Realising his intention, she shook her head. ‘I don’t want to hear it and I’m not coming back to Italy with you.’ She pressed a hand to her stomach in a fruitless attempt to ease the aching, empty sensation deep down. ‘The truth is, together we don’t work. We’re just incompatible. I’m ready to concede that it’s partly my fault, but I am who I am, Francesco—I can’t change that.’
Francesco closed his eyes and snarled an oath under his breath. He pushed back his anger and let his eyes fall away from her earnest stare. His glance fell as far as the heaving contours of her small, perfect breasts and stopped dead.
He knew they were perfect not because the top was suggestively skimpy, but because he had cupped them in his hands, kneaded the warm, firm flesh and aroused the tight pink nipples with his fingers and tongue.
In his head he could hear her hoarse cry of pleasure as she speared her fingers into his hair, holding him close as her body arched with pleasure.
She had been the most exquisitely sensitive creature; even the sound of his voice could draw the most incredible response from her. Still is sensitive … said the voice in his head.
In his mind he visualised the frustration building up in him as a wall, a crumbling wall with several gaping holes in it.
Breathing harder than he did during a strenuous workout he turned to pick up his clothes from the floor, presenting his back to her. The breathing space afforded him an opportunity to regain some degree of control over the compelling overpowering urge he had to slide his hand under that top and stroke the warm silky skin it covered.
Erin, who had been staring at the smooth, graceful lines of his strong, golden-skinned back with longing, blushed guiltily when he straightened up and looked at her. His lashes skimmed the hard angle of his cheekbones as his darkened glance dropped to her mouth and stayed there.
Erin’s own lashes came down in a dark silky screen. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’ she said severely.
‘There are some levels at which we work very well, Erin.’
She gave a shrug that was meant to convey supreme indifference to the honeyed implication, but spoilt the effect by being unable to hold his gaze.
‘This blushing ingénue act is a little misplaced when you’re talking to a man who has an intimate knowledge of your body.’
Erin’s head lifted with a jerk. ‘If you think I find your arrogance arousing.’ she gritted her teeth and felt the heat fly to her cheeks ‘.and if you think you can embarrass me, Francesco.’ The wolfish grin that spread across his lean face made her voice dry.
‘Oh, I know I can do that, mia bella.’ Their eyes locked and his dangerous smile faded, leaving an intense burning look that was infinitely more dangerous. It was also exciting, but Erin refused to acknowledge this even to herself.
‘What are you doing, Francesco?’ she asked, trying to sound calm and practical and feeling neither as he began to walk slowly but with purpose towards her.
Framing her face in one big hand, he smiled. It was a smile that stripped away the thin veneer of urbane charm he presented to the world. When she looked into his midnight eyes Erin saw the raw, untamed, masculine heart of him.
Her pulses leapt in wild response to the primitive need stamped into every angle and plane of his strong, heartbreakingly beautiful face.
He wanted her, but not in the same way she wanted him; he wasn’t capable of that. She knew there could only ever be sex between them, but the emotions that ached in her throat didn’t understand the distinction.
The fear and fascination she felt was mirrored in her eyes as she looked through her lashes at his face.
His thumb moved gently over the curve of her cheek and her eyelids fluttered briefly. It was a light butterfly caress, but more than enough to vaporise every instinct for self-preservation she possessed.
‘I’m doing this, cara mia,’ he explained in a voice as thick and rich as warm honey. His burning dark eyes roamed over her face, examining every inch of the smooth, peachy pale skin with a hungry intensity, as though he was committing each individual freckle, every soft hollow and curve to memory.
Erin’s throat ached and her heart thudded against her breastbone as, light-headed with anticipation, she waited to feel his mouth on hers. She was sure that if Francesco didn’t kiss her soon she would become the first documented case of someone dying from not being kissed.
A whimper of relief caught in her throat when he did finally bend his dark head and fit his mouth to hers. It was as if she had been waiting a lifetime for this to happen. He kissed her slowly, tasting her, deepening the kiss as her lips parted under the seductive pressure and friction of his mouth.
