A Reputation to Uphold, page 12
‘Come now, Eva. Can you not? The man obviously wanted you for himself. Let us not forget you were then pictured with him continuously during the year that followed.’
With one hand, she reached up and gripped both sides of the robe, closing the small gap—knuckles bleaching—hiding the thin sliver of almond skin.
‘We hung around in the same crowd. Parties. Concerts. Perfectly oblivious. He persisted...hounded. Was relentless in trying to get me into bed.’ Chin dipping, she looked to the floor, where she flexed her foot, rubbed her toes on the rug. ‘Pity I wasn’t worth the effort.’
Flinching on another swift kick to the guts, he tried to speak through the fiery knots in his throat. ‘Things developed between you?’
Backing up another pace, widening the gap, she leaned against the wide panoramic window. The soothing rouge hues of sunset cast her in an ethereal light, picking up the golden strands of her beautiful long caramel hair, outlining her lush body to stunning effect.
‘About a year after I last saw you...’ Which would have been around the time he’d got married, he was sure. And why could she not look him in the eye? ‘I decided it was time and I tried.’
‘Tried being the operative word, tesoro. Because, right then—’ he said, pointing to the rumpled sheets with an unsteady hand, ‘you were still just as innocent as when I first laid eyes on you.’ And hadn’t it always been there? A whisper of purity that called to him—a man who had seen the darkest, most tainted, debauched side of life.
‘I struggled. He said I was...’ Closing her eyes, her brow creased and she banged her head gently off the glass.
Crack went his knuckles as his fists screamed bloody murder. ‘Eeeva?’
‘Sexless. He found it quite amusing that men drooled over me. Over my chest.’ Cheeks pinking with a heart-wrenching embarrassment, her attempt at a small smile bordered on apologetic. ‘Problem is, I don’t like them being touched. I didn’t realise how strongly I felt until that night. So, as you can imagine, it was a disaster. But, looking back, I agreed to sleep with him for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t want him. I wanted...’
‘Wanted what, cara mia?’
‘It doesn’t matter any more.’
Frustration snaked through his chest. The need to push her for more coiling in his throat. But she was closing in on herself, withdrawing. Pain pleating her brow. Making him wonder if this was the first time she’d relived it.
‘Speak to me, please, tesoro.’
Rubbing her temple, she said, ‘It was my fault, Dante. Everything he said was right. That I was a tease. I didn’t mean to be. I was just messed up. He said I was frigid and his face, my God, he was so angry and nasty and—’
Black and thick, fury poured through him. ‘Did he touch you? Hurt you? Make you cry?’ Teeth bared, he let out a low growl, struggling to leash his temper as he sorted through words, let loose a few Italian expletives. ‘That bastard. I’ll kill him.’ Not even close. Doubting there was a vile enough word in the Dante vocabulary that could come close to satisfying the noxious mixture of frustration and rage that churned through his veins.
Eva’s eyes flared wide and she pushed off the window with her bottom, laid her hand on his upper arm. ‘No, no, hey, you can’t do that! He just said nasty things. That’s all. In all fairness, Dante, it was true. He couldn’t even—’ She looked down at his crotch. Seemed to stay there a while. ‘You know.’
‘He couldn’t get it up, right?’
Tipping his head to one side, he snagged her attention from the thick ridge in his trousers. ‘Let me make one thing abundantly clear, Eva. That excuse of a man was probably so high on drink and drugs that he could not stand up, never mind get it up.’
Insanely, he was grateful. She would’ve felt cheap giving herself to such a man. And, though it was a contemptible thing to admit, he wanted her only for him. To not have been touched, defiled by others. He knew what that made him—a hypocrite of the highest order. But she was his, dammit!
Whoa... His? No, she wasn’t his. What the hell was wrong with him?
‘So why did you stop?’ she asked faintly. ‘That night. In the pool-house. Didn’t I disappoint you too?’
Dante raked his palm over the hard ridges of his aching stomach. ‘You think you disappointed me?’
Cristo, what would that have done to her confidence? Then, after him, Van Horn. ‘No, cara. No. You were grieving, it was not right.’
