by Maya Blake
Heat burst beneath her skin and he laughed softly.
‘You blush with the ease of an innocent.’ He trailed his hand down her throat, lingering at her racing pulse, before it curved around one breast. ‘It’s almost enough to make me forget that you’re not.’ Again that bite, but less ferocious this time, his accent growing thicker as he bent his head and tongued her pulse.
She jerked against him, her fingers gliding over his warm skin of their own accord. ‘On what basis do you form the opinion that I’m not?’ she blurted before she lost her nerve.
He stilled, grey eyes turning that rare gunmetal shade that announced a dangerously heightened emotional state. His hand abandoned her breast and curled around her nape in an iron grip. ‘What are you saying, Eva?’ His voice was a hoarse rumble.
She licked nervous lips. ‘That I don’t want to be treated like I’m fragile...but I don’t wish my first time to be without mercy either.’
He sucked in a stunned breath. ‘Your first... Madre di Dio.’ His gaze searched hers, his breathing growing increasingly erratic.
Slowly, he drew back from her, scouring her body from head to toe as if seeing her for the first time. He parted her thighs and she moved restlessly, helplessly, as his eyes lingered at her centre. Stilling her with one hand, he lowered his head and kissed her eyes, her mouth, her throat. Then lower until he reached her belly. He licked at her navel, then rained kisses on her quivering skin. Firm hands held her open, then his shoulders took over the job. Reading his intention, she raised her head from the pillow.
‘Zaccheo.’ She wasn’t sure whether she was pleading for or rejecting what was coming.
He reared up for a second, his hands going to his hair to twist the long strands into an expert knot at the back of his head. The act was so unbelievably hot, her body threatened to melt into a useless puddle. Then he was back, broad shoulders easily holding her legs apart as he kissed his way down her inner thighs.
‘I know what I crave most,’ he muttered thickly. ‘A taste of you.’
The first touch of his mouth at her core elicited a long, helpless groan from her. Her spine arched off the bed, her thighs shaking as fire roared through her body. He held her down and feasted on her, the varying friction from his mouth and beard adding an almost unholy pleasure that sent her soaring until a scream ripped from her throat and she fell off the edge of the universe.
She surfaced to feel his mouth on her belly, his hands trailing up her sides. That gunmetal shade of grey reflected deep possession as he rose above her and kissed her long and deep.
‘Now, il mio angelo. Now I make you mine.’
He captured her hands above her head with one hand. The other reached between her thighs, gently massaging her core before he slid one finger inside her tight sheath. His groan echoed hers. Removing his finger, he probed her sex with his thick shaft, murmuring soft, soothing words as he pushed himself inside her.
‘Easy, dolcezza.’
Another inch increased the burn, but the hunger rushing through her wouldn’t be denied. Her fingers dug into his back, making him growl. ‘Zaccheo, please.’
‘Sì, let me please you.’ He uttered a word that sounded like an apology, a plea.
Then he pushed inside her. The dart of pain engulfed her, lingered for a moment. Tears filled her eyes. Zaccheo cursed, then kissed them away, murmuring softly in Italian.
He thrust deeper, slowly filling her. Eva saw the strain etched on his face.
‘Zaccheo?’
‘I want this to be perfect for you.’
‘It won’t be unless you move, I suspect.’
That half-smile twitched, then stretched into a full, heart-stopping smile. Eva’s eyes widened at the giddy dance her heart performed on seeing the wave of pleasure transform his face. Her own mouth curved in response and a feeling unfurled inside her, stealing her breath with its awesome power. Shakily, she raised her hand and touched his face, slid her fingers over his sensual mouth.
He moved. Withdrew and thrust again.
She gasped, her body caught in a maelstrom of sensation so turbulent, she feared she wouldn’t emerge whole.
Slowly his smile disappeared, replaced by a wild, predatory hunger. He quickened the pace and her hands moved to his hair, slipping the knot free and burying her fingers in the thick, luxurious tresses. When her hips moved of their own accord, meeting him in an instinctive dance, he groaned deep and sucked one nipple into his mouth. Drowning in sensation, she felt her world begin to crumble. The moment he captured her twin nipple, a deep tremor started inside her. It built and built, then exploded in a shower of lights.
‘Perfetto.’
* * *
Zaccheo sank his fingers into Eva’s wild, silky hair, curbing the desire to let loose the primitive roar bubbling within him.
Mine. Finally, completely mine.
Instead he held her close until her breathing started to return to normal, then he flipped their positions and arranged her on top of him.
He was hard to the point of bursting, but he was determined to make this experience unforgettable for her. Seeing his ring on her finger, that primitive response rose again, stunning him with the strength of his desire to claim her.
His words on the plane slashed through his mind.
Sì, he did want this to work. Perhaps Eva had been right. Perhaps there was still time to salvage a piece of his soul...
Her eyes met his and a sensual smile curled her luscious mouth. Before he could instruct her, she moved, taking him deeper inside her before she rose. Knowing he was fast losing the ability to think, he met her second thrust. Her eyes widened, her skin flushing that alluring shade of pink as she chased the heady sensation. Within minutes, they were both panting.
