own right.
He traced the pointed bud of a straining nipple and her spine undulated of its own accord, sensation piercing straight to her pelvis. Her breasts had suddenly become achingly sensitive to the palms cupping them and the fingers tugging gently on the prominent tips. That felt amazingly good. A stifled gasp was wrenched from low in her throat and her spine arched, her body rising up to cradle his in an involuntary move of welcome as old as time. He skated his fingers along a slender thigh to discover the hot wet core of her, sliding between the delicate folds to moisturise the tiny bud of thrumming nerve endings above with a skilled fingertip.
Lizzie tore her lips from his to cry out, hungry beyond bearing for that sensual touch and plunging her fingers into his tousled black hair to hold him to her. She was no more capable of thinking about what she was doing than she was of stopping breathing on command. Her heart was thumping, her ragged gasping breaths audible, her entire body was tingling madly with seething heat and need. With his free hand, he ripped at the buttons of the shirt. The shirt fell partially open, exposing the rounded fullness of a breast crowned by a pale pink nipple. He closed his mouth there, teasing the distended bud with the flick of his tongue and the graze of his teeth while his fingers stoked an erotic blaze at her feminine core. She shuddered, talon claws of fierce need biting into her, shock assailing her that anything physical could feel so intense that she could neither fight it nor control it.
‘I love the way you respond to me, mi piace,’ Cesare growled with satisfaction while switching his attention between her pouting breasts and sending fantastic ripples of ravishing sensation right down to her unbearably hot core.
Lizzie couldn’t find her voice, her breath or a single functioning brain cell. Her entire being was welded to his every caress, wanting, needing more. And kissing an erotic path down over her flat, quivering stomach, Cesare gave her much more and she didn’t have the strength of will to deny him.
With ruthless cool he zeroed in on the tender heart of her with every weapon in his erotic mastery, stroking delicate flesh with his tongue and his mouth and his expert fingers. Lizzie careened into shock at the intimacy and then moaned below the onslaught of wicked, delirious excitement. Intense pleasure followed, sweeping her up into a wild, yearning climb towards a peak that she felt she would never reach. But that climb was unstoppable. Suddenly her body wasn’t her own any more and she was flying like a comet into the sun in a climax so powerful it brought shaken tears of reaction to her eyes.
Still ragingly aroused, Cesare sprang out of bed, his fists angrily clenched. What the hell had he been thinking of? No matter how great the temptation, he should never have touched her. They had a business agreement and a planned marriage of convenience ahead of them. They were not lovers, not friends with benefits. He did not want to muddy the waters with the kind of physical intimacy that women often assumed meant more than it did. If he wasn’t careful, he might find himself more married than he had ever wanted to be, he acknowledged grimly.
Paralysed by a crazy sense of peace in the aftermath of orgasm, Lizzie closed her eyes, her body still trembling from the sweet aftermath of agonising pleasure. The mattress gave but she didn’t open her eyes again until a phone rang, shattering her dream state. The phone fell silent in answer to a man’s voice speaking Italian. Her lashes lifted then and she stared at Cesare while he paced the floor, mobile phone clamped to his ear. He still wore his boxers and his state of arousal was blindingly obvious. An almost painful tide of colour burned her face.
He tossed the phone down by the bed. ‘Do you want the shower first?’
That prosaic question made Lizzie frantically pull the edges of the shirt she wore closed and she sat up in an agony of discomfiture. ‘I’ll go back to my own room.’
As she scrambled out of bed and reached for Archie, Cesare murmured without any expression at all, ‘We made a mistake and we won’t repeat it.’
Clutching Archie in an awkward hold, Lizzie attempted to pick up her discarded clothing one-handed. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ she prompted shakily.
‘It was just sex...nothing worth fussing over,’ Cesare opined in a tone that was as cold as a winter shower on her overheated skin. ‘Look, I’ll see you downstairs in an hour. I have some papers you have to sign before I leave.’
‘You’re going away again?’ she asked in surprise, fighting the roar of temper rising from a secret place deep down inside her.
‘We have forty-eight hours to go before the wedding and I intend to use it,’ he advanced calmly, deep-set dark eyes hooded, wide, sensual mouth clenched hard.
Just sex...nothing worth fussing over? Lizzie mulled that putdown over while she showered. She wasn’t hurt by his dismissal, of course she wasn’t. A mistake that would not be repeated. Didn’t she feel the same way as he did? What had happened shouldn’t have happened. It was much more sensible if they stayed uninvolved and detached. So, if he had left her feeling a little crushed and foolish, it was her own fault for acting like an idiot and inviting such a denouement. If she couldn’t quite shake off the sense of intimacy he had imbued her with, it was only because she had been more intimate with him than she had ever been with anyone else but that was a secret not for sharing...
LIZZIE FASTENED THE cropped trousers and straightened the lilac cashmere sweater she wore with it. Her feet shod in flat ballerina pumps, her face lightly made up, she bore not the smallest resemblance to the woman she had been a mere week earlier.
Of course she was now in possession of a vast wardrobe and owned a choice of outfits for every conceivable occasion. Most probably many of the garments would never be worn because she could not imagine Cesare taking her sailing or out to dinner or indeed to the kind of dressy venue where she would require a full-length gown. The wardrobe was totally wasteful in its size and probable expense but she had already learned that once Cesare had instructed his underlings that she was to be dressed from head to toe in designer fashion, his orders were carried out without question.
A pity she was a little more rebellious in that line, Lizzie acknowledged wryly. A lifetime of counting the pennies meant that extravagance made her feel guilty. Breakfast in bed made her feel even guiltier although, to be honest, any excuse to escape the ghastly prospect of having to breakfast alone with Cesare had been extremely welcome.
After all, she had made a huge fool of herself the night before, hadn’t she?
Lizzie inwardly cringed, colour marking her cheeks afresh. It would be a very long time, if ever, before she contrived to forget how she had writhed in ecstasy in Cesare’s bed. But mercifully, they hadn’t actually got as far as having full sex, she reminded herself bracingly, and she assumed that that reality would make it a little easier for her to reinstate normal boundaries between them. She was no natural wanton, never had been, had simply let alcohol, curiosity and temptation steer her briefly in the wrong direction. She wasn’t like her mother either because she was not prone to sudden blinding infatuations. For years, there had been no other man for her but Andrew, a reality that had made the slow death of their relationship all the more painful to endure because it had started out with such high hopes.
It offended her sense of decency, however, that the intimacy she had shrunk from exploring with Andrew, whom she had loved, could be so very tempting when offered by a male like Cesare Sabatino, who had no respect for her at all. Cesare didn’t give two hoots what happened to her or how she felt about any issue. Cesare merely wanted to use her to regain the island of Lionos and he thought that paying her richly for the privilege should take care of any doubts she might have.
‘Mr
