streaming like sunlight over her creamy shoulders, over her breasts, the pale apricot nipples uptilted, awaiting him.
He imagined his lips closed on those silken pearls, drawing them deep into his mouth.
His hand between her thighs.
Her hand on his erection.
Draco groaned.
He would back her against the glass, lift her in his arms, take her mouth as he brought her down, down, down on his hard, eager length ….
Another groan, more guttural than the first, burst from his throat. His body shuddered, did what it had not done since he’d had his first woman at the age of seventeen.
Her fault, he thought in sudden fury. The blonde. She had made a fool of him yet another time.
He wished he could see her again, and make her pay.
Draco shut his eyes. Raised his face to the spray. Let the water wash everything from his body and his mind. He had to be alert for the meeting that loomed ahead.
The land in Sicily was his. He’d been in Palermo on business, gone for a drive to relax and passed through the town of Taormina, where something had drawn him to a narrow road, a hairpin curve, a heart-quickening view of the sea …
And a stretch of land that seemed unaccountably familiar.
He had taken the necessary steps to ensure his possession of it, brought in an architect … And suddenly received a letter from a man he’d never heard of, Cesare Orsini, who had made claims that were not only nonsense, they were lies.
The land was his. And it would remain his, despite the best efforts of a thug to claim it.
Draco had learned a very long time ago never to give in to bullies.
It was a lesson that had changed his life, one he would never, ever forget.
Anna’s hotel was old.
Under some circumstances, that would have been fine. After all, Rome was old. And magnificent.
The same could not be said about her hotel.
She’d made the reservation herself, online at something called BidCheap.com. Bidding cheap was where it was at; if only she’d had the common sense to demand her father hand over a credit card …
Never mind.
She’d traveled on the cheap before, after university and during spring breaks in law school. How bad could a place be?
Bad, she thought as she followed a shriveled bellman into a room the size of a postage stamp.
Water stains on the ceiling, heaven only knew what kinds of stains on the carpet, a sagging club chair in front of a window with a rousing view of …
An airshaft.
All the way to Rome so she could overlook an airshaft.
Well, so what?
She wouldn’t be here long enough for it to matter. Besides, right now she felt as if she were walking in her sleep. She’d done that a couple of times, when she was little. Once she’d awakened in the kitchen, standing in front of the open fridge.
The next time, she’d been halfway out the conservatory door into the garden when she’d walked into one of her brothers. Falco, or maybe Rafe. Whichever, he’d startled her into wakefulness; she’d shocked him into a muffled oath.
“What are you—” they’d both said, and then they’d shushed each other and laughed, and agreed to keep quiet about the whole thing, because he’d obviously been sneaking back into the sleeping house and she’d just as obviously been sneaking out of it.
Anyway, she still remembered the feeling when her eyes had blinked open. She’d been awake, but not really. Her feet had seemed to be inches off the floor, her eyes had felt gritty, her body had felt … the only word that described it was floaty.
That was exactly how she felt now as she waited patiently for the bellman to finish showing her how to adjust the thermostat, how to open and close the drapes, how to use the minibar.
She yawned. Maybe he’d take the hint.
No way.
Now he was at the desk, opening drawers, snapping them shut, moving to the TV, turning it on and off, and, oh my God, now he was showing her how to set the clock radio …
Anna gave herself a mental slap on the forehead. Duh. He was waiting for a tip.
She opened her purse, dug inside, took out a couple of euros and, less than graciously, shoved them at him.
“Thank you,” she said. “Grazie. You’ve been very helpful.”
Her form would probably have earned demerits from Sister Margaret, who’d taught tenth grade deportment, but it satisfied the bellman, who smiled broadly, wished her a good day and exited, stage left.
“Thank God,” Anna said, and fell facedown on the bed.
Everything ached.
Her arms from keeping her elbows tucked to her sides the last couple of hours of the flight. Her shoulders from hunching them. Her butt from pretty much doing the same kind of thing to keep her thighs and hips from coming into contact with Hannibal and the Hummer.
Her head hurt, too. A baby a couple of rows back had decided to scream in protest at the unfairness of life. Anna couldn’t blame the kid; she’d have screamed, too, if it would have done any good.
But it wouldn’t.
She had done something awful, and being packed into the middle seat would never be sufficient to expiate her total, complete, hideous feelings of embarrassment.
Anna groaned.
Embarrassment didn’t even come close. Humiliation was an improvement, but horror was better. Much better. She was totally, completely, mind-numbingly horrified at what she’d done. What she’d almost done.
Okay, what she had done and what she had been on the way to doing …
His fault. The stranger’s. All of it, his fault.
First, driving her temper into the stratosphere, then confusing her, then charming her.
An overstatement.
He had not charmed her. He could never be the charming type. He’d simply lulled her into thinking he was human. And maybe just a little bit interesting.
Pleasant conversation. A couple of smiles. His looks had been part of it, too. She had to admit, he was nice-looking.
A hunk, was more like it.
And then to wake up and find him all over her …
Anna sprang to her feet. Unzipped her carry-on.
“The
