by Annie West
Ice clamped his chest as he recalled the stark anxiety in her eyes when he’d confronted her in the boathouse. His fear for her had made him lash out and she’d withdrawn, dragging herself to her feet. Had she thought he’d strike her?
Dario’s heart hammered as guilt scored him.
‘What made him hit you?’ The thought of her, crumpled at the foot of the staircase in Mangano’s ostentatious mansion, made him ill.
‘I stood up to him,’ she murmured in a voice so low he barely heard. ‘A friend had a party and for once I was determined to go. It was a 60s retro night, everyone wore miniskirts or flares. But it wasn’t wild. Her brother even drove me home.’ She paused and he felt her draw in a deep breath. ‘I’d hoped to slip in quietly but my grandfather was up late because you’d visited unexpectedly.’
Memory blasted Dario. Of how he’d sat in his car outside the Mangano house, seething at the old man’s insistence on marriage to his granddaughter. Dario had seen her, bare legs and long, loose hair, smiling at the guy who’d driven her home. Even in the gloom she’d been breath-stoppingly gorgeous. He’d been jealous as hell of the youth, just because he’d been on the receiving end of her megawatt smile. The memory had infuriated him ever since because of its unfailing ability to stir his libido.
‘So, it was punishment for being out without permission. But you weren’t a child.’ There’d been no mistaking her for anything but a full-grown woman.
‘I lived there till Donna was old enough to go too. I couldn’t leave her with him.’ Alissa shifted as if to move away and he firmed his hold till she subsided against him. Did she have any idea what it did to him when she wriggled like that? Her perfectly rounded bottom was pure invitation against his groin. His boxers were no barrier to desire. Jagged darts of heat speared him as he fought not to react.
It took a moment for her next words to penetrate his rapidly fogging brain. ‘He was angry about the party. But what really did it was our argument about you.’
‘Me?’ He shook his head, trying to clear it of subversively potent images of Alissa inciting him to take her. ‘You argued about me?’
She nodded and her hair slid against his bare chest, a silken caress that loosened all the power in his limbs.
‘He demanded I marry you. He’d talked about it before but I don’t think he believed it was a real possibility until you visited.’ The uninflected way she spoke chilled Dario to the marrow. He sensed the pain it hid.
‘He was so excited, so determined that I obey. He wanted it arranged as soon as possible.’ The chill became a hoar frost of tension.
‘What happened?’
‘We argued. He demanded I sign a marriage contract and I refused.’ Alissa paused long enough for Dario to count the blood pulse three, four, five times in his ears. ‘The old man lost his temper and lashed out. I went to hospital with a broken arm and a cracked rib.’
Her words, so matter-of-fact, revealed a horror he’d never guessed at. He felt contaminated, dirty, realising he’d unwittingly been culpable in injuring her. If he’d continued to refuse Mangano’s scheme as he had originally, this wouldn’t have happened.
‘I can’t breathe,’ she gasped and Dario discovered he was squeezing her in a vice-like grip. Instantly he loosened his hold, his body trembling with the force of a fury that had no outlet.
‘I’m sorry, Alissa,’ he whispered against her velvet-soft cheek. ‘So sorry.’
How much damage had he done to this woman?
No wonder she avoided him. Understanding hollowed his chest. He could barely imagine the stress she’d been under. Only now, with the easing of fears for Donna, had Alissa’s defences weakened. Her formidable control had shattered.
What a burden she’d carried. And for so long. Trying to protect her sister against their monstrous grandfather, and against Donna’s foray into drug abuse.
Then he, Dario, had come on the scene. Another man with money and power. Another man determined to bend her to his will. Determined to believe the worst.
His gut twisted as he realised how he’d compounded her pain, how he’d compounded her fear of being manipulated and abused by a man.
At least he hadn’t beaten her as her grandfather had.
No. Instead he’d forced her, a virgin, to give herself for his pleasure. Self-contempt was a scorching brand burning his innards as he remembered her shock and defiance that night.
By all that was right he should release her instantly.