Disappoint him? Maledizione, she couldn’t be further from the truth.
He wanted her to be confident in her body. Not for him. Only for her. All that passion seemed to be restrained by vulnerability and a lack of self-confidence he had engendered. Well, he was damn well fixing it. Right now. Her purity was gone and the devil would dance in heaven before he allowed her only memory of this night to be one of pain.
Dante slowly backed her up against the glass wall, unravelling the sash on her gown, unwrapping her provocative body to his eyes, unveiling a plain white bra and matching panties—which drove him crazier than any G-string or crotchless slip he’d ever seen.
‘Did it look like I was disappointed, cara? Does this,’ he said, curving his hands around her small waist, delving lower to cup her lush, round cheeks and hauling her against his pelvis, ‘does this feel like you don’t turn me on?’
A little shiver. A little shake of her head.
‘You are the sexiest woman alive. I am no virgin, Eva, and I can tell you right now I have never ever been so desperate to get inside someone as I am you, capisci?’
She nodded. Chest rising and falling. Soft skin spilling from her bra.
‘I want this lethal, gorgeous body naked,’ he said, voice thick and husky with want. ‘It is a constant craving. Like a ticking time bomb, one touch to detonate, one thrust to explode. And I am going to watch you explode time and time again until you cannot think of what that useless bastard said to you. Only what I am doing to you. With my fingers, my mouth, my wicked tongue and my painfully hard...’ Brushing up the side of her face, knowing it drove her wild, he whispered the word in her ear—the dirty variation he knew would flip her trigger—and he felt her stomach scrunch, her spine hit the glass.
Resting his brow against hers, he luxuriated in the heat seeping from her body, oozing into his. ‘Do you pleasure yourself, Eva?’
He heard her audible gulp. Knew that was the only answer she was capable of.
One hand still holding her mind-blowing curvaceous derrière, Dante caught hold of her left hand, raised it to his mouth and nipped and sucked her ring finger from tip to base, watching her cheeks flush and her thick hazel lashes grow heavy.
As he twisted her hand this way and that, her yellow diamond caught fire and that possessiveness was back with a vengeance, pervading his chest until his ribs cracked at the thought of her taking it off to walk away, to leave him. It’s only because you’re her first; it will wane. It must. ‘And do you wear my ring, Eva? Do you think of me while you touch?’
Body visibly seething with desire, she could barely breathe. ‘Yes.’
He felt her knees give way and he thrust his thigh up between her legs to stop her fall. Within seconds, she was rocking against him. And, Cristo, he could feel her hot, wet heat at his thigh, scorching his skin.
The notion he may lose it flashed through his mind, yet he discarded it just as quickly. This time he’d take it slow. Replace every imperfect memory of earlier with a night she would never forget. The first time she deserved.
Eva gripped his shoulders, fingered his hair. ‘I need...’
‘What?’ he said, licking across her bottom lip, kissing the corner of her full mouth. ‘Tell me exactly what you need, what you want. I will give you everything you have ever desired of me.’
Chin dipping, Eva glanced at her bra. He caught her meaning instantly.
Why dislike being touched there? An inkling that it pertained to her mother slithered into his mind and his stomach fisted. But now was not the time. He would fix it. Later.
‘So we take it one step at a time,’ he said. ‘First time we leave it on and I will touch you everywhere but your breasts. Sì?’
‘You can do that?’ she asked, her eyes flicking up to his, striking green pools connecting to his like powerful magnets.
‘Sì. Of course.’ It would take every scrap of self-control but he would do it. For her. And, just so she could relax, he admitted, ‘You will soon discover I am bottom-half kind of guy, cara.’
‘Oh. Yes. I think I’ve noticed.’
With a half smile designed to make her bones liquefy, he said, ‘Trust me.’ And swept feather-light kisses down her soft stomach, revelling in her sweet moans and the gooseflesh that arose on her almond skin. Then he delved into her panties, deeper into her wet folds, stroking, probing and swirling.
The urge to replace his fingers with his mouth, bury his tongue to taste her sweetness, coursed through him, making his mouth beg, his pulse quicken. So much so, he gripped her waist to keep her upright, ready to fall to his knees. And devour.
