the disaster of her first marriage!
She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘That question doesn’t even merit an answer—What are you doing?’ she gasped as Cesare Gambrelli reached her side in one forceful stride to pull her to her feet and straight into his arms.
‘Well, if you do not know, Robin, then perhaps I had better show you!’ he came back mockingly, before his head lowered and his mouth claimed hers.
She was too surprised initially either to fight or respond to the sudden onslaught—was aware only of a leaping of her pulse rate, of the way her hands moved up to grasp the broadness of his shoulders in order to stop herself falling, of how strong and muscled they were, as was the rest of his leanly hard body as he pulled her in tight against his arousal.
Robin wanted to resist him. Knew she should resist him. That she should push him away, should once again ask him to leave.
But as he moved that hard arousal sensuously against her she felt the return of that moist heat between her thighs, groaning low in her throat as his tongue parted her lips even farther and plunged hard and hot into her mouth in a rhythm that matched his thighs as they moved so seductively against hers.
Her body felt consumed by liquid fire, every part of her alive and responsive to Cesare’s slightest touch. Her nipples were hard and throbbing as he tore his mouth from hers, to lower his head and capture one of those hard peaks though her thin blouse and bra into the burning heat of his mouth, teeth gently biting even as his tongue moved moistly against that sensitive tip. Robin’s spine arched as she sought a release for the spasms of pleasure between her thighs.
So aroused, so lost in that pleasure was she, that she could only stare up at Cesare dazedly when he suddenly raised his head to look down at her triumphantly.
‘No, Robin,’ he mused. ‘I do not think sharing my bed will be unacceptable to you at all!’
His words, the scorn in his tone, made Robin feel as if she’d had a cold shower sprayed over her, so quickly did the heat of her arousal die. She pushed hard against him, almost stumbling as his arms immediately fell from around her and he stepped back to survey her with contemptuous eyes, his triumph at her capitulation more than obvious.
‘You bastard!’ she breathed furiously, her face burning both at her response to him and at his obvious disdain at her response.
‘Probably,’ he accepted unconcernedly. ‘But you will marry me, Robin. And soon, if we do not want the first of our children to be exactly what you have just called me,’ he amended.
Robin felt embarrassed by her response to him seconds ago, angry with Cesare for being able to arouse her so easily, and not a little uncomfortable in her slightly damp blouse. She certainly wasn’t in any sort of mood to put up with this man’s supreme arrogance much longer!
‘I have no intention of marrying you,’ she gritted. ‘Now or in the future!’
‘Oh, but I think you will, Robin,’ he contradicted softly. ‘I think you will marry me very soon. And I think you will do so without any more histrionics.’
Robin looked at him searchingly—at his assured expression, the challenge in his gaze. His self-confidence was such that she sensed she hadn’t yet got all the facts. ‘What is it you haven’t yet told me?’ she finally voiced slowly.
‘Intelligent as well as beautiful,’ Cesare complimented her with a mocking inclination of his head—though he was not as unmoved by what had happened a few minutes ago as he liked to appear.
Robin Ingram really did have the most responsive body—a body that he knew had been on the point of orgasm when he’d decided to release her.
But he did not intend to make love to her in the sitting room of her father’s home. He wanted to be in bed, both of them naked, when he gave Robin that release—wanted to lie and watch her, feel her, touch her as her body spasmed and trembled with pleasure. And then he wanted to lie back again, and watch her, feel her, as she gave him the same pleasure.
‘What have I not yet told you?’ he repeated consideringly, his teeth bared in a wolfish grin. ‘How very astute of you, Robin, to realise I have saved the best until last.’
‘Oh, cut the sarcasm and just get on with it!’ she bit back impatiently.
His grin turned to a genuine smile. ‘Sexual frustration has not improved your temper, I see,’ he observed in amusement.
Her eyes narrowed to purple slits. ‘You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me why it is you’re so confident that I’ll marry you, after which I will call for the butler and have you removed—forcibly, if necessary—from my father’s house!’ she warned him heatedly.
‘Somehow I do not think so,’ he taunted confidently. ‘But, nevertheless, I have no objection to satisfying your curiosity.’ He gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘In fact, it was always my intention to tell you exactly why it is you have no choice but to agree to marrying me.’
‘I’m all ears!’ Robin came back wearily, wanting this man gone. Not just from the house, but from her life!
She wanted to sit and lick her wounds—her battle scars!—in private, away from this man’s all-seeing, all-knowing gaze.
‘On the contrary,’ Cesare Gambrelli continued derisively. ‘Your ears, though charming, are far from your best feature.’ His gaze moved slowly down to her breasts, lingering there.
It took all of Robin’s will-power not to look down at her breasts too—to check and see if the material had dried enough yet after the caressing of this man’s mouth for her nipples not to be clearly visible.
‘You have ten seconds left!’ she warned through gritted teeth.
He gave a confident smile even as he reached into the top pocket of his jacket, bringing out several pieces of paper that he began to unfold with infuriating slowness.
Robin watched him much as a fly must watch the spider that had caught it in its web. She was sure, from Cesar1e Gabrelli’s unshakeable manner, that whatever those papers contained he personally had no doubts it was enough to induce her to accept his marriage proposal.
The marriage proposal that hadn’t been a marriage proposal at all, but a statement of intent!
CHAPTER THREE
‘IS IT NOT time for you to call the butler, Robin?’ Cesare Gambrelli prompted. ‘I believe my allotted ten seconds are up!’
Yes, they were up, and they had passed slowly, painstakingly, as this man meticulously unfolded the sheets of paper he had withdrawn from his jacket pocket.
But her curiosity was such—as Cesare Gambrelli had known it would be!—that Robin had no intention of calling for anyone until she knew exactly what those papers contained.
‘And I believe I told you to get on with it?’ she came back tightly, so tense that her shoulders actually ached.
His mouth tightened. ‘I do not care to have you, or indeed anyone else, tell me what to do!’
‘Ditto,’ she assured him tartly.
Cesare looked