But he couldn’t relinquish his hold.
Guilt, shame, regret, even his well-honed sense of honour was powerless against the force of his desire—his selfish need for the woman who despised him.
He cradled her close, arms tightening possessively.
He couldn’t let her go. Not yet.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALISSA’S EYES FELT puffy when she woke. The salt tang of tears was still on her tongue.
How long since she’d cried? Years. Soon after her mother died Alissa had learned that, perversely, her grandfather enjoyed her fear and pain. She’d bottled up her emotions and pretended to be stronger than she was.
Until tonight when her worst fear had miraculously been removed and she didn’t need to be strong any more.
Weeping had left her numb and empty. No, not empty. There was effervescence in her blood, a tingle of relief. Donna was safe! The words rang over and over in her brain.
After the heavy, dreamless sleep she felt warm and weightless as if she floated on a tropical sea.
Yet it wasn’t the ocean that cradled her. It was the sinew and flesh and hard muscle of a man. In her sleep she’d snuggled closer to Dario till she lay across him, breast to breast, one foot tucked between his bare knees, one hand in the softness of his luxuriant hair. She threaded her fingers deeper into his locks, overwhelmed by the sense of rightness here in his arms, her lips against the steady pulse at the base of his throat.
Her heart turned over as she remembered how he’d held her, simply held her when she needed comfort. His soothing words, his gentle caress. As if the stranger with the harsh, judgemental expression had never existed and there was only the man who’d made such surprisingly sweet love to her in Sicily. Who’d rescued her from the sea. Who’d organised Donna’s life-saving treatment.
As if, despite what had gone before, he was the one man she could rely on. The one man she could trust.
Which was the real Dario?
His circling thumb at the small of her back made her breath catch. Whorls of pleasure erupted from the spot, twisting with devastating accuracy to all the erogenous zones he’d discovered that night in Sicily. Her lips parted in a gasp that brought the tang of male flesh to her mouth.
In an instant comfort transformed into desire.
All it had taken was one tiny, almost innocent caress.
Last night’s storm of emotion had left her defences shattered. She couldn’t even pretend to indifference. She arched into him like a cat stretching to a caress.
This was right, she knew it in her bones. Logic would call her a fool, but now, bereft of every barrier she’d used to keep the world at bay, this craving wouldn’t be denied. For Dario. For the ecstasy he’d brought to her untutored body. For the potent sense of connection they’d shared, as if, for a few moments, their twin souls joined.
It was irresponsible but she didn’t care. Not now when everything in her confirmed he was the one, this was the time. No matter how short-lived the moment.
She pressed her lips against his neck and slicked her tongue along his hot, salty skin. She almost purred aloud at the taste of him in her mouth.
The thumb at her back was replaced by a hand slipping down, squeezing her bottom till she pressed against him. There she found the rigid proof of his answering need. He felt so good. Restlessly she circled her pelvis. Instantly his hand clamped her motionless against him.
‘You’re barely awake, Alissa.’ His voice was a harsh rumble vibrating in his neck, against her open mouth. ‘Y
ou’d better stop.’
Why? In case she changed her mind? Hardly, not when need thrummed through her like a life force.
Or was it that he didn’t want her? He hadn’t wanted her in weeks. Yet there was no mistaking his desire. She rotated her hips again and was rewarded by a surge of power, bringing his erection hard against her. His fingers tightened on her buttock.
‘Alissa.’ It was a warning growl. The timbre of his voice, low and rough, stirred her senses. He was so very, very male. For only the second time in her life, that knowledge was a potent aphrodisiac.
This might be her only chance to experience again those wonderful sensations. Through all the worry over Donna and outrage at Dario’s actions, nothing had suppressed her yearning for his lovemaking.
Life had taught her that happiness was rare. She determined to seize what she wanted now.
Raising her other hand, she bracketed his skull with her fingers and pulled herself up to plant a kiss on his mouth. His next words were muffled as she slipped her tongue between his lips and kissed him as he’d taught her.