With a lost sigh Erin slid her slim arms around his neck and leaned into him. She met the stabbing incursions of his tongue with her own, moaning into his mouth and tangling her fingers into the heavy silky strands of his dark hair.
When he lifted her into his arms she did not resist but moaned softly into his mouth. She lay curled up in his arms, her hands linked around his neck, her fingers trailing into the hair on his nape as he strode swiftly down the hallway to a room at the far end and kicked open the door with his foot.
Once inside he walked purposefully over to the large fourposter bed and laying her on it, came to kneel beside her.
The tightness in her chest increased as her hungry gaze roamed over his smooth golden skin. The blood pounded in her ears as she looked at him; he was so beautiful it hurt.
‘This is probably not a good idea,’ she observed in a tone that invited—no, begged for—denial.
‘Do you care?’
Her eyes lifted to his face.
Francesco’s dark, restless glance repeatedly drifted towards her mouth as though drawn by invisible forces to the soft, full, quivering outline.
‘Well, do you?’ he challenged throatily.
Slowly she shook her head.
Asigh that seemed to Erin’s fanciful imagination to be drawn from his soul shuddered through Francesco’s lean frame.
‘I should, though …’ The faint addition was as much for her own benefit as his.
He dismissed her words with an expressive shrug. ‘If we both did what we should life would be very predictable.’
‘But safe.’ At that moment it was hard for Erin to remember what safe had felt like.
He responded to her husky claim by planting a hand either side of her head and kissing her hard, silenced her protest with deep, penetrating stabs of his tongue that made her stomach dissolve.
‘Dio mio,’ he panted against her mouth. ‘I want this … I want you.I want to feel your hands on my skin.’
‘Like this?’ she suggested. Laying one hand palm-flat on his stomach, she felt the muscles under the silky hair-roughened surface immediately contract and quiver as she stroked his damp skin.
Francesco sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes glittered as though lit from within as he slid his warm hands under her top, sliding the fabric up over the twin peaks of her taut, firm breasts to reveal them to his famished gaze.
Even before he had touched her the heat of his bold, hungry stare made the sensitive peaks burn and harden into tight hard buds inside the light lacy covering.
The hunger in his eyes sent her spiralling out of control. She moaned low in her throat and sank her fingers into his hair as he unfastened her bra and cupped the warm mounds of aching flesh in his hands. Drawing them together, he buried his face in the softness before kneading the sensitised flesh and lashing the rosy tips with his tongue.
When he lifted his head there were dark bands of colour across his cheekbones and his eyes glowed as though lit from within.
‘You are perfect!’
I ought to be saying that, Erin thought as he took her face between his hands and kissed her, because he was—totally and absolutely perfect.
After the kiss she didn’t think much at all. She didn’t even realise that he had removed her jeans until she felt the abrasive texture of his hair-roughened thi
ghs against her bare skin.
As they continued to kiss with feverish abandon Erin’s hands moved lower over his flat stomach, skimming then dipping below the waistband of his boxers, causing him to suck in his breath sharply.
‘Is this what you want?’ he asked thickly as he took her hand and fed it onto his body.
As he curved her fingers around the pulsing, engorged length of him Erin whimpered low in her throat and nodded. ‘Yes.’ As she tightened her grip she felt the shudder ripple through his body.
‘And do you want to feel me inside you?’ He took her lower lip between his teeth, feeling the breath escape her mouth in a series of choky gasps. He nuzzled the side of her neck, breathing in the warm, aroused scent of her. ‘Is that what you are imagining?’
‘Oh, God!’ she moaned, dragging his face up to hers. For a split second before her eyes closed he looked directly into the blazing blue of her eyes and saw some of the desperation he felt reflected in those shimmering depths. ‘Yes, Francesco … yes,’ she said before she sealed her open lips to his.
