The Platinum Collection: Claiming His Innocent. Lynne Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ and that’s all I’ve been able to think about all day and—’

      ‘I too, but not, I think, for the same reasons, piccola mia,’ Cesario incised, his dark golden eyes hot and hungry on her tense oval face, his long, lean, powerful body taut as he swooped on the vase still leaking water and set it upright on the rug.

      He closed a lean hand round her wrist to tug her closer. He felt the resistance in her slight frame and expelled his breath in a slow measured hiss. ‘I don’t want you when you’re intoxicated and unwilling…’

      So tense she could barely catch her breath, Jess gazed back at him and despised herself for playing that card when the flickering obstinate heat of arousal was shimmying through her pelvis like a mocking touch. In a movement that took him as much by surprise as it took her she shifted up against him, stretched up on tiptoe and pressed her soft mouth to his.

      A masculine hand curved to her hip to crush her against him. Her heart thumping feverishly fast, she gasped as he drove his tongue between her lips in a delving, erotic assault that set up a jangling response throughout her entire susceptible body. Suddenly she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life and with a hot, sweet longing that came dangerously close to an edge of pain.

      ‘There will be other nights,’ Cesario quipped, lifting his handsome dark head, his dark eyes sardonic, and setting her back from him before walking to the door.

      Trembling, senses awakened and cruelly crushed again, Jess studied the space where he had been and thought what a disastrous note she had chosen to begin their relationship on. I don’t want you when you’re intoxicated and unwilling… She cringed, despising herself for not being tougher. She had signed up for the marriage and cheating didn’t come naturally to her. It didn’t matter if Cesario loved Alice. It didn’t even matter if he was convinced that Jess was a sulky, uptight bride and a flirt at her own wedding. They had had an agreement and she had just welched on the deal, and nobody could have been harder on Jess than she was on herself while she finally struggled free of her gown, washed off all her fancy make-up and climbed into the big bed alone. There she lay with her eyes wide open because whenever she tried to close them the room revolved behind her lowered eyelids in the most nauseating way…

CHAPTER SIX

      ALMOST unrecognisable in a stylish white linen skirt and top teamed with a bright turquoise jacket, sunglasses anchored firmly on her nose, Jess boarded Cesario’s luxurious private jet in teeming rain the following afternoon. He had left the hall that morning to fit in a business meeting in the City before his departure.

      Jess was still suffering from a hellish hangover and she had barely slept during the previous night. At some point during those slow-passing hours she had grudgingly acknowledged the truth of Cesario’s criticism of her mood the day before. She had got the dream dress, the gorgeous groom and the fabulous ceremony, but she had not got the love, the caring or the happy-ever-after that brides looked forward to receiving. As a result, disillusionment and a horrid sense of being trapped had dogged her throughout her wedding day. It was as though the true cost of marrying Cesario di Silvestri had only really hit home after she and he had made their vows. But she had made an agreement with him and she would stick to it from here on in, she assured herself fiercely.

      Cesario stepped onto the jet, his keen gaze shooting straight to the petite brunette seated in a comfortable tan leather upholstered seat. ‘Jessica…’

      Tensing, Jess looked up warily, worried about the reception she might receive after events the night before. ‘Cesario…’

      ‘I think we can do without the sunglasses,’ he said wryly, with a nod in the direction of the rain streaming down the nearest porthole.

      Jess breathed in deep and removed the tinted spectacles, knowing her eyelids were pink and puffy in spite of the make-up she had applied.

      ‘And please let your hair down. I love your hair, mia bella,’ Cesario confided as though that were the most normal thing in the world for him to say to her.

      ‘It’ll be a mess,’ Jess warned him, pink warming her cheekbones. Wanting to match his generosity in not holding onto any spite, she reached up and dragged the band out of her hair so that her curls tumbled free to her shoulders. ‘I couldn’t be bothered to do anything at all with it today, which is why I put it up.’

      At that frank admission a slanting grin curved his wide sensual mouth. He bent down and fluffed her mass of curls round her anxious face with gentle fingers. ‘It doesn’t need anything. It looks great just as it is,’ he contended. ‘I like the natural look.’

      But Jess didn’t think Cesario would recognise ‘natural’ unless it hit him in the face; he had probably never been exposed to the real thing. She suspected that more than one woman had gone to bed with Cesario fully made up and just as many had sneaked out of bed early the next day to ‘brush up’ before he got a first look at them. She had noticed the very high levels of grooming amongst the female wedding guests and had appreciated that just to pass muster in such company she would have to make much more effort than she was accustomed to with her appearance.

      ‘About last night,’ she began awkwardly.

      ‘Forget about it. Today we start again—fresh page, open book,’ Cesario pronounced smoothly, sinking down in the seat opposite her and buckling up for the take-off. She found herself covertly watching his every fluid movement. The smooth bronzed planes of his high cheekbones framed his straight, strong nose and the sensual perfection of his full-modelled mouth. By the time his lashes lifted to reveal his dark golden eyes as he tilted back his dark head to address the stewardess, Jess was staring helplessly: he was a heartstoppingly handsome man.

      ‘Tell me about where we’re going,’ she urged, keen to find out about their destination and talk to him for a change.

      ‘Collina Verde…it means “Green Hill”. It’s the country house where I spent my earliest years with my mother. It’s in the hills above Pisa and very beautiful,’ he murmured softly.

      Jess recalled him telling her that he had grown up without a mother and scolded herself for having made no attempt to learn more about his background. After all, it was on the basis of such little nuggets of information that most relationships were built and life would be easier for both of them if she made the effort to be more interested. ‘What happened to your mother?’

      Cesario compressed his lips, his dark eyes taking on a grim light. ‘She died from an overdose when I was seven years old.’

      Jess was taken aback by that uncompromising admission. ‘That is so sad. It must’ve been very hard for you to handle that loss at such a young age.’

      ‘I blamed my father. He had had a string of affairs and they were living apart by then,’ Cesario mused wryly. ‘But he had a great line in self-justification: he said it was in the blood and that I would be exactly the same.’

      Jess was too craven and too tactful to dare to comment on that issue. ‘What was it like for you when you had to live with your father instead?’ she asked curiously.

      His dark eyes gleamed like polished bronze and he gave her a wry half-smile. ‘Dio mio. He wasn’t cut out to be a family man any more than he was fit to be a husband. He resented being tied down. He was very competitive with me and it got worse as he aged and had to face that his youth was gone. Nothing I achieved was ever quite good enough.’

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