by Annie West
His tongue slipped along the seam of her lips and it was the most natural thing in the world to open for him. For him to delve into her mouth and swirl delight through her veins. For her to respond with an honesty that eclipsed any vague thought of restraint.
She felt as if she’d waited a lifetime for this.
It didn’t matter that she was a novice and he a master at this art. Eagerness made up for inexperience as she met his need with her own. Their tongues tangled, slid, stroked and goose bumps broke out across her flesh.
Domenico sucked her tongue into his mouth and her pulse catapulted. He nipped her bottom lip and Lucy sighed as pleasure engulfed her.
She leaned back, supported only by his embrace but she had no fear of falling. His arms were like steel ropes, lashing her close. His chest slid against hers and she gasped as electricity sparked and fired through her body, to her nipples, her stomach, the apex of her thighs. Behind the shocking heat came a melting languor that liquefied her bones and stole her will.
She tilted her head, accommodating him as desire escalated and their kisses grew urgent, hungry. She was burning up and so was he, his flesh on fire beneath her hands.
Yes! This was what she wanted from him, had always wanted. Even when she’d spat and snarled, she’d fought this chemistry between them.
Why had she tried to fight it? It was delicious, addictive.
Domenico tasted of the sea and dark, wickedly rich chocolate—a seductive mix. She shivered in sensual overload as he devoured her with a thoroughness that matched every long-suppressed need.
Had he yearned for this too? Had he lain awake, imagining this moment?
The slide of their bodies was pure magic. The thin fabric of her swimsuit was negligible against the heated promise of his body. Lucy pressed closer, revelling in his powerful musculature, the heady scent of his skin and a deeper, musky note of arousal.
He kissed her throat and she arched back, feeling her feminine power even as she knew herself caught in a web of desire. She was utterly open to his caresses, unprotected against his strength. Yet Lucy felt no doubt or fear. Each kiss he pressed to her skin was homage to the spell woven between them.
Rousing herself from drugged delight, Lucy pulled herself higher, rubbing her cheek against his. The friction of his sandpapery jaw sent another shaft of lightning straight to her groin and she shivered in delicious arousal.
She nipped his ear lobe and heard him growl, low in his throat. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. She smiled and did it again, eager at the thought of Domenico reacting to her at the most primal level.
Large hands wrapped around her waist and he lifted her high to sit on something. Domenico pushed her thighs apart and stepped between them, lodging himself at her core.
‘Domenico.’ Her voice was a rasp of pleasure as the fire spread, overriding a belated voice of warning.
She wanted him. Had done for so long. Even in the days when she’d hated him, she’d secretly yearned for this delight. This affirmation. She’d given up trying to puzzle the attraction that smouldered between them. It was enough to let glorious pleasure sweep her away.
Lucy felt the power of his erection between her legs and against her belly and her breath faltered. They felt so right together. It was all she could do not to rock against him, lost in the need for sensual satisfaction.
With an effort of willpower that almost undid her, she opened her eyes and met the mercurial glitter of his. Heat and shimmering silver fire engulfed her.
His hand palmed her breast and she gasped, overloaded with exquisite sensation. It was too much to bear.
She grabbed his neck and pulled him to her, wanting his lips on hers. Needing the dark mystery of their kisses. Needing him.
Long fingers thrust through her hair, tipping her head back as he tasted her in a long, luxurious kiss that curled her toes. His other hand teased her nipple. Darts of heat arced from the spot, making her move restlessly.
Immediately Domenico slid his hand from her scalp, down her spine, to splay over her bottom and drag her up tight against him. He kissed her hard, his tongue delving as his blatantly aroused body surged against hers.
The world tumbled and re-formed. Her blood sizzled like molten metal swirling in a crucible of pure need. Her lips moved against his and her dazed brain almost stopped functioning.
