Natalie could see where Angelo got his height and looks from as soon as she set eyes on his father. While an inch or two shorter than his son, Sandro had the same dark brown eyes and lean, rangy build. His hair was still thick and curly but it was liberally streaked with grey, giving him a distinguished air that was as compelling as it was intimidating.
Francesca, on the other hand, was petite, and her demeanour outwardly demure, but her keen hazel eyes missed nothing. Natalie felt them move over her in one quick assessing glance, noting her hair and make-up, the style and make of her clothes, the texture of her skin and the state of her figure.
‘This is Natalie, my fiancée,’ Angelo said. ‘Natalie—my parents, Sandro and Francesca.’
‘Welcome to the family.’ Francesca was the first to speak. ‘Angelo has told us so much about you. I am sorry we didn’t meet you five years ago. We would’ve told him he was a fool for letting you go—si, Sandro?’
‘Si,’ Sandro said, taking her hand once his wife had relinquished it. ‘You are very welcome indeed.’
Angelo’s arm came back around her waist. ‘I’ll see that Natalie is settled in upstairs before we join you for a celebratory drink.’
‘Maria has made up the Venetian room for you both,’ Francesca said. ‘I didn’t see the point in separating you. You’ve been apart too long, no?’
Natalie glanced at Angelo, but he was smiling at his mother. ‘That was very thoughtful of you, Mamma,’ he said.
Natalie had to wait until they were upstairs and alone before she could vent her spleen. ‘I bet you did that deliberately,’ she said.
‘Did what?’
‘Don’t play the guileless innocent with me,’ she flashed back. ‘You knew your mother would put us in the same room, didn’t you?’
‘On the contrary. I thought she would go old-fashioned on me and put us at opposite ends of the villa,’ he said. ‘I told you she’s incredibly insightful. She must have sensed how hot you are for me.’
Natalie glared at him. ‘I’m not sharing that bed with you.’
‘Fine,’ he said unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I’ll let you have the floor.’
She frowned at him. ‘What are you doing?’
He pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers. ‘I’m getting changed.’
Her eyes went the flat plane of his abdomen. He looked amazing—so masculine, so taut, so magnificently fit and tanned and virile. She swung away and went to look out of the windows overlooking the gardens.
‘Why did you let your parents think it was you who ended our affair five years ago?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t want you to get off to a bad start with them,’ he said. ‘I’m their only child. Parents can be funny about things like that.’
Natalie turned around. He was only wearing black underwear now. The fabric clung to him lovingly. Her insides clenched with greedy fistfuls of desire. She had kissed and tasted every inch of his body. She had taken him in her mouth, ruthlessly tasting him until he had collapsed with release. She had felt him move deep within her. She had felt his essence spill inside her. She had been as brazen as she could be with him and yet still he had always been a step ahead of her. He had pushed her to the limit time and time again. Her flesh shivered in memory of his touch. Her spine tingled and her belly fluttered. She drew in a breath as she saw his gaze run over her. Was he too thinking of the red-hot passion they had shared?
‘I don’t expect you to take the blame,’ she said. ‘I’m not ashamed of breaking off our relationship. I was too young to get married.’
‘That won’t cut it with my mother, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘She was barely sixteen when she fell in love with my father. She has never looked at another man since.’
‘Is your father faithful to her?’
He frowned. ‘What makes you ask that?’
Natalie lifted a shoulder up and down. ‘They’ve been together a long time. It’s not uncommon for a man to stray.’
‘My father takes his marriage vows seriously,’ he said. ‘He is exactly like my grandfather in that.’
‘And what about you, Angelo?’ she asked. ‘Will you follow in their honourable footsteps, or will you have your little bits on the side if I don’t come up trumps?’
He came over to where she was standing. Stopped just in front of her. So close she could feel her body swaying towards him like a compass searching for magnetic north. She fought against the desire to close the minuscule distance. She stood arrow-straight, stiff to the point of discomfort. Her heart was racing; the hammer blows were making her giddy, her breathing shallow and uneven.
Her resolve, God help her, was crumbling.
Angelo slipped a warm hand behind her head at the nape of her neck setting off a shower of sensation beneath the surface of her sensitive skin.
‘Why do you fight with yourself so much?’ he asked.
Natalie pressed her lips together. ‘I’m fighting you, not myself.’
His fingers moved through her hair in a spine-tingling caress. ‘We both want the same thing, cara,’ he said. ‘Connection, intimacy, satisfaction.’
She could feel her resolve slipping even further out of her control. Why did he have to look so damned gorgeous? Why did he have to have such melting brown eyes? Why did he have to have such amazing hands that made her flesh tingle with sensation? Why did he have to have such a tempting mouth?
For God’s sake, why didn’t he throw her backwards caveman-style on the bed and ravish her?
In the end it was impossible to tell who had closed the distance between their bodies. Suddenly she felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her belly. It was like putting a match to a decade of dried-out tinder. She felt the flames erupt beneath her flesh. They licked along every nerve pathway, from the top of her scalp to her toes.
Her mouth met his in a combative duel that had no hint of romance or tenderness about it. It was all about lust—primal, ravenous lust—that was suddenly let loose after being restrained for far too long. She felt the scorch of his lips as they ground against hers. And then his tongue thrust boldly through the seam of her lips, making her insides flip over in delight. Her tongue tangled with his, fighting for supremacy, but he wouldn’t give in. She felt the scrape of her teeth against his; she even tasted blood but couldn’t be sure whose it was. She fed off his mouth greedily, rapaciously, and little whimpers of pleasure sounded deep in her throat as he varied the speed and pressure.
He crushed her to him, one of his hands ruthlessly tugging her top undone so he could access her breast. She felt her achingly tight nipple rubbing against his palm. A wave of longing besieged her. She felt it flickering like a pulse between her thighs. She felt the honeyed moistness of her body preparing for his possession. She rubbed up against him intimately, the feminine heart of her on fire, aching, pulsing, contracting with a need so great it was
