defiance was responsible for the angry tilt of her chin as she berated, ‘I seem to remember you preferred your women warm and willing.’
‘What makes you think you won’t be, cara?’ Stefano drawled, his expression veiled as pain clouded her beautiful eyes, rendering her features hauntingly vulnerable for a few heart-stopping seconds before the mask slipped into place.
She was treading dangerous waters, yet she was too incensed to desist. ‘Did it never occur to you that my taste in men may have changed?’
‘Have there been that many?’ His voice sounded like finely tempered steel grazing satin, and she had the incredible desire to shock.
‘Oh—several.’
Something leapt in the depth of his eyes, and she wanted to cry out a denial, yet the words remained locked in her throat.
What on earth was the matter with her in taunting him? Playing any kind of game with a man of Stefano’s calibre was akin to prodding a sleeping jungle animal.
‘I had a life during the past seven years, Stefano,’ she flung, more angry than she’d care to admit. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘Do you really want to pursue this topic?’
‘Why?’
‘Because it will have only one ending,’ he warned with incredible silkiness, although his eyes were hard and obdurate, and there could be no doubt as to his meaning.
‘Go to hell,’ she whispered, hating him more at that precise moment than she’d thought it possible to hate anyone.
The need to get away from him was paramount, and, uncaring of his reaction, she turned and walked out of the room, out of the house, moving with a quick measured pace along the driveway to the electronically locked steel gates.
For the first time she damned Stefano’s security measures as logic and sanity temporarily vanished in the face of a fierce, unbating anger.
The house, the grounds, were like an impenetrable fortress, necessary in today’s age among the exceedingly wealthy in a bid to protect themselves, their family and their possessions.
She could return indoors, collect her keys and the necessary remote module to release the main gates, but even in anger sufficient common sense exerted itself to warn silently against walking the suburban streets alone after dark. And if she took her car, where would she go? It was too late for visiting, and Sarah, if she wasn’t working, would probably be out with James.
Carly turned back towards the house and slowly retraced her steps. The air was warm, with the faintest breeze teasing a few stray tendrils of her hair, and she lifted her face slightly, looking deep into the indigo sky with its nebulous moon and sprinkling of stars.
Drawing in a deep breath, she released it slowly. A strange restlessness besieged her, and she felt the need for some form of exercise to help expel her pent-up emotions.
There was a pool in the rear of the grounds, and she instinctively took the path that skirted the southern side of the house.
Reflected light from several electric lamps strategically placed in the adjacent rockery garden lent the pool a shimmering translucence, and, without giving too much thought to her actions, Carly stripped off her outer clothes and executed a neat dive into the pool’s clear depths. Within seconds she was cleaving clean strokes through the cool water, silently counting as she completed each length. After twenty-five she rested for a few minutes, clearing the excess water from her face, her hair.
‘Had enough?’
Carly lifted her head and looked at the tall figure standing close to the pool’s edge. In the subdued light he loomed large, his height and breadth magnified by reflected shadows.
‘Is there some reason why I shouldn’t take advantage of the pool?’
‘None whatsoever,’ Stefano declared mockingly. ‘Shall I help you out?’ At his drawled query she raised a hand, then when he grasped it she tugged hard, experiencing a thrill of exultation as he lost his balance and was unable to prevent a headlong fall into the water.
Fear of retaliation lent wings to her limbs as she levered herself up on to the pool’s edge, then, scooping up her clothes, she sped quickly into the house.
A faint bubble of laughter emerged from her throat as she entered the bedroom. She’d have given almost anything to glimpse the expression on his face!
Moving straight through to the adjoining bathroom, she turned on the shower, discarded her briefs and bra, then stepped beneath the warm, pulsing water.
Selecting shampoo, she massaged it through the length of her hair, then rinsed it off before reaching for the soap—and encountered a strong male hand.
‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
She went still with shock as fear unfurled in the region of her stomach. Slowly she pushed back the wet length of her hair, and a silent gasp parted her lips at the sight of him standing within touching distance, every last vestige of clothing removed from his powerful frame.
‘Ready to cry wolf, Carly?’
No sooner had the soft taunt left his lips than she felt the soap sweep in a tantalisingly slow arc from the tip of her shoulder to the curve at her waist. She had to get out now. She tried, except that one hand closed over her arm, holding her still, while the other curved round her shoulder, and she was powerless to resist as he turned her round to face him.
‘I’m sorry.’ It was a half-hearted apology, and his answering smile was wholly cynical as his fingers trailed an evocative path over the surface of her skin, tracing the delicate line of her collarbone, then brushing lower to the dark aureole surrounding the tight bud of her left breast.
‘Don’t.’ The single plea went unheeded, and her stomach quivered as his hand slid to caress her hip, the narrow indented waist, before traversing to cup the soft roundness of her bottom.
Without her being aware of it, he’d managed to manoeuvre her so that the jet of water streamed against his back, and she stood still, her eyes wide and luminous beneath his hooded gaze.
‘Stefano—’ she protested as he pulled her close against him. His arousal was a potent virile force, and she arched back, straining against the circle of his arms in an effort to put some distance between them.
‘You can’t do this,’ she whispered in a broken voice.
Yet he could, very easily. He knew it, just as she did. All it would take was one long drugging open-mouthed kiss to destroy any vestige of her self-restraint.
One strong hand slid up to cup her nape, his thumb tilting the uppermost edge of her jaw, holding it fast as she attempted to twist her head away from him. Then his lips brushed hers, lightly at first, teasing, nibbling, tasting in a manner that was deliberately erotic, and left her aching with a terrible hunger, that longing for the satisfaction only he could give.
She resisted for what seemed a lifetime, but playing cool to Stefano’s undoubted expertise wreaked havoc with her nervous system, and she gave a hollow groan of despair as he lifted her high up against him, parting her thighs so that she straddled his waist, then she
