by Lynne Graham
He was touching her now as she had never been touched and she was on fire, convinced she was being tortured to death by pleasure. She sobbed just to breathe, her heartbeat thundering madly against her breastbone,
the blood in her veins racing insanely in accompaniment. She couldn't bear it..,
'You're very tight,' Carlo muttered thickly, hesitating.
Her body was at screaming pitch. Instinctively she pulled him down to her, desperate for contact, any form of continuing contact. Untensing, he followed her lead, his hands tipping her up, spreading her thighs. He entered her with one fierce thrust and then stilled, every muscle ferociously taut as he groaned with the nakedness of his pleasure. It hurt so much, Jessica almost passed out with the sheer shock of being forced back to reality.
She twisted her head away to hide her reaction, thankfully feeling the edge of the pain fade away. Carlo uttered a feverish imprecation and stopped.
'I'm hurting you '
Wo!'
'Relax then,' he instructed unevenly.
Pushing his hands beneath her hips, he plunged deeper still into her damp sheath in a rawly powerful invasion. This time there was no pain. In fact he dragged a sob of incredulous delight from her. The pleasure came back in powerful waves, shooting through her in a rejuvenating burst of energy.
He moved with restraint and then slowly, he began to drive into her harder and faster with a shuddering savagery that sent her finally rocketing into an explosive climax of such intensity that a wild cry escaped her and her quivering body writhed uncontrollably under the hard onslaught of his. Groaning her name, Carlo slammed into her one last time and then jerked violently with the force of his own release.
Rolling on to his back, Carlo carried her with him, binding her into his arms so tightly she could barely breathe. Jessica was in a daze, a complete daze, and she lay like a boneless rag doll on top of him, her face buried in the hollow of one broad shoulder, her nostrils flaring sensuously at the hot, moist scent of him.
She was in seventh heaven. In the back of her mind she was already wondering when he would do it again. Her face burned. She was a shameless hussy but she couldn't help it. Nothing could have prepared her for that amount of pleasure. Still in shock at her own response, she felt drugged and incapable, incredibly tender towards him.
Her mouth curved in a silent caress against his bronzed skin. And then it hit her like a bolt of lightning. I love him. A quiver of disbelief ran through her. Carlo instantly tautened his grip on her. I love every rotten thing about him, she registered in growing horror. His temper, his arrogance, his sheer bloody persistence. Mentally, she felt like the ground had suddenly vanished from beneath her feet. The silence began to get to her in her new and tender state of vulnerability.
Carlo was thinking. Strange, how she could literally feel Carlo thinking manipulative thoughts, practically see all those little cogs and wheels spinning ever faster in that far too clever brain of his.
'Extraordinary,’ Carlo murmured softly. 'You felt like a virgin. If it were not for that ring you used to wear, I would be one hundred per cent convinced I had just become your first lover.'
Tense as a bow string, Jessica uttered a strangled laugh.
'Don't be ridiculous ‘
'Was I hallucinating? I hurt you '
She tensed in horror. 'You were rough,' she muttered hurriedly.
Carlo shifted lithely on to his side, taking her with
him. She collided with the full force of blazing golden
eyes and paled but she was still determined to silence
the smallest suspicion he might have. 'It's been a very
long time since '
'Rough...' Carlo sent her a slashing, primal look of thwarted fury and abruptly freed her. He sprang out of bed. 'I need a shower.'
She turned over and found a cool spot on the pillow. Not the most generous of comments, she registered belatedly, scarlet washing her cheekbones. Oh, what a tangled web, she thought guiltily. Deception didn't come naturally to her but a current of fierce pride and loyalty to Simon's memory kept her silent.
'What the hell is this?'
The wrathful incredulity in Carlo's growled demand lifted her pale head. At arms length, Carlo extended a framed photo. He was possessed by such ferocious incredulity, he couldn't hold it steady.
