Sweet Revenge: The Martinez Marriage Revenge / The Italian Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge / The Kouros Marriage Revenge. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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hands had explored her body and gifted untold pleasure. And, ultimately, the sex.
Mind-blowing electrifying passion that liquefied her bones and made her his more thoroughly than any words he might offer.
It shouldn’t have happened.
She should have done more than utter a weak-willed protest, then given in to the provocative power of his touch and its pagan promise to banish her restraint.
Worse, allow him to lead her through intoxicating desire to join him again and again in mesmeric primitive climax.
His possession had made her acutely aware of sensitive tissues, and she could still feel the slight throb deep within resulting from his sexual presence.
It was … entrancing, consuming, and made her supremely conscious of what they’d shared. And would again.
Unless she chose to deny him.
Except denying him meant also denying herself, and she hated the disruptive annihilating need he generated in her with such ease.
‘Mummy, you’re not listening.’
Shannay summoned a smile and avoided meeting Marcello’s gaze as she gave Nicki her whole attention.
She knew what he would see, and she refused to allow him the benefit of reading her mind, for he managed to divine her innermost thoughts despite her efforts to the contrary.
‘We need to pack swimming gear for the visit to Aquopolis?’ She hazarded the guess, and heard his faint chuckle at Nicki’s audible sigh.
‘Daddy says we can take a picnic to another park. Not tomorrow, but the day after.’
‘That sounds lovely, darling.’ She noticed her daughter’s empty cereal bowl. ‘What would you like on your toast?’
A return to the prosaic might have fooled Nicki, but she doubted the man seated opposite was under any such illusion, and it was a relief to temporarily escape when the meal concluded.
Ramon appeared to have faded slightly, his air of fragility a little more pronounced, yet his smile was warm and his eyes displayed delight as Nicki greeted him with affection.
Their visit was brief, on medical advice, for he seemed to tire more easily with each passing day.
Aquopolis proved to be a wonderful attraction, with plenty of fun to keep Nicki enthralled for several hours, for there were slides and numerous water features. Add a picnic lunch, and their daughter pronounced it heaven.
It was late when they left, and Nicki barely made it through her bath and a light evening meal before falling asleep within seconds of her head touching the pillow.
Shannay retreated to her suite to shower and change for dinner … only to discover her clothes reposing in the capacious wardrobe were no longer there.
The few drawers into which she’d stowed some personal items were now empty, and when she examined the adjoining en suite, all of her toiletries and make-up had been removed.
Marcello?
Or Maria, acting on his instructions?
Whatever … transferring her and her belongings to the master suite wasn’t going to happen.
One night’s transgression was enough.
There wasn’t going to be a repeat.
With that in mind, she walked the gallery to his suite and entered without bothering to knock.
The shower was running, and she quickly crossed to the second walk-in wardrobe, retrieved her clothing and tossed it onto the bed, then she gathered up her personal items and transferred them to her room further along the gallery before returning to clear what remained.
Drawers she’d utilised in the past held everything she needed, and she was in the process of scooping them out when a deep, drawling voice momentarily arrested the movement of her hands.
‘Looking for something?’
She took a few seconds to draw a deep breath, then she turned to face him, hating the sudden traitorous curl unfurling deep inside at the sight of his near-naked frame.
‘I’m not moving into your room.’
Marcello slanted an eyebrow. ‘You’d prefer me to move into yours?’
Shannay wasn’t deceived by his even tone. ‘No.’
‘Then we have a problem.’
‘No, we don’t.’
‘You intend to slink in here in the dead of night and leave at dawn?’
She tilted her chin and sent him a steady look. ‘Last night was—’
‘An aberration? A mistake?’ The dangerous silkiness in his voice took hold of her nerve-ends and tugged a little.
‘We each became carried away and indulged ourselves with sex?’
A sudden lump rose in her throat, and she attempted to swallow it in order to speak. ‘Yes.’
‘Justify the night however you choose. It doesn’t change where you’ll sleep.’
He watched the colour leave her cheeks, and hardened his heart. ‘The bed’s large, and sex,’ he gave the word a faint emphasis, ‘won’t be on the menu unless you choose for it to be.’
Share the same bed, lie within touching distance … ‘You have to be joking!’
‘No.’ He turned and moved towards his walk-in wardrobe. ‘I’m going to dress for dinner.’ He paused fractionally.
‘Transfer everything to your room, if that’s what you want. But if you go to bed there, you’ll wake up in mine.’
Shannay merely glared at him and marched into the en suite, where she stripped off her clothes and took a long, hot shower in the hope it might help diminish her anger.
OK, so it was war, she declared silently as she dried off with a towel, then she wound it sarong-style around her body, secured it above her breasts and re-entered the bedroom.
Marcello caught the heat of battle apparent, and veiled his eyes against a faint gleam of humour as he rolled back his shirt-cuffs, then slid his feet into comfortable leather loafers.
‘Did anyone tell you you’re impossible?’
He had the satisfaction of offering—’Touché.’
She bore the look of someone much younger than her years with unbrushed hair and features free of make-up.
He restrained the desire to cross the room, dispense with the towel and kiss her senseless.
The fact he could provided a degree of satisfaction.
‘Maria has dinner waiting.’
Shannay almost told him precisely what he could do with dinner, except she didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead she extracted fresh underwear from a drawer, caught up a dress, then disappeared into the en suite again.
In an act of defiance she took longer than necessary, and emerged to discover he was conversing in French on his cellphone.
She selected a pair of heeled sandals and secured the straps.
‘Problems?’ she queried sweetly as he closed the connection.
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
‘How … eminently satisfying to be the epitome of professionalism.’
He almost laughed, for she was unlike any woman he knew. ‘Shall we adjourn downstairs?’
‘Oh, by all means, let’s adjourn.’
Sassy, definitely sassy. He wondered if she’d be quite so brave when they returned upstairs to retire for