The Italians: Luca, Marco and Alessandro. Natalie Anderson

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СКАЧАТЬ she didn’t—couldn’t. Her insides were like lava. Her deeply hidden core that she’d always thought firm and cool, rational and sensible, was now molten, blistering hot and bending her towards him. Driving her. Rocking her pelvis into his hand, she met his mouth with hers open and needy, her hands moving, fighting to touch him—going straight for the kill.

      He groaned as his fingers stroked deep. ‘I’ve been wanting this again since the moment I left you in Verona.’

      ‘So what took you so long?’

      ‘I’m stubborn.’

      ‘Why do you want to fight it?’ Panting, she unzipped his trousers with a rough jerk. Got her hands on him the way he had his on her—intimate and demanding.

      Everything was unleashed. The kiss was hard and passionate and their hands provoked even more until they were both shaking. Teeth scraped and tongues thrust and yet for her they were nowhere near close enough or fast enough or anything enough. She growled as he tore his lips from hers.

      ‘This isn’t how…’ He looked into her eyes and the fire arced between them—incandescent and unstoppable.

      With a smile she hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him to meet her open, hungry mouth. Moments, minutes, hours lost in another kiss so passionate it almost hurt.

      He whipped his hands from her body and she rolled onto her toes, only just keeping her balance. His hands came back—hard on her arms. ‘No. We should talk first. And before we do that we should eat.’

      ‘I’m not in imminent danger of fading away—let’s talk now.’ Frustration made her snappy.

      He stared hard at her. ‘This can only be a fling, Emily. That’s all I can offer.’

      ‘Why?’ Why put limits on this before it had really begun—why not just see where it went?

      Silence.

      She watched the darkness grow in his eyes. ‘Did someone hurt you, Luca?’

      His hands tightened on her arms. ‘Badly.’

      ‘I won’t hurt you.’ She liked him. She’d like to get to know him more.

      ‘I know.’ A blunt response. ‘Because I won’t let you.’ His grip loosened, fingers skimmed down to her wrists. ‘But I don’t want to hurt you either.’

      ‘Who says you will?’ She placed the palms of her hands on his chest. His arrogant assumption that he might annoyed her. Defensive pride reared its head. ‘Maybe all I want from you is just this—no-holds-barred sex and nothing else.’

      He glared back, the frown drowning in a glower of epic proportions. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Seeing we’re being honest, let me put it plain. I don’t do relationships. I don’t do commitment. I’ve been married once before and I will never do it again.’

      She tightened her muscles, absorbing the shock, but his brutal honesty continued.

      ‘No commitment, Emily. No strings. Do you still want this, knowing that?’

      She stared hard into the darkness of his eyes, let hers roam over his features, his olive skin, the angled jaw that right now was shadowed with stubble, the full mouth.

      Just a few nights of mind-bending passion?

      It was already too late.

      ‘Didn’t I just say that? No-holds-barred sex and nothing else? Let’s say I think of you as my holiday fling.’

      ‘You’re sure?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Then that’s it.’ He vanquished all possibility of any further thought with a few words and a lot of action. His hands intimately invaded her body, his mouth pressed bruisingly hard on hers blocking everything but sensation.

      Passion, born of pent-up need and sudden anger, had her go straight for the zenith too—hands back hard on the thing she wanted right inside her. Pulling him closer, firmer, faster.

      A breathless second apart as he pulled a condom from his pocket, tearing the foil open and forcing the rubber on. And almost fully clothed, their dinner waiting, they surged together. Frantic, fast—both desperately fighting for that fix of pleasure.

      It was mere seconds in coming—their bodies clenched together like vices, racked with violent shudders.

      After the echo of her screams passed, it was their breathing—short, sharp, harsh—that filled her ears.

      She opened her eyes, looked straight into his—where a flicker of rue nestled. ‘Wow,’ he muttered. ‘I’m thinking that was the appetiser.’

      She took a deep breath, stepped back, rested her weight on her hands on the bench behind her and tried to act completely cool—as if this sort of meltdown were nothing out of the ordinary. ‘I’m looking forward to the main course.’

      His brows lifted. ‘While I’m looking forward to dessert.’

      She flushed—she hadn’t meant… He caught her eye and winked. Her colour still burning, she turned away and adjusted her clothing. When she’d summoned the courage and calm to turn back, he’d done the same.

      He concentrated on serving—quick and efficient. She just focused on breathing and standing upright. He looked across at her. ‘Are you OK?’

      She nodded. ‘I think so.’

      He shook his head. ‘Let’s eat, OK?’

      The dinner was divine, the meat melt-in-the-mouth tender, the vegetables tangy with some sort of marinade, but her mind was spinning too fast for her to truly enjoy it.

      He held his fork with his left hand, using his right to cover hers—curling his fingers around hers. It wasn’t a possessive grip, nor demanding in a sexual way. It was simple contact. Almost comfort. And she appreciated it, needing the connection. While there was to be nothing long-lasting between them, she needed to know there was some sort of caring.

      ‘Have you got a mobile?’

      ‘I picked up a prepay last week.’ To field calls from employment agencies she’d yet to sign up with. To stay in contact with her sister who was too busy to bother.

      ‘I’ll give you my number.’ He stood, pushed the plates away and pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m not settling for a morsel this time. I’m having the whole banquet.’

      Drugging kisses led to all-consuming passion, he carried her up the stairs to a room that was light and fresh and utterly impersonal.

      She glanced, vision blurry. ‘This isn’t your room?’

      ‘My room’s a mess. I couldn’t let you see it with all my stuff all over the floor.’ And then he kissed her more, all over, confusing her thoughts, until she no longer cared about anything but having him inside her.

      But after, as she lay loose-limbed and replete, she started to wonder СКАЧАТЬ