It was of Simon. Her jaw dropped. It had been at the foot of her overnight bag, one of the pieces of luggage she had packed to come here. She had not intended to bring it, indeed had completely forgotten its existence until this moment.
'Where did you get it?' she demanded.
'It was on the dressing-table!' Carlo unleashed, spitting out every syllable with a flash of white teeth.
(I didn't put it there!'
'But you brought it out here with you!' Carlo seethed,
flinging it violently aside. 'Into my bedroom '
'I did not bring it into your bedroom!' Jessica gasped unsteadily.
Carlo strode forward and swooped on her in a tempest of rage. He scared her half to death and she fought with flailing arms and flying fists to fight him off. He dropped her from a height on to a sofa that had all the bounce of a rock. 'You sleep here... I do not want you in my bed!' he delivered.
She was stark naked and absolutely humiliated. He yanked a blanket out of a closet and threw it at her. Clumsily hauling it round her, she headed for the door. 'I am not staying here to be insulted.. .you primitive bloody man!' she scorched back at him.
'You put one toe in that corridor and the electronic surveillance picks you up on camera. My father's security men will have one hell of a laugh. Go ahead!'
She hesitated and then snatched her fingers back from the door-handle as though she had been burnt. Without a single glance in his direction, she made it back to the sofa, rigid-backed but literally shaking with the force of her own fury.
'I thought you might see it that way,' Carlo drawled
with blatant amusement, temper cooled by the rid
iculous picture she made. 'Learn to look on sleeping in
my bed in my arms as a privilege '
'You hateful bastard!' Jessica screamed back at him.
'And by the way.. .you love it rough!' Carlo shot at her for good measure.
'Shut up, CarloV
I do not love him, she told herself ferociously, huddling into a ball, the blanket tangled uncomfortably round her. I do not love him. I hate him! I hate him so much I could burst wide open with it! He's jealous. Carlo was wildly jealous of Simon. How come it had taken her this long to appreciate something that obvious? In the darkness, she smiled, fists unclenching. She didn't care if she didn't sleep a wink. She was fairly certain that he wouldn't either.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUNCH was being served outdoors beneath the leafy splendour of a ring of flame trees. Beyond them, flight after flight of shallow steps adorned with classical statues descended to the white beach below. Lukas Philippides dealt Jessica a fiercely amused scrutiny. Flustered, she dropped down into her seat. One of the maids had awakened her and she hadn't had much time to get ready.
When she glanced up again, Carlo's brilliant golden eyes were wandering with indolent satisfaction over her in a look as blatantly physical as a caress. A deep flush of awareness carmined her skin, making her desperately conscious of the unfamiliar ache between her thighs. Erotic recollections surfaced and she fought them to the last ditch, feverishly embarrassed by her own lack of mental discipline.
While she slept, Carlo had shifted her off the sofa and back into his bed. Out of consideration for her comfort and his own unjustifiable behaviour the night before...or out of a need to set the scene to keep their deception intact? At what stage had she chosen to overlook the fact that it had always been Carlo's stated intent to make love to her for the benefit of that self-same deception? A deep unease assailed Jessica. Now they were lovers, she was far more powerfully aware of the masquerade they were engaged in and she was forced to question Carlo's motives.
Was Carlo simply trying to please his dying father? Or was there a far more mercenary reasoning behind it all? Yesterday she had tried very hard not to think about that. Today, she found that she could think of little else.
Sunny sauntered up, clad in a flowing dress and sunhat, looking vaguely reminiscent of a Twenties film starlet on a picnic. Picturesque and quite stunningly beautiful, she took her seat. Both Lukas and Carlo had watched her progress across the lawn. You had to hand it to her, Jessica thought sourly. Sunny knew how to make an entrance.
Last night, Jessica had wondered if Sunny had a problem with drink and if that might explain her strange visit to her room and her even stranger remarks. But she hadn't behaved then as though she had been overindulging. Neither her speech nor her movement had been impaired. Yet Carlo had been surprisingly unconcerned by his stepmother's conviction that their engagement was a fake.