Domenico eased away a fraction as he slipped his hand over her bare thigh to brush the Lycra at the juncture of her thighs. A bolt of lightning slashed through her, jolting every nerve end, concentrating every sense on that point of contact. She grabbed his shoulders.
Wide-eyed she looked up. His face was pared to austere lines that spoke of raw hunger. Gone was his sophistication, stripped to something more elemental.
More dangerous. The words surfaced in her foggy brain as long fingers teased the band of fabric at her inner thighs, sending whorls of fiery pleasure through her.
Desire warred with shock as she realised how far their kisses had taken her. To the brink of fulfilment. To the brink of giving herself to the man she’d called enemy. To the point of baring herself emotionally as well as physically. That was what scared her.
Her hand clamped his as he moved to insinuate his fingers under the fabric. He froze, his eyes turning blindly to hers. His other hand still cupped her breast.
Lucy watched realisation dawn. His eyes lost that unfocused glitter and widened a fraction.
‘I think it’s time to stop.’
It was a wonder he heard. Her voice was hoarse, a frayed thread of sound. Yet he understood. An instant later he’d backed away, his hands furrowing through his thick hair as if he didn’t trust himself not to touch her again.
Lucy swayed, perched on the edge of the boat. Without his support she felt bereft. She bit her tongue to stop herself calling him back. Her eyes ate him up, from the hard jut of his jaw to the dusting of hair across his broad pectoral muscles and the swell of his biceps as he lifted his arms. From the heavy arousal to the storm-dark glint of his hooded eyes.
She wanted him still. Wanted him to step back and obliterate her doubts with the caress of that clever mouth, seduce her into delight with that big, hard body. Every nerve ending danced in anticipation, undermining her resolve.
Fear surfaced. She’d never known how compelling the need for sexual gratification could be. Domenico tempted her to forget everything. She’d thought herself strong and self-sufficient. Yet all it had taken was one kiss to undo every barrier she’d spent years erecting.
What did it mean?
‘You’re right. It’s late.’ He turned away and, to her consternation, Lucy felt disappointment swell.
* * *
After an evening apart breakfast the next morning was full of silences and stilted conversation.
What had got into him?
Oh, he knew what had got into him. He’d desired Lucy from the moment he’d set eyes on her all those years ago.
How could he have come so close to sex, raw and unvarnished, with the woman convicted of killing Sandro? Guilt churned in his belly. Where was his family loyalty?
Gone the moment he held her. Evicted by sexual desire and the conviction Lucy Knight was a mystery he’d just begun to unravel. An enigma who’d haunted him for years. He desperately needed to understand her for his peace of mind.
It wasn’t only desire she triggered. He’d been beside himself with thwarted fury when he realised she’d been attacked by a family employee. His need to protect had been as strong as if she was his responsibility. His woman.
A frisson of warning crept down his spine.
Yesterday’s revelations had rocked him to the core.
For years he’d believed Lucy had engineered their initial meeting. How unlikely a coincidence that she’d literally bump into him, on his fleeting visit to Rome, when she already worked for his brother?
When the revelations had come thick and fast about Sandro’s uncharacteristic weakness for his au pair, the way she’d twis
ted him round her little finger and milked him for expensive gifts, it hadn’t taken a genius to work out she’d tried out the same wiles on Domenico.
He’d picked up the tension in his brother’s household that very morning on his visit, only later realising it was due to a love triangle.
Or was it?
She’d said yesterday she hadn’t known his identity before the trial. It was tempting to think Lucy lied but there was no reason now. Besides, he’d seen real hurt in her face when she’d asked why he’d avoided her. Hell! He no longer knew what to believe.
Could she be innocent?
His blood froze. The idea that he’d misjudged her so badly, letting her suffer for a crime she didn’t commit, didn’t bear thinking about.
He looked across to where she sat, eyes riveted on her breakfast as if it fascinated her.
Never before had she refused to meet his eyes.
