by Lynne Graham
As the familiar countryside passed the windows Ava grew increasingly tense. She was both terrified and exhilarated to be heading back to her childhood stomping grounds. Would she dare to visit her father or her sisters? She thought not, best not to push herself in rudely where she wasn’t wanted. Her father and sisters would only resent her for turning up uninvited on their doorsteps and putting them on the spot. Her eyes awash with moisture, she blinked back tears. She had to put her life back together alone but at least she still had her life.
‘You have a very negative attitude,’ Olly had once scolded her with his easy smile.
But then aside of his mother dying and his father having been an absentee parent, Olly had received a level of security, love and support from adults that Ava had never known. She knew that that was why she was prickly, suspicious of people’s motives and always prepared for the worst. As the limo waited for the giant electric gates to open at the foot of the castle drive Ava’s heart was in her mouth and she felt like scrambling out of the car and running away. Of course people were going to think she was utterly shameless and insensitive to come and stay at Bolderwood after what she had done!
The car headlights illuminated the rambling Victorian mansion in the distance. Complete with four turrets and a forest of Elizabethan-esque chimneys, the original architect had recklessly borrowed the style of almost every previous age to embellish his creation. Ava had always thought it was a madly romantic house built in the days when owners had loads of staff and constantly entertained guests. Vito had a very large staff but kept the entertaining to the minimum. Throwing open the doors of his private home for the Christmas party was a major challenge for a male who happily lived behind locked gates and electric fences the rest of the year.
Eleanor Dobbs, the slim brunette housekeeper in her thirties, greeted Ava at the imposing front door. ‘Miss Fitzgerald,’ she said without an ounce of discomfiture. ‘I’ll show you straight up to your room so that you can get unpacked.’
‘Just make it Ava,’ Ava urged, her cheeks flushed with intense self-consciousness. ‘How have you been?’
‘It’s been quiet here since your last visit,’ the older woman remarked on her efficient passage up the sweeping staircase. ‘We’re all very pleased that the Christmas party is to be held again.’
A fixed smile on her taut face as she made determined small talk, Ava found herself standing in the principal guest room without quite knowing how she had arrived there. It was a massive room with a charming en suite bathroom in the turret complete with window seat. A fire burned in the grate of the marble fireplace, flickering shadows across warm brocaded walls and antique mahogany furniture. She stared in astonishment at the imposing four-poster bed draped in embroidered gold silk.
‘Why have you brought me in here?’ Ava whispered.
‘Mr Barbieri asked me to prepare this room for you,’ Eleanor advanced.
Ava froze. ‘Where is Mr Barbieri?’ she asked tightly.
‘I believe he’s in his bedroom.’
The housekeeper departed and Ava expelled her pent-up breath in a hiss while she scanned the opulence of the room. Totally unsuitable, she reflected incredulously. Vito could not put her in the main bedroom reserved for only the most honoured VIPs. My goodness, there was even a fire burning in the grate! Harvey, no slowcoach at spotting the most warm and comfy place in the room, settled down on the rug and lowered his shaggy head down on his paws.
‘Don’t bother getting comfortable,’ Ava warned him ruefully. ‘We’re not staying in the five-star accommodation!’
Leaving Harvey, she crossed the landing at a smart pace to knock on Vito’s bedroom door while she waited outside with folded arms. When there was no answer she knocked again and waited with mounting impatience. Finally she just opened the door and went in, only to stop dead on the threshold at the sight of Vito emerging from his en suite clad in only a pair of black briefs.
For a split second she simply stared, eyes wide, mouth dropping open in shock and awkwardness. He had an incredible body because he worked out and swam regularly in the basement fitness suite. Vibrant skin the colour of honey glowed in the lamplight, drawing attention to his powerful shoulders, truly remarkable abs and a stomach as flat as a washboard. Short black curls accentuated his pectorals while a silky dark furrow of hair ran down over his concave belly and disappeared below the waistband of his briefs. With her attention lingering in that most private area, embarrassment bit deep into Ava and she spun around, rejecting the view and presenting him with her back. ‘I’m so sorry … I didn’t mean to interrupt you—’
‘At least close the door,’ Vito said drily.