Instantly desire became marrow-deep need. He was big and warm and luscious. She cupped his jaw. The texture of his roughened skin against her sensitive palms sent a jolt of fire to her womb. He tasted...perfect, like dark, bitter chocolate, rich and strong.
Alissa shifted, straddling him as she stretched high. She delved deeper, tongue stroking, till finally, with a rippling shudder of reaction that vibrated through them both, Dario came alive. His tongue tangled with hers, his head angled to access her mouth better. His hand slipped under the stretchy cotton of her nightshirt to mould bare buttocks with long fingers.
His other hand tugged down those silky boxer shorts and Alissa gasped as his erection rose under her. She squirmed and his hand tightened, holding her still as he deepened their kiss. Now his other hand covered her breast through the cotton, stroking, squeezing, then flicking across her nipple.
She groaned and gave herself up to the assault of pleasure. Energy roared through her, spiking with each caress of his hands and mouth. Yet she was filled with a weighted laxness that made her putty in his hands.
It wasn’t enough. She needed him. With a supreme effort she managed to co-ordinate her fingers enough to fasten on her nightshirt and drag it up. He grabbed the hem from her and ripped it over her head.
Alissa wanted to look down at him then. To see the desire in his crystal-grey eyes, to see his hunger for her.
Yet...would his need match hers? Or would it be tainted with pity? Pity he’d felt as she’d told him about her past and her grandfather’s abuse. Pity for the desperation she couldn’t conceal. He wanted her, but surely not with the soul-deep yearning she felt.
Coward that she was, she kept her eyes shut, telling herself it was only physical release she sought. Knowing it for a lie, but unable to face him. Not yet.
‘Alissa.’ The hoarse whisper, the light touch of his fingers at her breasts, almost cracked her resolve. She wanted again that connection, as if they shared their very souls, watching each other as they gave themselves.
But this was enough. It had to be.
With a whimper of pleasure she pressed close, absorbing his sultry heat, kissing him desperately. He matched her lips to lips, tongue to tongue, breath for breath. Her lungs were ready to burst, her blood pounding a desperate rhythm, when he lifted her up away from him. She made to protest but stopped as she felt the blunt, velvety nub of his arousal. She moved back and was rewarded by the feel of him sliding, long and powerful, against her.
‘Dario.’ It was a choked gasp, part plea, part wonder.
Strong hands steadied her, holding her safe as her legs trembled. She planted her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight as the tremor became a shudder of anticipation that shook her whole frame.
‘Come to me, Alissa.’ His voice was a throaty purr. ‘Come to me now.’ He urged her higher. Willingly she rose, felt him there, where she most needed him, then let his gentle guiding pressure bring her to meet him.
Her lips parted in a gasp of ecstasy as they joined. Even the first time he hadn’t filled her so completely. His power and sensuality stole her breath.
He moved and a cry of delight broke from her. Dario clasped her hips, urging her to move. Lights blazed behind her closed lids and spasms of greedy pleasure rippled through her.
‘Please, Dario.’ Her fingers curled into his flesh but he didn’t stop. His movements grew stronger, sharper, coiling the tension to breaking point till with a single smooth thrust he flung her into ecstasy.
Rivers of molten delight filled her, starbursts of sensation as she pulsed in his arms, completely lost to all the world but him. He surged up, higher than she’d thought possible, and flooded her with his warmth. The instant of mutual pleasure grew and expanded as they shared ecstasy.
Finally, shaking, he drew her down, wrapped his arms round her and held her against his juddering heart.
His lips moved against her hair, nuzzling her ear and a belated blast of sensation burst through her. She stiffened then collapsed, boneless.
* * *
Dario scooped her close, astounded by the perfection of what they’d shared. Sex had never been this good. Something about this woman was different—beyond his experience.
Alissa had turned to him. Even after what he’d done to her, taken her virginity to satisfy his lust, misjudged her in the most appalling way. That she should invite him so boldly was a wonder. He’d been hard-pressed to hold back long enough to give her pleasure in return.
