Tall, Dark and Italian: In the Italian's Bed / The Sicilian's Bought Bride / The Moretti Marriage. Carol Marinelli
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see you and I did not stop to think how it might look to you.’
‘Oh, please.’ Tess had heard enough. ‘We both know why you came here and it wasn’t to beg my forgiveness or anything as high-minded as that. You were at a loose end and you remembered how easy I’d been to seduce. I can’t exactly blame you for that but I don’t have to prove it.’
Castelli gave a harsh exclamation. ‘You are so wrong,’ he said vehemently. ‘Wrong about the reasons I came here and wrong about what happened on the beach.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she began, but her words were overridden by his.
‘What?’ he demanded bitterly. ‘Do you think if I was the kind of man you seem to think I am, I would have been so galante? And by the way, I did not seduce you, cara. I wanted to. Ah, sì, I admit I wanted to. Why not? You are a very desirable woman. But, contrary to your beliefs, I do not make love with women who are only a few years older than my own daughter. I have standards, too, and I know I am too old for you.’ He shrugged. ‘That is all I wanted to tell you.’
Tess stared at him. ‘So why come here? Why make a special journey just to tell me something I don’t believe and which I don’t think you believe either.’
Castelli’s lips twisted. ‘You are a hard woman, Tess,’ he said heavily. ‘And perhaps you are right. Perhaps I did come here hoping you might be glad to see me. I like you. I like being with you. And if you think I wanted to let you go the other afternoon…’ He sighed. ‘Dio, I do not think even you can be that insensitive.’
Tess felt the force of his words deep in the pit of her stomach. Her body hummed with the sexual energy he was generating and, although she was trying so very hard to remain unmoved by his appeal, there was something disturbingly vulnerable in his face.
‘So—so what are you saying?’ she asked, despising herself for giving him an opening. ‘That the only reason you let me go was because you believe you’re too old for me?’
‘Not entirely.’ His response flattened a momentary spurt of excitement. ‘I was thinking of myself, too.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’ Tess shook her head. And then caught her breath when he strode forward and grabbed her wrist.
‘Stammi a sentire!’ he commanded harshly. ‘Listen to me!’ His thumb pressed hard on the fine veins on the inner side of her wrist. ‘You think you are the only one with something to lose here, but you are wrong. And I am not willing to provide a romantic diversion for someone who is only looking for a holiday affair.’
Tess swallowed. ‘I—I see.’
‘Do you?’ He was sardonic. ‘And do you also see that touching you like this is a mistake?’
Tess quivered. ‘Then let me go.’
‘To do what?’ He arched his dark brows, his eyes insistent, disturbing, intent. ‘Leave you with the impression that I am not strong enough to control my own feelings? Dio, Tess, this was not meant to happen. You are my connection to my son. That was supposed to be the only reason why we spent any time together.’
‘And it was,’ said Tess breathlessly, intensely aware of the sinuous yet immensely strong hold he had on her wrist. The heat from his fingers enveloped her arm, spread unchecked into her shoulder. She licked her dry lips, hardly aware of what she was doing. Then, persuasively, ‘Why don’t we have a glass of wine? I think we both need some time to cool off.’
‘Do we?’ With a twist of his wrist, he pulled her towards him, taking her wrist behind his back, pressing it into the taut curve of his spine. Then, exerting an increasing pressure, he bent his head and covered her lips with his.
His kiss was electric. As soon as their mouths fused, a devastating weakness almost buckled her knees beneath her. A frisson of alarm slid down her spine, a warning that she had no defences where he was concerned. But then his tongue slid between her teeth and she couldn’t bear to pull away.
Her lips parted beneath that sensual assault, and it was incredibly difficult to keep her eyes open when all she wanted to do was close them against the searching hunger in his. He was watching her, she thought fancifully, watching how easy it was for him to subdue her. But his predator’s eyes were also hot and mesmerising, causing goose-bumps to shiver over her flesh.
His mouth hardened, grew more demanding, and he released her wrist to place possessive hands on her hips. He drew her against him, letting her feel his heavy arousal throbbing against her stomach, leaving her in no doubt that, whatever his misgivings, he was as aroused as she was herself.
Tess’s hands fisted at her sides for a moment, but the desire to touch him became irresistible. With a little moan of submission, she lifted her arms and linked them behind his neck.
His response was to urge her even closer, their bodies melding together from chest to hip. His hands burned on her thighs as he cupped her buttocks and lifted her against him, and she wound one leg about his calf as he rubbed himself against her.
The effect of that sexual abrasion was incredible. Tiny synapses of energy fused her nerves, ran unchecked under her skin. Her breasts felt tight and a tiny trickle of sweat ran down between them. She wasn’t wearing a bra and she knew the dampness must be moistening the thin chemise top.
‘Tu voglio,’ he whispered unevenly, the roughening stubble on his jawline scratching her chin. His teeth fastened on the tender curve of her nape. She felt his suckling tongue right down to her core. ‘I want you,’ he repeated harshly, lifting his head to look down at her, his eyes darker now and strangely guarded as he met her startled gaze. ‘And I am just crazy enough tonight to cast caution to the winds. So—if you have any doubts about this, stop me now.’
As if she could, Tess thought weakly. Her own needs were like a consuming fire inside her. She knew what he was saying, that he was taking all and promising nothing. But she doubted she had the will to resist him when this might be the only chance with him she had.
‘I’m not a child,’ she said, trying to sound blasé and failing dismally. ‘I’m not a virgin either,’ she added, as if he cared. ‘You needn’t worry about me. I—I know what I’m doing.’
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