'A toast...' Lukas announced, raising his glass of wine. 'To Carlo and Jessica. The wedding will take place on Tuesday.'
Jessica's hand jerked and sent her glass over. A pool of red wine spread across the white tablecloth. She collided with Carlo's hooded dark eyes and read the warning there. To say nothing, do nothing.
Sunny sighed and laid a soft hand on her husband's
sleeve. 'I think you've shocked your son, Lukas. Don't
you think this should be his decision?1 she prompted
with a small, deprecating smile. 'I hope you don't mind
me speaking up '
Lukas shook off her hand irritably. 'Since when have I wanted your opinion on anything?' he demanded rudely.
'My thanks,' Carlo murmured softly into the throbbing silence. 'But Jessica and I are not intending to marry until next year.'
'This year, next year!' Lukas responded with abrasive bite. 'You think to deprive me of a father's right to see his son marry?' It was a thunderous demand of disbelief.
Carlo tautened, his dark features clenching hard. He said something in Greek but Lukas slashed a despotic hand through the air and retorted in English, hot temper flushing his drawn face at the threat of his authority being further challenged.
'Enough!' he ground out angrily. 'It is arranged. Already the invitations go out. You people! A little surprise and where is your gratitude?’
As his bloodshot gaze raked the table, seeking dissension, Jessica studied the stained tablecloth. Dear heaven, why hadn't either she or Carlo seen the threat of this in advance? Lukas Philippides was dying. It was surely not that unreasonable of him to want the wedding of his son to take place here and now while he could still enjoy it? So simple, so understandable a wish, that she marvelled that such a danger had not previously occurred to either of them. But somehow, heaven knew how, she conceded dazedly, Carlo was going to have to get them back out of this tight corner! And he only had three days in which to accomplish that feat...
'We will fly to Miami to find a dress,' Marika announced cheerfully.
'You pick a designer,' Lukas interrupted with a curled lip. ‘But he will fly here.'
'I really cannot arrange a wedding in that timespan,’ Sunny said thinly, coldly.
'Whaf s it got to do with you?' Lukas snorted. 'Marika will take care of it all.'
It was without doubt the most strained meal Jessica had ever endured. When Lukas went off to rest, as was apparently his habit in the afternoon, she left the table with relief and started for the steps.
'Jessica...'
Halfway down, she spun, stilled by Carlo's voice. He drew level with her, very tall and very lean and very dark and quite extravagantly gorgeous in the first casual clothing she had ever seen him in. Faded jeans sleekly
encased his narrow hips and long, powerful legs, a short-sleeved cotton shirt open at his brown throat. Hurriedly, Jessica dragged her gaze from him. And then, above at the top of the steps, she saw Sunny standing there, watching them. She looked furious.
'And how do you plan to get us out of the wedding?' Jessica enquired tightly.
Carlo threw back his black head and suddenly laughed. 'I don't!'
She couldn't believe what she was hearing and looked back at him in shock.
"The only escape would be to tell the truth,' Carlo pointed out gently. 'And that is quite out of the question.'
'You could tell him that you're not sure of your feelings for me!' Jessica protested tautly.
Carlo moved on down the steps in front of her. 'That
would be the very last excuse I would offer '
'But why?' Jessica demanded in furious frustration. 'He's been married four times himself! Surely he would understand?'
Carlo didn't respond. Infuriatingly, he moved fluidly on down to the beach. She caught up with him breathlessly.
'Let's go sailing,' he suggested lazily as if the previous conversation had been most definitely concluded.
'CarloV Jessica gritted, struggling to match her pace to the long stride heading in the direction of the wooden jetty where a large and immaculate white yacht was moored.
'We get married, then we divorce,' Carlo breathed impatiently. 'No big deal!'
Jessica couldn't credit his attitude. 'It's a heck of a big deal to me!'
Carlo stilled and scanned her with hooded dark eyes. 'Really, coral You married Turner without love... why not me?'