Was it just stress, the need for comfort, that prompted her to seduce him? Or desire, strong as his own?
He remembered how she’d kept her eyes shut, as if she couldn’t bear to look at him, even as he pleasured her. Regret was a slow-turning stab of pain low in his belly.
Had she simply used him for the physical release he could provide? He couldn’t blame her if she had.
Yet he wanted more than a frantic coupling in the dark. He wanted her again, and, he realised with a certainty that stunned him, he wanted more than her body.
He wanted all of her.
This was utterly new territory. It defied every certainty he’d constructed for his life and he had no idea where it would lead.
Alissa shifted and his body stirred. That ripple of awareness so soon after satiation was unprecedented. But everything about her was different from previous experience.
This possessiveness was a new phenomenon. He’d never shared his lovers but nor had he felt such a primal sense of ownership. Was it because she’d come to him a virgin? He slid his hands over her curves, hauling her close.
The knowledge he was her first, that all she knew of physical intimacy she’d learned from him, fired his blood. He felt like a conqueror who’d won the best prize.
He wanted... His hand paused in its proprietorial sweep over her hip and thigh. Unseeing, he stared into the cool light of dawn as he realised what they’d just done.
Unprotected sex.
It was unthinkable. Unbelievable. He’d never in his life so lost control that he’d forgotten a condom. Never.
His jaw clenched and his groin tightened as he relived the pleasure of that release, hot and vital with no barrier between them. Pleasure such as he’d never known.
There was no danger of disease, but there was the risk of pregnancy. He waited for the inevitable sense of entrapment to surface.
Alissa sighed and nuzzled his neck. All he felt was satisfaction that he might have planted his seed in her.
What the hell was happening to him?
* * *
Three hours later Dario had showered, shaved and dressed while Alissa slept. He should tackle the mountain of work awaiting him, yet he didn’t leave. He sat in an armchair and pretended to read a report.
His gaze strayed to the woman curled in the centre of the bed. The curve of her bare shoulder and the spill of long, bright hair fascinated him, drawing his attention from fiscal details. Her face,
so beautiful in repose, looked relaxed for the first time in weeks, though smudges of tiredness were visible beneath her eyes.
He watched her wake and stifled rising tension. How would she react? He’d given up all pretence of indifference. Somehow, without him understanding how, she’d become important to him. He needed her. At least till this...fascination wore off, as it eventually would.
‘Hello, Dario.’ His body responded to the huskiness of her just-awake voice. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’
Typically, she’d tackled the issue of his presence head-on. His lips quirked appreciatively. It wasn’t just her body he admired.
‘Good morning, Alissa. You slept well?’ He saw her cheeks flush. Remembering her high colour as she’d climaxed only a couple of hours ago, he felt his body harden.
‘Yes, thanks. About last night...’
He had the impression she chose her words with care. Tension dragged at his sinews, stiffening his muscles. He put the report aside and crossed his ankles, projecting an air of relaxed attention.
‘Yes?’ He watched her sit up, drawing the sheet over her breasts. The sight of her, tousled, pink-cheeked and naked beneath the fine linen, was disconcertingly provocative. He gripped the arms of the chair tight.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, her blush growing rosier as her chin tipped higher. ‘I’m grateful.’
Grateful! She was grateful to him for making love to her? Unable to remain seated, he sprang to his feet. Of all the responses he’d imagined, gratitude wasn’t one he’d considered. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode across to stare out the window.
‘There’s no need for gratitude,’ he said through gritted teeth. It had been his pleasure. All pleasure.
He didn’t want thanks as if he’d done a trifling favour. He wanted her to need him as he needed her.
‘Of course there is.’ Her sincerity made him turn. Her eyes blazed and she held his gaze without blinking. ‘I want you to know I’ll keep my part of the bargain. I’ll be your proper wife, as we agreed.’
Blue fire flashed in her eyes and he knew what she meant by ‘proper’ wife. His senses clamoured, knowing he’d have her just as he’d desired these long weeks.