Parting her legs, he lowered himself between them and, running a hand down the curve of one thigh, he curved her leg over his hip, pulling her body up hard against him so that she could feel how much he wanted her.
‘Dio mio, but I want you so badly … tell me you want me.’
Her eyes opened. The pupils were so dilated they almost swallowed up the blue. ‘You know I do.’ ‘I want to hear you say it.’
Self-respect and pride were noble concepts, they might matter a lot in the cold light of day, but she was burning up from the inside out and nothing mattered at all except Francesco.
‘I want you …’ she whispered against his mouth.
As Francesco continued to kiss her his long, sensitive fingers moved in sensuous stroking motions along the curve of her inner thigh, advancing and retreating until, unable to bear the torment any longer, Erin took his hand and placed it against the damp curls at the apex of her legs.
‘Please, Francesco,’ she begged, kissing the sweat-slick column of his brown throat. ‘I need.’
‘Oh, I need also, bella mia,’ he responded thickly as he slid into her wetness. ‘I need this.’
Erin, her head thrown back, a feral moan locked in her throat, arched and clutched at his shoulders as he thrust into her.
‘That is … Oh, God … Francesco … you’re …!’ Her eyes closed tight as she concentrated on the feel of him filling her, her senses were sensually heightened to an almost unbearable degree as he moved.
‘You feel … oh, God, Francesco …’
A moan vibrated in his chest as he felt her tighten hotly around him. He spoke in his own language, the words throaty and passionate spilling from him as he slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her up so that he could sink deeper into her.
Everything that wasn’t Francesco, that wasn’t his voice and his body, faded away. But as he took her to new heights of sensual pleasure one small stubborn portion of Erin’s brain stayed removed from the devouring hunger that drove them both.
‘Let go!’ Francesco urged as if he sensed her holding back. ‘I c … can’t. I’ll fall,’ she heard herself pant stupidly against the sweat-slick column of his neck. ‘Fall, cara. I will catch you.’
She shouldn’t have believed him, but she did. Akeening cry emerged from her parted lips as the pleasure exploded inside her, the sensation heightened when Francesco exploded, too.
CHAPTER TEN
ERIN had almost reached the bedroom door when she heard Francesco stir. His deep voice slurred with sleep, he asked, ‘Where are you going?’ She turned back.
Francesco was raised on one elbow. The sheet that had been covering his body had slipped down to waist level. Not looking would have been too obvious, and also as it happened impossible.
He was quite simply magnificent.
She dragged her eyes back to his face, her colour significantly heightened, her expression carefully neutral.
‘Back to my room.’
Even though they had just made love, looking at her staring at him with those big eyes sent a stab of desire through his body. He consulted the clock on the bedside table, and raised a brow in surprise when he saw four hours had elapsed since he had kicked the door closed.
He sprawled back with indolent grace and, allowing his eyes to travel up her body, thought about the taste of her, the silky softness of her skin as it glided against his own. ‘What are you wearing?’
Erin touched a self-conscious, not quite steady hand to the lapel of the male shirt she wore. ‘My things were wet.’
Sodden on the floor of the shower, to be precise, where they had fallen when he had stripped them from her body two hours earlier.
A memory surfaced in her head. A memory of Francesco standing in the shower, naked, his face lifted to the warm spray.
She had stood there mesmerised, unable to take her eyes off him until without warning his hand had shot out and he had dragged her inside under the warm jets of water.
‘What are you doing?’ she gasped, tilting her face up to his as she pushed the wet strands of water-darkened hair from her face. ‘I told you it was a mistake. It can’t happen again. I know it’s totally my fault—’
‘I think I had some minor input.’
‘Valentina and Sam … the staff—they’ll be back any time. I’m dressed,’ she added weakly when none of the perfectly good reasons made any impact.
Francesco gave a wolfish smile that made her heartbeat quicken in anticipation. ‘Not for long,’ he promised.
