Bound To The Billionaire: Captive in His Castle / In Petrakis's Power / The Count's Prize. Christina Hollis
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recovered from his amnesia? she thought anxiously. The truth about his missing money might never be uncovered and Drago would always think the worst of her.
He could not force her to stay in Venice for ever, she reminded herself. But in order to return to England she would first have to organise a new passport, and to do that she needed her bank card, which was also in her rucksack at the bottom of the canal. Everything seemed complicated, and sleeping with Drago last night had confused the situation even more. She must have been mad. It was no excuse that her common sense had been obliterated by the firestorm of passion that had ignited between her and Drago. No excuse at all…
She darted him a glance, and her heart missed a beat when her eyes met his brooding gaze. The evening air was cool, and he frowned when he saw her shiver.
‘Here—take this,’ he said as he slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
‘Thank you.’ Was that breathy, seductive whisper really her voice?
The silk lining of the jacket retained the warmth of his body and felt sensuous against her bare arms. She wished it was his arms around her rather than the jacket, and recalled with shocking clarity how wonderful his naked body had felt when he had pulled her beneath him and made love to her. Desperate to banish her traitorous thoughts, she closed her eyes. But images remained of Drago’s bronzed chest, overlaid with the whorls of dark hair that had scraped the sensitive tips of her breasts when he had lowered himself onto her.
‘I still want you, too,’ his deep, gravelly voice whispered in her ear, and his breath feathered her cheek. Her lashes flew open and, startled, she caught her breath when she saw the hunger in his eyes that glittered like polished jet.
‘I don’t…’
‘Yes, cara, you do.’ He captured her denial with his lips and banished it with a kiss that was fiercely passionate yet held an underlying gentleness that was unexpected and utterly beguiling.
Jess lost her battle with herself. The pleasure of having Drago’s mouth move over hers was impossible to resist, and when he traced his tongue over the tight line of her clamped lips she gave a little moan and parted them so that the kiss became intensely erotic.
Lost in the magic he was creating, Jess stared at him helplessly when at last he lifted his head. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t know what the hell is going on either,’ he told her roughly. ‘This was not meant to happen.’
Drago’s taut voice revealed his frustration. He disliked public displays of affection and could not believe that he had kissed Jess on a gondola in the middle of Venice’s main waterway. At least the gondolier had discreetly averted his gaze, and when they drew up by the Palazzo d’Inverno he handed the man a large tip.
Jess walked ahead of Drago into the palazzo, her stiletto heels tapping on the marble floor, echoing the staccato beat of her heart.
He caught up with her as she reached the stairs. ‘What would you like to do for the rest of the evening? I have a selection of English DVDs if you want to watch a film.’
She tore her eyes from the sensual curve of his mouth that only a few moments ago had decimated her ability to think, and knew that she dared not spend another minute alone with him. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go straight to bed.’
His sudden grin stole her breath. Without his usual arrogant expression he looked almost boyish and heart-stoppingly sexy.
‘Excellent idea,’ he murmured.
She flushed with mortification when she realised he had taken her words as an invitation, but her frantic, ‘I meant alone,’ was muffled against his shoulder as he scooped her into his arms and strode up the stairs. ‘Drago—we can’t,’ she whispered when he reached his suite of rooms and carried her through to the bedroom. ‘Last night was a mistake.’
He tumbled her onto the bed and came down on top of her so that she felt the hard proof of his arousal nudge her thigh. Threading his fingers through her hair, he stared into her eyes, the amusement fading from his.
‘Last night was inevitable from the moment we met,’ he said harshly.
It was the truth. She had taken one look at him and fallen in lust—not love, Jess quickly assured herself. No way would she risk her heart with him. But no other man had ever made her feel this way. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids—light, delicate kisses that melted the last vestiges of her resistance. His fingers tugged open the buttons running down the front of her dress and he gave a low murmur of approval when he pushed the material aside and discovered that she was not wearing a bra.
‘Bellisima,’ he said thickly as he cupped her small breasts in his hands and anointed one dusky peak and then the other with his lips.
She caught fire, arching her slender body to meet his mouth and eagerly helping him to remove her dress and knickers. This was not the time for words; their need was too urgent. Drago stripped with a clumsy haste that was strangely touching, and after taking a condom from the bedside drawer and sliding it over the proud jut of his arousal he moved over her.
Jess caught her breath as he entered her. He filled her, completed her, and she wrapped her legs around him and held on tightly to his shoulders as he possessed her with deep, measured strokes, driving her higher. As her body trembled with the exquisite ripples of orgasm her heart soared, and when Drago groaned with the power of his own release she felt a fierce tenderness and the strangest sense that their souls had joined.
The crowds of tourists in St Mark’s Square had thinned in the early evening and the restaurants became busier. Sitting beneath the striped awning of a café on the edge of the square, her elbow propped on the table and her hand cupping her chin, Jess had a clear view of the ornate and incredibly beautiful Basilica.
‘I think I’m in love,’ she murmured. Beside her she felt Drago stiffen, and when she glanced at him and saw his startled frown she laughed. ‘Not with you. With Venice.’
‘Ah.’ His relief was evident in his smile.
For some reason Jess felt a little pang of regret that he wanted nothing more from her than sex. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself sternly. She knew their affair was based purely on their physical attraction to one another. Their sex-life was amazing, but inevitably the fiery passion they shared would burn out.
‘At the weekend we can climb to the top of the Campanile again, if you like,’ he offered. ‘I know how much you enjoyed the views over the city. Or I’ll take you to see the Doge’s Palace. The interior is impressive, and filled with stunning artworks. And of course you can’t visit Venice without walking over the Bridge of Sighs.’
‘It’s such a romantic name. I wonder why it’s called that?’
‘The popular explanation is rather less romantic than the name suggests. The bridge used to lead to the state prison, and crossing it would often be a prisoner’s last view of Venice.’
Jess sighed. ‘I feel guilty sightseeing when Angelo is stuck in hospital.’
‘You have visited him every day for the past few weeks, and I know how much he appreciates your company. Angelo would not begrudge you some free time,’ Drago insisted.
‘But I shouldn’t have free time. I should be at home, running my business.’ Jess chewed her bottom lip with her teeth—something she unconsciously did when she was anxious. ‘I know that when I phoned Mike he said everything is fine, and that he had secured a new contract for T&J Decorators to refurbish a commercial property, but I need to go back and take charge. My company means everything to me. It’s the only thing I’ve ever succeeded at,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘Once Angelo’s memory has returned you will be free to leave.’
Drago’s smile was full of easy charm but his tone was uncompromising, and Jess’s spirits plummeted with the realisation that he still suspected she had some involvement with his cousin’s missing inheritance fund. And in