He wanted to demand she look at him. He wanted to kiss that sultry down-turned mouth and unleash the passion that had blasted the back off his skull yesterday. Behind that reserve lurked a woman unlike any he’d known. More alive, more vital, more dangerous.
Was he out of control, ignoring what he owed his dead brother? Or were his doubts valid?
‘Mail, sir.’ The maid entered with a bundle of letters. To his surprise she placed an envelope beside Lucy’s plate.
‘For me?’ Lucy frowned. ‘Thank you.’
Who knew she was here? Someone she’d corresponded with via email? He forced himself to take another sip of fresh juice rather than demand to know who’d sent it.
She slipped a finger under the seal and withdrew a sheet of paper, discarding the envelope. That was when he saw a bold, too-familiar logo. It belonged to the magazine that had run her stepmother’s interview.
He clenched his jaw, forcing down bile. Obviously Lucy was making the most of her opportunities, accepting his hospitality while negotiating with the gutter press for a better financial deal.
It shouldn’t surprise him.
So why did he feel betrayed?
So much for the wronged innocent. How often would he let her dupe him?
‘Is it a better offer?’
‘Sorry?’ Lucy looked up into eyes of gun-metal grey, piercing in their intensity.
She blinked, stunned by the change in Domenico. His eyebrows slashed in a V of disapproval and he looked as if he’d bitten something sour.
True, she’d shied away from contact this morning, still shocked by her response yesterday. But there’d been no venom in his voice, no ice in his stare when she’d entered the breakfast room.
‘I assume from your absorption they’re offering better terms than I did.’
Belatedly understanding dawned as he stared at the paper in her hand.
Pain sliced down, sharp as a blade of ice. It tore through her heart, shredding the bud of hope she’d nursed since yesterday. Making a mockery of that warm, sunshine glow Domenico had put there with his protectiveness, his acceptance and his desire.
What an idiot she’d been! How pathetically gullible.
Hadn’t life taught her not to believe in miracles?
Domenico Volpe caring for her, trusting her even a little, would be a miracle. Yet against the odds she’d hoped some of the emotions she’d read in him yesterday had been real.
She’d almost given herself to him!
Lucy cringed at how far she’d let herself be conned.
Crazy, but even more than his sexual hunger or his protectiveness, Lucy missed their camaraderie as they’d snorkelled and watched the sunset. The sense of acceptance and liking. That had been precious. They’d shared things that were important to them both. Memories of their loved ones.
For those few hours Lucy had felt genuine warmth, a spark of liking. Of trust.
Fool, fool, fool. He’d buttered her up to get what he wanted.
‘I said—’
‘I heard.’ She looked from him to the letter in her clenched fingers. There was nothing to choose between them. At least the press was upfront about what they wanted. Domenico had tried to distract her with a show of friendliness.
And she’d fallen for it.
What was one more deceit in a world of disappointment? Yet this one gouged pain in a heart she’d told herself was too well protected to hurt again.
‘It’s an attractive offer,’ she said at last. As if the idea of selling her story to those hyenas didn’t make her flesh crawl. They’d done more than destroy her reputation. They’d harried her poor dad in his last weeks. ‘I’ll have to consider it carefully.’
Distaste burned but maybe she didn’t have the luxury of saying no any more. If she sold her story she’d get enough to start fresh. Hadn’t she earned the right to profit after the terrible price she’d paid?
Maybe if she co-operated they’d leave her alone and she could pretend to be the woman she’d been before.
And pigs might fly. The press would never let her go whilst there was a story to be sold. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, imagining lurid revelations about her attempts to live a normal life. Shocked reactions from neighbours when they discovered a killer living in their midst.
It would never end. Not for years.
She snapped open her eyes and glared as Domenico looked down his aristocratic nose at her.
A silent howl of despair rose. She’d wanted to trust him. She’d begun to open up, to believe he cared.
‘Perhaps I could canvass the other media outlets and see what they’re offering.’
His scowl was a balm to her lacerated feelings. Let him stew!