She shoved the door shut, her face so hot she thought eggs could have fried on it. What on earth had she been doing staring at him like that? As if she’d never seen a half-naked man before—she hadn’t, though, apart from on the beach. Her lack of experience at almost twenty-two years of age affronted her pride. She was a case of arrested development, imposed by her years locked away in prison. Obsessed with Vito before she lost her freedom she had missed out entirely on the phase of youthful experimentation.
‘Che cosa a successo … what has happened?’ Vito drawled, cool as ice water with an edge of mockery.
Ava spun back to him, catching the sardonic hint of amusement written on his face as though on some level he relished her discomfiture. ‘I came straight to find you because you simply can’t plonk me in the main guest room!’ she shot at him. ‘It’s a very bad idea.’
Engaged in drawing up the zip on a pair of close-fitting designer chinos, his magnificent torso providing a stunning display as his hips arched back and the ropes of muscle across his abdomen flexed, Vito had never looked more assured or calm. Being half naked in her presence clearly did not trouble him in the slightest. ‘Let me decide what is appropriate,’ he advised.
‘Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?’ Ava snapped back at him heatedly, inflamed by his refusal to take the subject seriously. ‘Obviously I can’t trust you to do what is appropriate!’
His black brows were level above his spectacular dark deep-set eyes. ‘This is my house and I am the best judge of that. What I say goes here.’
His arrogant unconcern infuriated Ava. ‘How can you completely ignore how other people will feel about me staying here?’
An ebony brow lifted. ‘It’s none of their business.’
‘You have a hell of an attitude problem, Vito!’ Ava hurled.
‘Agreed,’ Vito fielded softly as he reached for the shirt draped over the back of a chair. ‘I never could stand being told what to do.’
The crack was not lost on Ava. She reddened, her lush mouth compressing. ‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do—’
Vito studied her with interest, noting that she had chosen to travel in her office skirt and shirt, the violin curves above and below her tiny waist pronounced in the outfit. He wanted to rip the restrained garments off her, clothe her in excessively feminine silk and lace lingerie so that he could picture her lying on his bed without even stretching his imagination. Seeing her in his bedroom, he decided, was a disturbingly intimate experience.
‘Sì, you are. You’re a real little bossy-boots—you always were,’ he riposted, watching her succulent lips part in surprise at the comeback, recognising the flare in her bright blue eyes with wicked anticipation.
Ava threw her head high, thick silky hair shimmering like a fall of molten copper round her cheekbones, eyes huge and fiery with defiance. ‘I am not a bossy-boots!’
‘Olly always did as he was told,’ Vito murmured silkily. ‘But be warned—I don’t. You’re in the main guest room purely because it was my decision to put you there.’
‘Then put me somewhere a little more humble!’ Ava cut in angrily.
In the strained silence that stretched in the wake of her demand, the atmosphere hissed and buzzed like a crackling fire.
‘No,’ Vito responded, sliding a long arm smoothly into his shirt, his m
ind still engaged in imagining her on his bed seductively clad in little frilly bits of nothing. The pulse of urgency at his groin made him clench his teeth together. Desire, he recognised in exasperation, levelled all boundaries and defences.
‘But I’m not an honoured guest here, I’m an employee!’ Ava pointed out furiously. ‘I should be staying in the staff quarters—’
‘No,’ Vito said again very quietly. ‘I stand by my decision.’
‘But it looks bad—’
Vito pulled on the shirt. ‘You’re a bright girl, Ava. Work it out for yourself.’
‘Work what out?’ Ava flung back at him in frustration. ‘It’s obvious that you can’t treat me like a special guest without causing talk.’
Vito moved forward, the open shirt fluttering back from his strong muscled torso. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t you spend three years in prison in punishment for your crime?’
Ava lost colour and her gaze dropped uneasily from his. ‘Obviously I did.’