Reaching down, he teased her with his thumb and watched her erupt in bliss. Zaccheo followed her, his shout announcing the most ferocious release he’d experienced in his life.
Long after Eva had collapsed on top of him, and slipped into an exhausted sleep, he lay awake.
Wondering why his world hadn’t righted itself.
Wondering what the hell this meant for him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVA CAME AWAKE to find herself splayed on top of Zaccheo’s body.
The sun remained high in the sky so she knew she hadn’t slept for more than an hour or two. Nevertheless, the thought that she’d dropped into a coma straight after sex made her cringe.
She risked a glance and found grey eyes examining her with that half-smile she was growing to like a little more than she deemed wise.
He brushed a curl from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. The gentleness in the act fractured her breathing.
‘Ciao, dolcezza.’
‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,’ she said, then immediately felt gauche for not knowing the right after-sex etiquette.
He quirked a brow. ‘Oh? Who did you mean to fall asleep on?’ he asked.
She jerked up. ‘No, that’s not what I meant...’ she started to protest, then stopped when she saw the teasing light in his eyes.
She started to settle back down, caught a glimpse of his chiselled pecs and immediately heat built inside her. A little wary of how quickly she was growing addicted to his body, she attempted to slide off him.
He stopped her with one hand at her nape, the other on her hip. The action flexed his arm and Eva’s gaze was drawn to the tattoo banding his upper arm.
‘Does this have a special meaning?’
His smile grew a little stiffer. ‘It’s a reminder not to accept less than I’m worth or compromise on what’s important to me. And a reminder that, contrary to what the privileged would have us believe, all men are born equal. It’s power that is wielded unequally.’
Eva thought of the circumstances that had brought her to thi
s place, of the failings of her own family and the sadness she’d carried for so long, but now hoped to let go of.
‘You wield more than enough share of power. Men cower before you.’
A frown twitched his forehead. ‘If they do, it is their weakness, not mine.’
She gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Are you saying you don’t know you intimidate people with just a glance?’
His frown cleared. ‘You’re immune to this intimidation you speak of. To my memory, you’ve been disagreeable more often than not.’
She traced the outline of the tattoo, revelling in the smooth warmth of his skin. ‘I’ve never been good at heeding bellowed commands.’
The hand on her hip tightened. ‘I do not bellow.’
‘Maybe not. But sometimes the effect is the same.’
She found herself flipped over onto her back, Zaccheo crouched over her like a lethal bird of prey. ‘Is that why you hesitated as you walked down the aisle?’ he asked in a harsh whisper. The look in his eyes was one of almost...hurt.
Quickly she shook her head. ‘No, it wasn’t.’
‘Then what was it? You thought that I wasn’t good enough, perhaps?’ he pressed. And again she glimpsed a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that caught at a weak place in her heart.
She opened her mouth to finally tell him. To lay herself bare to the scathing rejection that would surely follow her confession.
The words stuck in her throat.
What she’d experienced in Zaccheo’s bed had given her a taste that was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. The need to hold on to that for just a little while longer slammed into her, knocking aside her good intentions.
Eva knew she was playing with volcanic fire, that the eventual eruption would be devastating. But for once in her life, she wanted to be selfish, to experience a few moments of unfettered abandon. She could have that.
She’d sacrificed herself for this marriage, but in doing so she’d also been handed a say in when it ended.
And it would be sooner rather than later, because she couldn’t stand in the way of what he wanted...what he’d been deprived of his whole life...a proper family of his own.
She also knew Zaccheo would want nothing to do with her once he knew the truth. Sure, he wasn’t as monstrous as he would have others believe, but that didn’t mean he would shackle himself to a wife who couldn’t give him what he wanted.
She squashed the voice that cautioned she was naively burying her head in the sand.
Was it really so wrong if she chose to do it just for a little while?
Could she not live in bliss for a few days? Gather whatever memories she could and hang on to them for when the going got tough?
‘Eva?’
‘I had a father-daughter moment, plus bridal nerves,’ she blurted. He raised a sceptical eyebrow and she smiled. ‘Every woman is entitled to have a moment. Mine was thirty seconds of hesitation.’
‘You remained frozen for five minutes,’ he countered.
‘Just time enough for anyone who’d been dozing off to wake up,’ she responded, wide-eyed.
The tension slowly eased out of his body and his crooked smile returned. Relief poured through her and she fell into the punishing kiss he delivered to assert his displeasure at her hesitation.
She was clinging to him by the time he pulled away, and Eva was ready to protest when he swung out of bed. Her protest died when she got her first glimpse of his impressive manhood, and the full effect of the man attached to it.
Dry-mouthed and heart racing, she stared. And curled her fingers into the sheets to keep from reaching for him.
‘If you keep looking at me like that, our shower will have to be postponed. And our lunch will go cold.’
A blush stormed up her face.
He laughed and scooped her up. ‘But I’m glad that my body is not displeasing to you.’