But, before he did, she fisted his hair, undulated atop his hand and pulled him down for a kiss. His kiss. Only his. And all he could think was: mine. Mine. Mine.
For one night only.
Eva belonged to him.
CHAPTER NINE
OVER AND OVER, Dante pushed her to the wicked edge of oblivion and tossed her into the deep, dark realms of ecstasy. Until she was boneless. A boneless quivering mass of thrumming desire. Until the sky was velvet black and the moon waxed in fullness.
Heart pounding, blood rushed through her veins as they finally, finally tumbled upon the bed, Eva cushioned atop piles of luxurious silk pillows, while Dante braced his weight on his forearms either side of her head, caging her with his long, hard, muscular body—a body vibrating with arousal, stretched to its very limits by his infinite patience.
Silver ribbons of light spun through the windows and her heart stumbled at the sight of her dark phantom hovering above her—colour slashing his cheekbones, eyes black with desire. And she couldn’t resist because the man was a primal male fantasy come to life, so she ran her fingertips over his washboard abs, down the sweat-slicked super-sexy V of muscle on his pelvis and curled her fingers around his thick satiny length...
Dante sucked air between his teeth, jerked from her touch. ‘No, cara.’ And gently pulled her wrist away. ‘Give me a minute. Cristo, I cannot think when you touch me.’
‘Don’t think. I want you now,’ she said, smoothing her fingers round the tight curve of his rear, which she cupped and squeezed to lure him inside her. So very deep. Until she felt whole. Wanted. Desired. By him. Only him.
‘Eva,’ he growled, slashing his mouth over hers, one hand diving into her hair, the other roaming over her waist and hip with a covetous, mind-blowing touch.
A touch he withheld from her breasts. Breasts that ached with an inexplicable heavy need. So sensitive, she fought with the sudden desire to be free of the white fabric encasing, clutching. But if she tried, took it off, he would see. He would know. And he could never know. So she leashed the need—something she sensed in him too. Leaving her vaguely aware that they both held something back.
It was the rapacious predator in him. Dark. Perilous. That savage intensity that made her feel truly alive. Harnessed by the brutal power that was all Dante Vitale. So virile. So heart-stoppingly male.
Yet as soon as the void bubbled in her brain, it popped on a red-hot pinprick of rapture as he traced over her knee before slowly, seductively gliding up the inside of her thigh, stopping short of her wet curls. Wet from his mouth, where his tongue had lapped and kissed, tearing orgasm after orgasm from her shuddering body.
And, right now, she could taste that very essence, her blood already addicted, thirsting for more, and so she held him to her, tangling her tongue with his, drinking them in. Knowing. Her dreams hadn’t come anywhere near close to the divine reality of him.
‘Eva...Eva...’ he murmured—making her heart throb—as he eased one hand under her bottom to lift, to tilt, so he could snuggle hard and tight in the apex of her thighs. And, oh boy, the sensation of his thick length pressing shot her straight back to that wicked edge and she undulated, grinding her pelvis into him.
‘Slow, cara. Only pleasure,’ he said, voice hoarse as his breathing escalated. ‘You are so small inside.’ His bronzed skin damp, big body trembling as if he feared hurting her.
‘Take me... Please.’ Just give me this. Memories to hold, to cherish, to remember.
As if she were made of the finest French lace, able to tear under the slightest of pressure, he eased the wide velvet tip of his erection inside her, so very gently. And her heart, oh, God, her heart ached. Ached so much she brushed the damp hair from his brow and stared into his dark eyes—watched them grow heavy, glaze out of focus with her every touch—as he finally took her. Because she didn’t want to miss this moment. The one she’d been waiting for all her life. The connection so startlingly intense she felt tears clot her throat, prick the back of her eyes.
Panic seeped into her chest and in that moment she understood her craving for him to unleash. Because like this he posed more danger to her heart. He was almost making love to her. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend, dream as she used to so long ago, that this was her wedding night, their wedding night, and she’d saved herself for him. Only him. And such dreams did not belong in this bed. They were the dreams of a naive heart. A girlhood crush. Not the dreams of a woman who knew the limitations of her life. Knew the agony from loving another.