Attacked by such open derision, she paled. 'That... that isn't true.'
'If you had really loved him, you would never have allowed me to lay a finger upon you,' Carlo murmured drily.
'You're trying to change the subject '
'Why should I need to? We made a deal. Three months of your freedom,' Carlo reminded her, his sunbronzed profile hardening. 'And having seen my father, I think it highly unlikely that he will survive half that period.'
Involuntarily, she felt his pain at that estimation. It was there in his roughened voice and tautening features, but Jessica felt that pain on a deeper level, her own feelings for Carlo heightening her sensitivity. He really did care about his father. For the first time, she acknowledged that truth and the unlikelihood of Carlo's cherishing purely mercenary motives for their fake engagement. Maybe it was all just as it seemed on the surface. Lukas was delighted at the idea of Carlo marrying and Carlo was prepared to pretend to give that pleasure.
'I'm sorry,' she muttered, her throat thickening. 'You must wish you had come here years ago——’
'No. It is only working now on these terms,' Carlo retorted flatly. 'Lukas and I have never got on. I believe it is often so with father and son. Only the lack of time brings us together. It makes me more tolerant and him more generous...'
With a mighty effort of will, she fought an over
whelming urge to close her arms round him. 'You must
have known that he might demand that you marry
me '
'Yes.' Carlo shrugged a shoulder with Latin casu-alness. 'It is a small thing if it contents him.'
'But it is not a small thing to me, Carlo.' They were strolling towards the yacht.
She stared down at the sea, deep blue and then blind-ingly silver where the sun's glare hit the water. One false marriage was enough in any woman's life. She refused to make a second. What Carlo wished to do to placate his father was his business, she told herself, staving off an unwilling stab of sympathy. He had no right to ask such a thing from her, especially when he coolly admitted that he had foreseen this situation arising and had not bothered to warn her.
'I will not hold you a day after his death.'
The assurance hit her like a cruel blow and she despised herself for reeling from that reality as though it were a surprise. She loved him, hopelessly, helplessly, but that did not mean making a sacrificial lamb of herself. Some day not too far in the future, Lukas would die and it would all be over. The deception would end, and with it the affair. She did not want a fake wedding-ring to add to her bitterness.
But didn't she owe Carlo something for the immense kindness and tact he had employed with her own father? O
K, they had made a deal but Carlo could have fulfilled the terms far less generously. A deal... dear God, she reflected painfully, had the giving of her body last night merely been part of the deal as well? Her stomach heaved at the suspicion.
Carlo planted his hands to her waist, taking her by surprise, and swung her with ease on to the gleaming wooden deck of the yacht. Two crewmen emerged. The men talked and Jessica planted her unsteady hands on the shining brass guard rail. Drawn by a need she could not suppress, her troubled gaze clung to Carlo's strong, masculine profile. He was such a mixture of opposites. Kind and cruel. Understanding and judgemental. Tender and rough. Quick-tempered, calculating, secretive but capable of far more true emotions than she had ever believed. And he hated her.
He hated her for marrying another man. She had cast a slur on his manhood, injured his precious pride and he was still seething with a sense of injustice. But how many women would have thrown themselves gratefully into his arms six years ago after the treatment she had received? And by what God given right did Carlo imagine that she should have swallowed such arrogance when on every other level they had been mortal enemies? Yet she could not imagine Carlo behaving now as he had behaved then.
'Do you like sailing?' Linking his arms round her, Carlo drew her back into disturbing connection with every vibrant line of his long, muscular length.
'I haven't done much,’ Feeling manipulated, Jessica stiffened, fighting the flood of heat threatening to consume her. 'Don't change the subject.'
"There is nothing more to say,' he breathed, pressing
her closer still, the palm of one lean hand splaying across
her taut stomach as he bent over her. 'There is also little
that I would not do to assuage my father's fear '
Tear?' She frowned.
Perceptibly, he tensed. 'His fear that I might not
marry '