‘Besides—’ his voice lowered to something like a caress ‘—I know you, Ella. You’ve got too much integrity to gossip about my private life.’
Integrity?
Ella looked into those serious eyes and wondered. Was it integrity to keep her father’s true character from Donato? Shouldn’t she at least warn him that Reg Sanderson was as slimy as any sewer rat, and totally untrustworthy?
ELLA’S DELIGHTED CHUCKLE took Donato by surprise.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Women didn’t find him amusing in bed. Yet his mouth curved at the sound. Her delight was infectious.
An hour ago, telling Ella about his mother’s death, he hadn’t imagined laughing again so soon.
He’d laughed more these last two months than he had in years.
She traced her index finger over his chest, trawling down to circle his nipple. He sucked in his breath as desire shafted through him, tightening his groin and his muscles as he leaned over her.
‘The fact we actually made it to your bed and we’re naked. Usually we don’t get this far the first time. Or if we do, we’re still half dressed.’ Ella’s silver-blue eyes danced and Donato was as intrigued as ever by their beauty.
There wasn’t one thing about Ella he didn’t find intriguing. From her lush mouth to her delicious body and her tendency to cover it rather than flaunt it in revealing clothes. Then there were her smart tongue, her quick wit and her love of her career. The more he heard about her work, the more he realised it was part of her, caring for others. She took pride in what she did, yet was curiously defensive about it.
‘I thought you’d appreciate the comfort of a mattress.’ His smile widened as he lifted his hand to her breast, mirroring her movement against his body, watching her expression as he tweaked her nipple.
He loved the way she responded so honestly, giving freely even as she demanded everything from him.
Donato pushed her thighs further apart and sank between them.
‘Don’t get too used to the bed, cariño. I intend to take you in every room of this house, and there are parts of the garden we haven’t explored.’
He took her nipple in his mouth and she arched high, gasping. She tasted of apricots, warm from the summer sun, and her skin’s light floral scent was a heady draught for his senses.
Beneath him Ella shifted needily. ‘I like the fact you’re so...thorough.’
‘Always, cariño.’
Except he’d never needed a woman as much and as often as he did Ella. He’d never known such unflagging desire.
He’d always been a discriminating lover—not surprising, given his mother’s experiences. But this felt different to any previous sexual relationship. Nothing matched the pleasure he found with Ella. Whenever she gave herself to him it was so good.
Better than good.
The best he’d ever known.
That must explain why he took such inordinate care and time now. Why he concentrated as much energy and focus on pleasuring her as he did on finalising any of his multi-million-dollar deals. He wanted to fill Ella’s senses till there was only him. He wanted her screaming his name as she flew apart beneath him, around him. He wanted her abandoned and sated.
Restless fingers burrowed through his hair. ‘Kiss me, Donato. Please.’
He relinquished her breast with one final lingering lick and was rewarded with a sigh of delight. He lifted himself higher, looked down into her flushed face and stalled, his heart thumping.
Her eyes had lost that glimmer of humour. Even the desire he was accustomed to seeing had been eclipsed. Instead that diamond-bright glitter looked awash, glazed with tears, and her expression...he couldn’t name it. It was more than arousal. More than sexual excitement. It was tender and sad and hopeful and a million things he couldn’t name.
Because he’d never seen them in any woman’s eyes before.
Except there was something there that reminded him of his mother when he’d been tiny and she’d cradled his skinny frame close, telling him everything would be all right, despite her bruises and his empty belly.
Emotion scoured him. His chest heaved and tightened.
How had sex morphed into this? Donato reared back, bracing himself on his arms above Ella.
She grabbed his shoulders, her legs lifting to wrap around his waist, stopping him when he would have moved further away.
He could have broken her hold, except, he realised, part of him wanted to stay. The part that was mesmerised by the tenderness in her expression.
Donato told himself it was the unfamiliarity of it. The novelty.
‘Kiss me, Donato.’
‘You’re feeling sorry for me.’ He couldn’t believe it. Every instinct had warned against revealing so much of his past. But he hadn’t expected this.
Everything rebelled at her pity. He’d looked after himself, and his mother, since he was a kid. He’d almost killed a man with his bare hands, before he learned to curb the anger inside. He’d survived prison, not unscathed, but stronger and in some ways more dangerous than before. He had the life he wanted, the power he desired. He bought and sold enterprises with ease. He was about to enjoy the biggest, most satisfying coup of his life.
‘I don’t want your sympathy.’ The words emerged through gritted teeth. ‘I refuse to accept it.’
Ella shook her head and shut her eyes. When she opened them again her expression was guarded and there was a wry twist to her lips.
‘I’m sorry for the little boy you once were.’ She lifted one hand to his face, her palm warm against his locked jaw. ‘Sorry too for the lost teenager, trying to get back to his mother.’
‘I was never lost. I knew exactly where I was.’ Though, he admitted silently, he’d lost his way when grief and anger had erupted. When the keening sense of loss had been too much to bear.
Ella’s hand shifted to stroke his scar. It wasn’t the first time she’d touched it. But this time she did it with such deliberation his breath sucked in.
‘Don’t worry, Donato. I know you don’t need my sympathy now. You’re big and bold and formidable. You’re dangerous in ways most men wouldn’t dare to be, and most women dream of.’ Her lips tilted in a tiny secret smile that made something flip and twist in his belly.
Her hand dropped and Donato swallowed hard rather than ask her to touch him again. The sensation of her light caress on his cheek lingered, as if she’d marked him.
‘Good.’ He nodded briskly. ‘Just so you understand, I don’t need pity. My needs are far simpler.’ He lifted
