretending?’

  Izzy gave a regretful sigh. ‘Not drunk, tipsy—just as I was every year. It was the only way I could get through my father’s Devoted Dad act. Silly, now that I think about it. The only person I ended up hurting was myself.’

  Andrea touched her on the arm. ‘Reputations can be repaired in time. But it’s important you feel good about yourself. What other people think isn’t something you can control.’

  Did she feel good about herself? Izzy wasn’t sure she could answer that with any certainty. A childhood of being told she wasn’t good enough wasn’t an easy thing to dismiss. She felt those negatives messages in the fabric of her soul. They were like bruises that would throb whenever self-doubt bumped against them. She forced a smile. ‘I think I’ll have to work on that.’

  He lifted her chin with his finger, his eyes holding hers for a long, intense moment. His gaze flicked to her mouth and his throat tightened over a swallow. His hand fell away from her face and he stepped back. ‘You have the bed. I’ll take the sofa.’

  Izzy could still feel the tingle from his touch and the ache of disappointment that he hadn’t kissed her. The air seemed charged with energy—a sexual energy that made her skin prickle and tighten. ‘Andrea?’ Her voice came out soft and husky.

  The muscles of his face tensed as if he was garnering his resolve. ‘We need to be sensible about this, Isabella.’ The stern drill sergeant note was back in his voice as if he were speaking to an insubordinate refusing an exercise.

  ‘What is sensible about a six-foot-four man trying to sleep on a sofa?’ Izzy said. ‘We can share the bed without touching, surely? It’s certainly big enough.’

  ‘Believe me. It’s not big enough.’ His tone was dry.

  Izzy frowned. ‘But what about the housekeeping staff? Didn’t you say you wanted everyone to think our marriage was genuine?’

  He let out a slowly rationed breath. ‘We will fly to Positano tomorrow. There’s more privacy at my villa as I keep staff down to a minimum. My housekeeper is the soul of discretion. You can have your own room and she won’t say a word.’

  ‘But what about my job? And my studies? I have to call my boss and—’

  ‘I’ve already seen to it,’ Andrea said. ‘He wishes you well. And you can study anywhere these days as long as you’ve got access to Wi-Fi.’

  ‘You’ve thought of everything.’ Izzy hadn’t meant to sound so cynical but everything was spinning out of her control. Had been from the moment she’d accepted his offer of marriage. She wasn’t used to it. But another part of her—a secret part—was enjoying having someone take care of her.

  Andrea turned away and poured himself a small measure of the champagne they’d had earlier. She suspected it had more to do with him needing to do something with his hands than any desire for more alcohol. She had never seen him drink to excess. It was another thing she had, albeit reluctantly, admired about him. ‘Go to bed, Isabella.’

  ‘Why do you always call me by my full name instead of Izzy?’

  He took a sip of his drink and then lowered the glass to look at her, his thumb moving on the side of the glass in a circular motion. ‘It’s a beautiful name. Elegant and regal. Sophisticated.’

  Izzy gave a little snort. ‘I’m hardly what anyone would describe as sophisticated.’

  ‘You’re too hard on yourself.’ His voice had a softer note that glided along her skin like a caress.

  Izzy forced a smile. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. I’m feeling pretty tired. It’s been a big day.’

  She was almost at the door of the bedroom when his voice stalled her. ‘Were you disappointed we didn’t have a more formal church wedding?’

  Izzy turned to look at him but there was nothing in his expression she could read, other than mild interest. ‘I never intended getting married in a church or otherwise so how could I be disappointed?’

  He gave a slight nod as if her answer made perfect sense, but there was a shadow in the back of his gaze that made her wonder if he would ever take what she said at face value again. It unnerved her to think she had revealed so much to him in so short a time. Impersonal or not, their wedding ceremony had shifted something in their relationship. It was not the same as before. She was finding it harder and harder to see him as the enemy, especially when his touch made her feel so alive. She needed to keep him at a distance—an emotional distance—if she were to get out of this six-month marriage without getting hurt.

  * * *

  Izzy somehow managed to sleep in spite of her worries about the new shape of her relationship with Andrea. But it appeared the same couldn’t be said of him when she came out of the suite the next morning. He looked like he’d been awake all night. Dark stubble peppered his jaw and his eyes were drawn and his hair looked like it had suffered the repeated shove of his fingers. He unfolded himself from the sofa and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘How did you sleep?’ he asked, wincing against the sunlight when she drew back the curtains.

  ‘Clearly a whole lot better than you,’ Izzy said, picking up the throw rug that had fallen to the floor and folding it neatly into a square. She hugged it against her body. ‘Shall I make you some coffee?’

  ‘You don’t have to wait on me, Isabella.’ The gruff note in his voice nicked at her fraught nerves.

  She placed the throw rug over the end of the sofa and straightened. ‘Are you usually this grumpy in the mornings?’

  ‘Grumpier.’

  She raised her brows. ‘Even after a night of hot sex?’ You should not have asked that.