‘I’m out of here,’ she retorted, blinking away the wetness from her lashes and not moving an inch.
She could see that lifting her arms as he peeled the wet top off might lead him to believe she wasn’t totally serious in her threat. He might even imagine she wanted him to drop to his knees and pull her jeans and pants down over her hips. An impression that might have gained credence when she grabbed his head and moaned when he pressed his mouth into the damp curls he had exposed.
The memory of the hot, searing sensation as his tongue and fingers had slid between her thighs sent a wave of heat washing over her skin.
Closing her eyes, Erin pushed the erotic images from her head. The effort brought a visible sheen of moisture to her skin. ‘I hope you don’t mind … about the shirt.’
‘Actually I do.’
Startled by his response, she narrowed her eyes warily.
‘I think I might want to claim my property right now.’
Erin swallowed and crossed her hands over her chest in an unconsciously protective gesture.
‘Are you talking about me or the shirt?’ Her laugh only just stopped short of hysteria, but then trying to sound amused while she had a mental image of him slowly unpeeling the shirt to reveal her naked body had always been a non-starter.
One corner of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes; they held a restive glitter that was in stark contrast to his indolent posture.
‘I’ll start with the shirt.’ One hand tucked behind his head, he used the other to pat the bed that still bore the scent of her body. Erin wanted more than she could admit to respond to the invitation in his eyes. ‘Come back to bed.’
Conflicting emotions were tearing her in several directions at once. Just looking at him awoke a lustful ache low in her abdomen. And imagining never spending another night in his arms filled her with panic.
At the same time she knew they had no future—the bottom line was he only wanted her back because of the baby.
‘This shouldn’t have happened.’ Tears formed in her eyes because she didn’t have the faintest idea where to go from here. ‘Look, I’m not pretending it wasn’t very—nice …’
A look of blank incredulity stole across his lean face. ‘Nice?’ he echoed, pulling himself into a sitting position in one smooth motion that sent the quilt slithering to the floor exposing him totally.
She took refuge in flippancy. ‘Well, what do you wa
nt me to say … that it was a life-changing experience?’
His face darkened with displeasure. ‘Almost anything would be an improvement on “nice”.’ he snapped. ‘Remind me not to come to you for a recommendation.’
Oblivious to his naked state, he swept aside the hank of silky dark hair that fell into his eyes.
‘All right,’ she conceded, her eyes falling to avoid the sardonic glitter in his stare. ‘Relax, you were marvellous, though I had no idea that your ego required such delicate handling. Sex with you was always spectacular, but that’s all it is.’ It couldn’t be anything else.
‘You want more than I gave you?’ he challenged with the arrogant confidence of a man who had heard the words of extravagant, breathless praise that had spilled unchecked from her lips when she had lain sated in his arms.
‘I did. I don’t anymore.’ Who are you trying to convince?
Francesco studied her set face with a baffled expression. ‘Could you be slightly less cryptic?’
‘I loved you, I don’t anymore, the sex is still great, but I can walk away.’ I just hope my knees heard that, she thought, afraid that they were going to fold under her any minute. ‘And I’m going to. I’m not going to Italy with you.’
He rose from the tumbled bed naked and breathtakingly magnificent to tower over her. ‘You loved me, but you don’t anymore, which is why you slept with me?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Do you expect me to believe you mean a word of that? Or actually imagine I’m going to let you walk away with my child without a fight?’
She would have walked barefoot over hot coals before she let him see how much the warning scared her. ‘I hope you’re a good loser, Francesco.’
‘I wouldn’t know—I’ve not had any practice.’
And she believed him. ‘You mean you’re a bully.’
He watched one tear escape and slide down her cheek. ‘If you think tears will work …’
‘I’m not crying,’ she denied huskily.
Another tear joined the first and, with a muffled curse, he turned away.
Erin wiped her cheek and watched uncertainly as he pulled a robe from the open wardrobe and belted it loosely around his waist.
Happy Mother's Day! Page 23