‘You haven’t already done that? Isn’t that why you spend so long on the computer? Negotiating the best deal?’
‘Actually, no. But of course you won’t believe me.’
He leaned across the table, his eyes flashing daggers. ‘If you haven’t contacted the press, how do they know where you are?’
Lucy shoved her chair back and stood.
‘Perhaps they took an educated guess,’ she purred. ‘Since they knew I was at your palazzo it wouldn’t take much to suppose I’d be at one of your properties. Maybe they’ve written to me at each one. Who knows? Maybe this is the first of a flurry of offers.’ She smiled, injecting saccharine sweetness into her tone. ‘A bidding war. Wouldn’t that be fun?’
He looked as if he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. They clenched into massive fists before him.
Lucy’s bravado ended as she recalled the stroke of those hands across her body. He’d touched her as if she were the most precious thing on earth.
She’d felt precious, desirable, special.
She forced down welling pain.
‘Here.’ She slowed as she walked past, letting the letter flutter to his lap. ‘See what the opposition is offering. Maybe you’ll increase your bid.’
Lucy strode out of the door before nausea engulfed her.
* * *
‘Excuse me, boss. Have you seen Chiara?’
Domenico looked up from his email to find Rocco at the door, concern etched on his face.
‘Isn’t she with Lucy? They spend half the day together.’
‘Chiara said Miss Lucy couldn’t play today. She said she looked upset.’ He paused and Domenico’s stomach dipped. A finger of guilt slid across his neck as he remembered the pain he’d seen on Lucy’s face when he’d confronted her.
After what they’d shared yesterday, and in light of what they’d almost shared, her anguish had been a knife to his gut. It made him feel like a jerk. Even though he was trying to protect his family, he’d been in the wrong.
Maybe because his anger wasn’t about protecting his nephew but himself? Because he’d overreacted when he’d seen her correspondence as he’d felt his illusions shatter?
Lucy Knight got under his skin as no other woman. He’d lashed out because emotion had overridden his brain.
Certainty had become doubt. But was it because he wanted her for himself or because she was innocent?
He circled again and again round the puzzling truths he’d discovered about her.
She had him so confounded he didn’t know what to believe. He’d felt so betrayed this morning, discovering he couldn’t rely on his instincts where she was concerned.
Then he’d read the letter and realised she’d told the truth. The magazine had taken a chance on finding her here.
He’d been boorish and in the wrong. The knowledge didn’t sit well.
‘Chiara didn’t come in for lunch.’ Rocco interrupted his troubled musings.
‘That’s not like her.’ Domenico frowned, anxiety stirring.
‘No. She hasn’t been seen in any of her usual haunts for hours. I’m just about to search for her.’
‘Where’s Lucy?’ Domenico shoved his chair back.
‘She’s already searching.’
* * *
Most of the staff was scouring the shoreline, though no one had voiced their deepest fears, that Chiara had got out of her depth in the water. Domenico strode along the path at the wilderness end of the island, knowing someone had to check the less obvious places. That was how he ran into Lucy. Literally. She catapulted around a curve in the track and into his arms.
Domenico grasped her close. The summer sun lit her hair to gold and he inhaled her sweet fragrance. Yesterday he’d imprinted her body on his memory and now he didn’t want to let her go. Crazy at it seemed, it felt as if she belonged there against him.
‘Please,’ she gasped, her hand splaying against his chest. It trembled. ‘Please, help me.’
‘Lucy?’ He tilted her head up. ‘What is it?’
She was breathless, barely able to talk. Her cheeks were flushed and there was dirt smeared across her cheek as if she’d fallen. Domenico tensed.
‘Is it Chiara?’
She nodded. ‘Up ahead.’ She grabbed his shirt as he made to go. ‘No! Wait.’ She gulped in air and he forced himself to wait till she could speak.
‘You’ll be faster than me. We need rope and a torch. A medical kit too.’