  Something darkened in his gaze. ‘There’s not usually someone around in the morning to witness my mood.’

  Izzy frowned. ‘You mean you don’t allow sleepovers?’

  ‘No.’ There was an emphatic tone to the word that made her wonder what made him insist on such a rule.

  ‘Is that in the playboy’s rulebook? No emotional entanglements, no cosy pillow talk?’

  His mouth moved in a wry smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I don’t like giving mixed signals. Sex is sex. It’s not a promise of forever.’

  ‘But what if you see the same person for a few weeks or even months? You’ve had such relationships, surely?’

  ‘Occasionally.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I don’
t like morning-after-the-night-before scenes,’ he said. ‘It’s much simpler to make sure they don’t happen in the first place. Then no expectations get raised. No one gets hurt.’

  Izzy studied him for a moment. ‘It kind of makes me wonder what sort of women you’ve dated. I wouldn’t be too keen on a man who didn’t want to see me wake up beside him the next morning. I’d find it insulting if he asked me to leave once the deed was done.’

  ‘I make sure they’re more than adequately compensated.’

  ‘What with? Flowers, chocolates or designer jewellery delivered to their door the next day?’

  ‘No jewellery.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s too...personal.’

  Izzy moved across to the tea and coffee making area in the suite, busying herself with the task of making herself a cup of tea. She didn’t want to think about the women he’d dated. Or the fact that he’d bought her a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring and wedding ring. What did that mean? But the voice of reason came down hard on her silly romantic musing. It meant he wanted everyone to think this was a real marriage and not a six months sham. She turned to glance at him over her shoulder. ‘Are you sure about that cup of coffee?’

  ‘Quite sure.’

  Izzy reached for a luxury muslin teabag and dropped it into her cup. ‘I guess I should congratulate myself on being the first woman you’ve bought jewellery for.’ She turned and looked at him again. ‘Or do you want me to give the rings back when we annul this marriage?’

  His eyes went to her mouth, lingering there for a heart-stopping moment as if wondering if their marriage was ever going to stay unconsummated. His gaze returned to hers but a screen had come up. ‘They’re nothing but props. You can keep them or give them away or sell them. It doesn’t matter to me.’ He turned and strode to the suite she had not long vacated.

  After a few minutes she heard the shower running and she sat and quietly sipped her tea, trying not to picture him naked under that hot stream of water where she had showered not half an hour ago.

  * * *

  Andrea stood under the punishing spray of the shower, trying to wash away his unruly desire. He’d made a promise to keep their marriage unconsummated but every time he was within touching distance of Izzy his body went on high alert. Every cell in his body wanted her. He ached with the need to hold her, to feel her body pressed against his, to feel her response to him. A response he knew would be as passionate and heady as her kiss had been. Knowing what he did now about her father made him even more determined to keep his promise. But Izzy seemed determined to poke at his resolve to see if it was as firm as he claimed.

  He closed his eyes under the shower spray but he could still picture her mouth. Could still feel it moving beneath his. How many times had he wanted to forget about his damn principles and stride into that bedroom last night and join her in that bed? Desire had throbbed in him all night in fierce combat with his resolve to resist the temptation. It had made it impossible for him to sleep. All he could think about was Izzy lying on his sheets next door, her hair splayed out over his pillow, her slim sexy limbs stretched out and her gorgeous breasts on show. The breasts he fantasised about touching, caressing, kissing until she whimpered with the same longing he could feel thrumming in his blood.

  How would he survive six months of this torture?

  He would go mad in the process. He wondered now if it was a mistake to whisk her with him to Italy, but the London paparazzi were unbearable. At his private villa in Positano he could at least keep such intrusions to a minimum. And his long-term housekeeper, Gianna, was the soul of discretion. Gianna was the only person he would trust with the secret of his marriage to Izzy.

  No one else must know it wasn’t the real deal.

  Andrea stepped out of the shower and roughly dried himself, trying not to think of how Izzy had stood in this very spot earlier. Her used towel was hung neatly back on the rail, her cosmetics tidily put back into her toiletries bag. There was a trace of her flowery perfume lingering in the air.

  When he came out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips, Izzy was sitting on the end of the king-sized bed scrolling through her phone. She looked up and her eyes darted to the towel and then back to his gaze. She sprang up from the bed, her cheeks staining a soft pink. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed.’

  Andrea shouldn’t have reached for her. His mind said, Don’t do it, but his body had other ideas. Wicked, forbidden ideas over which he had no control. His fingers encircled her slim wrist and he felt the flutter of her pulse under the pad of his thumb. ‘Don’t run away.’ His voice was so husky it sounded like he’d swallowed a handful of gravel.

  Her eyes rounded and her throat moved up and down over a swallow. ‘I thought you said we were going to be sensible about this...?’