‘So, you were tried and sentenced and you paid the price society demands. Where does it say that you have to go on paying?’ he enquired impatiently. ‘I put you in the principal guest room because if I treat you with respect everyone else will take their lead from me and award you the same level of respect.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ she protested in a gruff undertone.
‘It is,’ Vito contradicted with serene confidence. ‘Don’t allow your insecurities to make it seem more complicated.’
A tempest of rage roared through Ava like a dam breaking its banks and she flung her head back, coppery hair dancing round her slim shoulders. ‘I don’t have insecurities!’ she slammed back at him, defending the pride that was all she had left.
‘Ava,’ Vito countered very drily, ‘you’ve always been a seething mass of insecurities.’
‘That is not true … that is so totally untrue!’ Ava hurled back at him tempestuously.
‘Madonna diavolo … tell the truth and shame the devil,’ Vito urged, lifting a hand and trailing a long finger mesmerically slowly along the length of her full lower lip.
Ava jerked her head back, startled by the tingle of awareness his touch ignited, which was already travelling straight to the heart of her body. ‘Don’t touch me …’
‘You don’t mean it,’ Vito husked, shifting closer still to angle his handsome dark head down and lower his mouth to hers. ‘You and I both know you don’t mean it.’
CHAPTER FIVE
VITO settled a hand on the shallow indentation at the base of Ava’s spine and tilted her forward into potent contact with his lean, powerful body. The heat and the ferociously physical feel of him against her shrivelled her defences, even before the hungry urgency of his mouth on hers blew them away completely. Locked to him, she swayed, knowing she had never dreamt that a kiss could make her feel so much. His pure passion called out to her and awakened a desperate craving for more.
She kissed him back eagerly, too worked up even to worry that her kissing might be of the amateur variety, too afraid that he might back off again as he had done twice before. As that subconscious fear penetrated she closed her arms round him, inviting, encouraging, no rational thought involved in the action. The piercing invasion of his tongue inside her mouth sent the blood racing like crazy through her veins and accelerated her heartbeat. Nothing had ever felt that necessary to her, nothing had ever felt that right.
‘Per l’amor di Dio, Ava,’ Vito growled against her mouth. ‘You drive me crazy.’
‘Is that bad?’ Ava queried, stretching up on legs that suddenly felt too short to plant a kiss against the unsmiling corner of his handsome mouth.
Vito twisted his head to capture her lips again with a deep groan that vibrated inside his powerful chest, big hands cupping her hips to force her closer so that she was sensually aware of his arousal. Involuntarily she rejoiced in his affirmation of her feminine power. The musky designer scent of him flared her nostrils and she shivered as he suckled her lower lip and the moist sweep of his tongue tangled with her own, other sensations that were yet more seductive taking charge of her as she pressed the tingling heaviness of her breasts into the hard wall of his chest.
She didn’t feel the zip of her skirt going down, only registered its fall round her ankles a split second before he lifted her clear of its folds and brought her down on the bed. Boy, was that a smooth move, she thought helplessly, just a little unnerved by such active proof of his experience and the fact that she was already on the bed without having decided to let him take her there. So, stop this now, stop acting like you can’t control this, a dry little voice pronounced inside her confused head. A few kisses were one thing, more than that something else entirely. And although when she was younger she had often fantasised about occupying a bed with Vito in it, reality was a great deal more daunting. She could not forget Olly calling his big brother a predator with women. As Vito flipped off her shoes she sat up against the pillows and drew her knees up in a nervous gesture. Discarding his shirt, he came down on the foot of the bed and that fast, her troubled eyes drawn to his gleaming honey-coloured torso, she was lost to all common sense.
Her fingers spread across his warm flesh but he had his own ideas. He smoothed her slim legs flat and embarked on her shirt buttons, kissing her every time he released one. Air rushed in and out of her lungs and caught in her throat. She braced her hands on his satin-smooth shoulders. Her shirt vanished and with it her sensible cotton bra. He caressed the soft ripe swell of her breasts with appreciative hands, long fingers expertly teasing the throbbing peaks until a little moan escaped low in her throat. He took that as an invitation to dip his dark head and continue the delicious torment with his tongue. As he caressed her the tide of sensations rippled down her body and she felt an urgent heat building between her thighs.