She rolled her eyes. As if. ‘False humility isn’t an attractive trait, Zaccheo,’ she chided as he walked them through a wide door and onto an outdoor bamboo-floored shower. Despite the rustic effects, the amenities were of the highest quality, an extra-wide marble bath sitting opposite a multi-jet shower, with a shelf holding rows upon rows of luxury bath oils and gels.
Above their heads, a group of macaws warbled throatily, then flew from one tree to the next, their stunning colours streaking through the branches.
As tropical paradises went, Eva was already sure this couldn’t be topped, and she had yet to see the rest of it.
Zaccheo set her down and grabbed a soft washcloth. ‘Complete compatibility in bed isn’t a common thing, despite what magazines would have you believe,’ he said.
‘I wouldn’t know.’ There was no point pretending otherwise. He had first-hand knowledge of her innocence.
His eyes flared with possession as he turned on the jets and pulled her close.
‘No, you wouldn’t. And if that knowledge pleases me to the point of being labelled a caveman, then so be it.’
* * *
They ate a sumptuous lunch of locally caught fish served with pine-nut sauce and avocado salad followed by a serving of fruit and cheeses.
After lunch, Zaccheo showed her the rest of the house and the three-square-kilometre island. They finished the trek on the white sandy beach where a picnic had been laid out with champagne chilling in a silver bucket.
Eva popped a piece of papaya in her mouth and sighed at the beauty of the setting sun casting orange and purple streaks across the aquamarine water. ‘I don’t know how you can ever bear to leave this place.’
‘I learned not to grow attached to things at an early age.’
The crisp reply had her glancing over at him. His shades were back in place so she couldn’t read his eyes, but his body showed no signs of the usual forbidding do not disturb signs so she braved the question. ‘Why?’
‘Because it was better that way.’
She toyed with the stem of her champagne flute. ‘But it’s also a lonely existence.’
Broad shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. ‘I had a choice of being lonely or just...solitary. I chose the latter.’
Her heart lurched at the deliberate absence of emotion from his voice. ‘Zaccheo—’
He reared up from where he’d been lounging on his elbows, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for me, dolcezza,’ he said, his voice a hard snap that would’ve intimidated her, had she allowed it.
‘I wasn’t,’ she replied. ‘I’m not naive enough to imagine everyone has a rosy childhood. I know I didn’t.’
‘You mean the exclusive country-club memberships, the top boarding schools, the winters in Verbier weren’t enough?’ Despite the lack of contempt in his voice this time round, Eva felt sad that they were back in this place again.
‘Don’t twist my words. Those were just things, Zaccheo. And before you accuse me of being privileged, yes, I was. My childhood was hard, too, but I couldn’t help the family I was born into any more than you could.’
‘Was that why you moved out of Pennington Manor?’
‘After my mother died, yes. Two against one became unbearable.’
‘And the father-daughter moment you spoke of? Did that help?’ he asked, watching her with a probing look.
A tiny bit of hope blossomed. ‘Time will tell, I guess. Will you try the same with your mother and stepfather?’
‘No. My mother didn’t think I was worth anything. My stepfather agreed.’
Her heart twisted. ‘Yet you’ve achieved success beyond most people’s wildest dreams. Surely the lessons of your childhood should make you proud of who you are now, despite hating some aspects of your upbringing?’
‘I detested all of mine,’ he said with harsh finality. ‘I wouldn’t wish it on my worst
enemy.’
The savage edge of pain in his voice made her shiver. She opened her mouth to ask him, but he surged to his feet.
‘I don’t wish to dwell in the past.’ That half-smile flashed on and off. ‘Not when I have a sunset as stunning as this and a wife to rival its beauty.’ He plucked the glass from her hand and pulled her up.
Tucking her head beneath his chin, he enfolded her in his arms, one around her waist and the other across her shoulders. Eva knew it was a signal to drop the subject, but she couldn’t let it go. Not just yet.
She removed his shades and stared into his slate-coloured eyes. ‘For what it’s worth, I gave away my country-club membership to my best friend, I hated boarding school, and I couldn’t ski to save my life so I didn’t even try after I turned ten. I didn’t care about my pedigree, or who I was seen with. Singing and a family who cared for me were the only things that mattered. One helped me get through the other. So, you see, sometimes the grass may look greener on the other side, but most of the time it’s just a trick of the light.’
Several emotions shifted within his eyes. Surprise. Shock. A hint of confusion. Then the deep arrogance of Zaccheo Giordano slid back into place.
‘The sunset, dolcezza,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re missing it.’
* * *
The feeling of his world tilting out of control was escalating. And it spun harder out of sync the more he fought it.
Zaccheo had been certain he knew what drove Eva and her family. He’d been sure it was the same greed for power and prestige that had sent his father to a vicious and premature death. It was what had made his mother abandon her homeland to seek a rich husband, turn herself inside out for a man who looked down his nose at her son and ultimately made Clara Giordano pack her bags and move to the other side of the world.
But right from the start Eva had challenged him, forced him to confront his long-held beliefs. He hadn’t needed to, of course. Oscar Pennington’s actions had proven him right. Eva’s own willingness to marry Fairfield for the sake of her family had cemented Zaccheo’s belief.
And didn’t you do the same thing?