  Andrea lifted her hand to his face, pressing a kiss to her bent knuckles. ‘I said no sleeping together. But I didn’t say no touching. We’ll be expected to touch in public. It would look strange if we didn’t.’ Even he could hear how he was rationalising his behaviour, but he didn’t much care. He felt like he would die if he didn’t touch her.

  Doubt flickered in her gaze. ‘What sort of touching?’

  He slid his hand along the side of her face until his fingers were enmeshed in her fragrant hair, the silky strands tickling his fingers. Her eyes shone with anticipation, the same anticipation he could feel rolling through his body with unstoppable force.

  ‘This,’ he said, bringing his mouth to within a breath of hers. He didn’t touch down, but nudged her soft lips with his, once, twice, three times.

  Her lips quivered as if she was fighting her own battle to resist the temptation he had laid before her. Her breath mingled with his, sweet and fresh with a hint of vanilla. Her tongue crept out and left a layer of moisture on her lips. He moved that little bit closer to her, his thighs coming into contact with hers. He could feel the quake of awareness that shot through her like aftershocks. Her breasts bumped into his chest. He placed a hand at the small of her back and pressed her closer, his body erupting into flames when he felt her softness against his hardness. He was intoxicated with her closeness. The smell of her. Her womanly heat igniting him like a match to tinder.

  His mouth covered hers and he swallowed her sigh of pleasure. Her arms came up to link around his neck, her body pressed so tightly against him he could feel every soft pliable contour. Her mouth opened under his, her tongue tangling with his in a sexy duel that made his blood head south in a throbbing gush. He took control of the kiss, holding her face in his hands to get better access, his tongue stabbing and flicking against hers in a mimic of what his body wanted more than anything. He finally lifted his mouth off hers, resting his forehead against hers as he fought for control. ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.’

  Izzy’s hands began to toy with his hair, sending hot darting tingles down his spine and deeper into his groin. ‘It’s just a kiss...’ Her eyes met his. ‘Isn’t it?’

  Andrea wasn’t sure if he had the self-control to just kiss her. What had he been thinking? He was pushing himself beyond his limits. Torturing himself with what he wanted but couldn’t—shouldn’t—have. He traced her mouth with a lazy finger, watching as she quivered again against his touch. ‘You have such a beautiful mouth.’ He couldn’t seem to keep the gravel out of his tone.

  Her eyes went to his mouth, the tip of her tongue sneaking out to moisten her lips once more. ‘Yours isn’t so bad either.’ She brought one of her hands down from around his neck to trace over his bottom lip. ‘It’s a lot softer than it looks.’

  He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to the tip of her finger, holding her gaze with his. ‘There isn’t a whole lot of me that’s soft right now.’

  Her cheeks were delicately tinged with pink. ‘So I can feel.’ She moved against him, a subtle shift that sent an earthquake of lust through his body. Hi
s self-control strained at the leash like a rabid dog. Blood pounded and pulsed through his veins, driven by raw primal need. Had he ever wanted someone as much as he wanted her? Or was it because he had made a promise to himself not to have her? There was a war inside him. A raging battle he wasn’t sure he could win.

  But he would have to win it.

  He couldn’t allow things to get any more complicated than they already were. But a kiss or two was fine. That wasn’t going to do any harm...was it?

  He gripped her by the hips, holding her to him, not caring how much it was torturing him. He wanted. Wanted. Wanted her with a need so great it blasted every other thought out of his head. He brought his mouth back down to hers, crushing her to him, his tongue tangling with the moist heat of hers. He slid his hands down the sides of her body and then up again, slipping underneath her top and travelling up her smooth skin, stopping just below the satin curve of her breasts. He stepped back from her with a willpower he hadn’t known he possessed, his body thrumming, humming, aching with need.

  Disappointment flared in her eyes. But then her expression became masked and she stepped away from him and straightened her clothes. ‘What time is our flight?’

  Andrea tried not to look at her kiss-swollen mouth and the little patch of stubble rash on her chin. Seeing that intimate marking on her soft creamy skin made something in his stomach slip sideways. He tightened the towel around his hips and moved across to the wardrobe to dress. ‘We leave at eleven a.m. Your things will be sent on from your flat. If you need anything else we can buy it in Italy.’ He closed the wardrobe and turned back around but she had gone.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A FEW HOURS later they arrived via chauffeur-driven car at Andrea’s private villa high on the slopes above the seaside village of Positano. Izzy hadn’t been to the Amalfi coast for years and yet it was as magical and picturesque as she remembered it. The startling blue of the ocean below, the wincingly bright sunshine from a perfectly clear sky and the scent of fragrant blossom from the luxurious garden at the villa made her senses sing with joy. Scarlet bougainvillea cascaded from a stone wall, standing pots and hanging baskets of red and white geraniums provided more eye-popping colour. Birds twittered in the shrubs and hedges behind, and in front of the villa was an infinity pool that overlooked the view of the coast below. It was picture postcard perfect and Izzy couldn’t imagine a nicer place to hide away from the penetrating eyes of the public and the press.