The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит

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      But he thought she did. She must at least have a good guess. No need to press her now, though. Instead he held out the strawberry once more. ‘Try it.’

      She hesitated, her lips still pursed, everything in her resisting. Then he saw the moment when she made the decision to be different, and with a little shrug and a smile she reached for it. He drew back, his eyes glinting challenge. ‘Open your mouth.’

      Her eyes widened and for a second he thought he’d pushed too far. Too hard. But she did as he said, parting her lips so he could hold the strawberry out to her. He felt his groin harden and ache as she touched the tip of her pink tongue to the chocolate and licked.

      ‘Mmm.’ She sounded so sweetly innocent and yet as seductive as a siren as she gazed at him with eyes as wide and clear as lakes. He could drown in them. He was drowning, lost in this moment as she licked the chocolate again. ‘I don’t think I knew what I’ve been missing,’ she said huskily, and he knew she wasn’t just talking about a single, simple strawberry.

      ‘Liana...’ His voice was a groan as she bit into the strawberry, juice trickling down her chin, chocolate smearing her lush lips.

      She ate it in two bites, and then Sandro could hold back no longer. He reached for her, dragging his hands through her hair as he brought her face to his and kissed her strawberry-sweet lips.

      She tasted better, sweeter than any strawberry. And he wanted her more than he’d wanted anything or anyone before in his life. He kissed her deeply, as if he was drawing the essence of her right out of her mouth and into himself. Wanting and needing to feel her closer than a kiss, with his hands spanning her waist he drew her onto his lap, fitted her legs around him so she pressed snugly against his arousal and he flexed his hips against hers, craving that exquisite friction.

      ‘Now, that’s better,’ he murmured and she let out a choked laugh.

      ‘Sandro—’ She broke off, her head buried in his neck, and Sandro stilled.

      He was moving too fast. He’d forgotten, in the sweet spell of that kiss, that she was a virgin. Untouched. Inexperienced.

      Sandro closed his eyes and willed the tide of his desire back. Even so it misted his mind with a red haze. Gently he eased her off his lap.

      ‘Sorry. Lost my head a bit there.’

      ‘It’s okay,’ she murmured, but her face was still buried in his neck.

      Sandro leaned back against the sofa cushions and tried, without success, to will away the ache in his groin.

      ‘Sex doesn’t scare me, you know,’ she said suddenly, and he suppressed a smile.

      ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’

      ‘It’s just...’ She licked her lips, sending a shaft of lust burrowing deep into him. Painful. ‘Everything else does. About...being with someone.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Intimacy. Like you said. Sharing things. Being—vulnerable.’

      He smiled, tried to draw her into that smile, into something shared. ‘None of it is a walk in the park, is it?’

      ‘You mean it scares you too?’

      ‘Sometimes.’ He was the one to glance away now. ‘I’m not exactly an expert in all this myself, you know, Liana.’

      ‘But you’ve had loads of relationships, according to the media anyway.’

      ‘Don’t believe everything you read.’

      Her eyebrows rose, two pale arcs. ‘It’s not true?’

      He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable to impart so much, yet knowing he could only be honest with this woman. His wife. ‘I’ve had quite a few...sexual relationships, I admit. They didn’t mean anything to me.’

      ‘That’s more than I’ve had,’ she said with a soft laugh that wobbled at the end, a telling note.

      He felt a sudden stab of surprising regret for all the pointless encounters he’d had, all attempts to stave off the loneliness and need he’d felt deep inside. The need that was, amazingly, starting to be met by this woman.

      ‘Have you ever...loved anyone?’ Liana asked softly. ‘I mean, a woman? A romantic... Well, you know.’

      ‘Yes.’ Sandro paused, pictured Teresa. What had drawn him to her originally? She’d been so different from everything about his former life, he supposed. A California girl, with sun-kissed hair and bright blue eyes, always ready to laugh, always up for a good time. It had taken him nearly a year to realise Teresa only wanted a good time. With his money. His status. She wasn’t interested in the man he really was, didn’t want to do the whole ‘for better or for worse’ thing. At least, not for worse.

      ‘Sandro?’ Liana’s soft voice interrupted the bleakness of his thoughts. ‘You must have loved her very much.’

      ‘Why do you say that?’

      ‘Because your face is like a thundercloud.’

      He shook his head. ‘I thought I loved her.’

      ‘Is there really a difference?’

      He sighed. ‘Maybe not. Sometimes disillusionment is worse than heartbreak.’

      ‘How were you disillusioned?’

      He shrugged, half amazed he was telling her all of this. ‘I thought she loved me for me. But I discovered she was really only interested in my money and status, and not so much me, or being faithful to me.’ He’d caught her in bed with the landscaping guy, of all people. She hadn’t even been sorry.

      Liana pressed her lips together. ‘So that’s why you’re so suspicious.’

      ‘Suspicious?’

      ‘Of me.’

      He hesitated then, because as much as he’d been enjoying their conversation and this new, startling intimacy, her words reminded him that she had agreed to marry him for exactly those reasons. Money. Power. A title.

      Nothing had really changed, except maybe in his own sentimental mind.

      He pushed the thought away; he wanted, for once, to enjoy the simple pleasure of being with a woman. With his wife. ‘Have another strawberry,’ he said, and held another one out to her parted lips.

      * * *

      Liana licked the last of the chocolate from her lips, every sense on impossible overload. She’d never felt so much—the sweetness of the strawberry, the seductive promise of his kiss, the alarming honesty of their conversation that left her feeling bare and yet bizarrely, beautifully light, as if she’d slipped the first tiny bit of a burden she’d been carrying so long she’d forgotten it was weighing her down. Crippling her.

      This was why people fell in love, she supposed. This was what the magazines and romance novels hinted at—and yet she didn’t even love Sandro. How could she, when she СКАЧАТЬ