‘Cara, tell me if you pain.’ Easy, he entered her and her sheath tightened, pulled, sucking him in.
Her head pressed hard into the pillow and she arched sinuously. ‘You feel amazing, Dante. So good. I want more. I want all of you.’ I always have. Your heart, your soul... No. No! She didn’t. Not any more. This was just sex, passion. Lust.
‘Eva...’ Pure animalistic, a groan, long and deep, came from the depths of his chest, calling to her, spurring self-preservation, refashioning it into recklessness, pulling him down for another kiss. A kiss to blow his mind, make him lose control. All heat and need and want as she writhed to take him deeper, curling her legs around his lean hips, hugging him closer.
‘More.’
‘Cristo,’ he groaned, sinking in the last incredible inch until their bodies locked into place. Like two halves of a puzzle clicking together. And the relief, oh, the relief was unlike anything she’d ever known. It made her fall back into the mattress, nestle her face in his neck and just...breathe...in and out...breathe him in—all raw masculine power and dark desire.
Time stilled in a unique fragile trance as they lay that way, holding, clutching.
Dante murmured against the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder, his every hot breath enticing a shiver. ‘You feel like heaven, cara mia, you taste like heaven. You are mine, Eva. Mine.’ All possessive domination.
Even knowing it made her a fool, she couldn’t help but luxuriate in the vibrant violence behind his words.
‘I’m yours.’ And she was. For this moment. The most amazing of her life.
‘Kiss me,’ she begged. Because the man could rock her world with just a kiss and he growled into her mouth, before his lips stole her breath.
Flexing his hips, he began to move in and out of her—slowly at first, focused solely on her pleasure, kissing her face, sucking softly on her neck, smoothing his hand down her thigh, caressing her bottom.
‘Do you have any idea what you do to me? Do you, Eva?’ His dark accent hummed over her skin, notching the heat to danger levels, and she pulsed and clenched with the force of another climax, her lower abdomen now a spool spinning faster and faster, wrapping in luxurious velvet...
‘Dante...’ She kept breathing his name and each time she did his rhythm grew fiercer as if hearing her chant his name fed his fire. So for the first time in her life she danced beneath a warm deluge of female power.
‘Speak to me,’ she implored. ‘I love it when you speak to me.’ Feet flat to the bed, she pushed up into his hard strokes, moaning when he swivelled his hips to lick her sweet spot with the base of his shaft, sparks flying with the friction.
‘Eva, tesoro, slow, slow,’ he groaned huskily, voice pained, body vibrating as he grappled with the reins of his control.
Dancing closer to the flame, she bit the flesh of his bottom lip, threw his thrusts off tempo and wrung a deep feral groan from his chest.
‘Dammit, Eva.’ Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her to the bed as if he owned her. Eyes glittering with fire as he towered over her. ‘So much passion,’ he said, voice gruff. ‘Never have I felt anything like you.’ His big body flexed above her, muscles bunching as he ground against her. Slowly. Deliberately.
Electricity began to nip her skin, sizzle in the air...
Then, boom, it was hands everywhere they could reach, lips clashing, moans coalescing, control obliterated.
‘Yesss...’
Dante’s voice dropped to a low thrum as he drove inside her in a hot, sensual rhythm, murmuring in his native tongue. A litany of thick Italian to maraud her senses. God, she wished she knew what he was saying because it sounded so wonderful, ignited all the colours in her heart, slamming her body past the point of no return.
‘Dante...’ A lightning crack of energy ripped through her core and she arched like a bow, shoulders digging into the downy pillows. Suspended. Captured on a sensually erotic plateau.
Dante’s awed tone drifted from the other side. ‘Cristo, Eva,’ as he stroked two blunt fingertips down her chin, swirled down the column of her throat, ‘look at you. Maledizione, let go...’ he demanded hoarsely. ‘Let go, cara.’ Lifting his torso just a touch, he rubbed her clit with the pad of his thumb rhythmically. ‘Come for me, Eva. Come for me. Now.’ And whoosh, the spool unravelled in hot, delicious waves of bliss, her entire body seizing in rapture while her world broke apart.