‘Don’t stop touching me, gioia mia,’ Vito urged, golden eyes smouldering with hungry appreciation as he looked down at her.
Colour flushed her cheeks and her fingers slid down over the tense muscles of his stomach and over the smooth cotton of his trousers to the hard bulge below. With a roughened exclamation, Vito released the button on his chinos and ran the zip down, his eagerness exciting her. Skimming the briefs out of her way with an unsteady hand, she ran an exploratory fingertip over his erection. He was velvet on steel, smooth and hard. While he lifted his hips every time she touched him it did not seem the right moment to consider the fact that there was a good deal more of him in that department than she had dimly expected. Ignorance pushed aside, because she was ready to learn from discovery, she bent her coppery head to take him in her mouth.
‘No, I want you now,’ Vito protested, drawing her up to his level again to crush her generous mouth under his with erotic force. ‘Is this what you want?’
Ava blinked, languorous blue eyes momentarily bemused. What she wanted? No problem answering that question and no hesitation for she suffered not a shade of doubt: him, absolutely only him. ‘Yes …’
His fingers drifted down the long line of her slim thigh and she trembled, wanting, needing almost more than she could bear, wondering wildly if everyone felt every tiny caress so strongly and craved as much as she did. Or had the years she had spent shut away from the world made her rather more desperate? The thought shamed her, somehow forcing her to think of the caution she was abandoning. But then just once she wanted to go with the flow, experience rather than pre-plan. She gazed up at him, outwardly tranquil until she collided with the hot glitter of desire in his eyes. He was gorgeous. He was everything she wanted. How could she fight or deny what she was feeling?
‘I love your body, cara mia,’ he told her huskily. ‘You’re beautiful.’
In that moment he truly made her feel beautiful and she smiled dreamily, not believing but willing to credit that in the heat of passion she had magically acquired a special lustre in his eyes. As she watched him wrench off his chinos her heart began to beat very fast again. She didn’t want to think and s
he tuned out her anxious thoughts but they broke through to the surface of her mind regardless, insisting on being heard. This was sex, nothing more to Vito, she reasoned reluctantly. She knew that, had to accept it. It never was anything more to him and she wasn’t naïve enough to think that anything more than intimacy might come from it. The exhilarating spark of attraction that had always leapt between them was finally finding expression and it felt inevitable, something that would have happened no matter what she did.
Her panties seemed to melt away during another bout of heated kissing. She loved the taste and fire and strength of him. He stroked her soft, needy flesh below and she trembled as he slid a finger into her, while his thumb rubbed the madly sensitive little bead of her clitoris, making her tremble with delight.
‘You’re so wet …’ he told her fiercely.
Shame engulfed Ava but she quivered as sensation drowned out everything in sweet waves she could hardly withstand in silence. Little whimpers escaped her throat in spite of her attempt to hold them back. She twisted as if she were in a fever, all control wrenched from her by the pleasure and the tormenting anticipation. He shifted away from her, leaving her body throbbing and pulsing with need and impatience. She heard the sound of foil tearing, knew he was donning protection and then he returned to her, rearranging her limbs with indisputable expertise. In one sure deep thrust he entered her and a choked cry of pain parted her lips, the sharp jab of discomfort unexpected and unwelcome.
Vito froze above her in shock, shaken dark golden eyes clinging to her hectically flushed face. ‘I am the first?’ he demanded in disbelief.
‘Don’t make a production out of it,’ Ava urged, so embarrassed that she could not even meet his eyes. It hadn’t occurred to her that it might hurt the first time. She hadn’t thought about that aspect, had just lain back and expected nature to take its course, but possibly he was a little too passionate and well endowed for so relaxed an approach.