Latin Lovers: Italian Playboys: Bought for the Marriage Bed / The Italian GP's Bride / The Italian's Defiant Mistress. Kate Hardy
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into the water.
‘W-what are you doing?’ She shrank away.
‘What do you think I am doing?’ he asked.
She turned to get out but her foot slipped on the steps and she went under instead. She felt Marc’s hands on her waist as he steadied her, his body so close behind her she could feel every ridge and plane as she came upright.
The air she desperately needed in order to take her next breath stopped somewhere in the middle of her throat as he slowly turned her around so she was facing him. She could feel the magnetic pull of his body, drawing her closer and closer, even as the rational part of her brain insisted she step out of his hold. His fingers spanning her waist tightened fractionally, and one of his hard muscled thighs came between her trembling ones.
‘I don’t think this is such a good idea,’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the nervous up and down movement of her throat.
‘What is not a good idea?’ he asked, his eyes burning into hers.
‘Th-think of what it could cost you …’ Her eyes skittered away from his as she felt his hard thigh press even closer.
His hands slid upwards from her waist to hold her shoulders so he could secure her shifting gaze, his voice low and deep as if it had been dragged across gravel. ‘Do you think I give a damn about the money?’
She moistened her lips and then wished she hadn’t when his gaze dipped to her mouth and lingered there.
‘It’s a l-lot of money … and if it was doubled …’ She stared at the line of his mouth, wondering if he was going to allow himself to kiss her. Just one kiss. That wouldn’t be breaking his vow to keep the marriage unconsummated, would it?
His head came down slowly, his mouth stopping a mere breath away from the tingling surface of hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she felt herself rock towards him, her body seeking the hard warmth of his like a small iron filing did a too-powerful magnet.
At the first touch of his lips on hers heat licked like a hot tongue of flame, igniting her senses into a blazing roaring fire of need. He plundered her mouth, sending her head snapping back as his tongue thrust determinedly into her moist warmth, his arms pulling her into him where his body pulsed and throbbed.
Her hands went around his neck, her fingers plunging into the thickness of his hair, her breasts tight against his chest, their aching points nothing to the storm that had just erupted between her thighs. She could feel the dampness of need he’d awakened, the silk of sensual desire that called out for him with silent but fragrant pleas.
His hands came to her breasts, shaping them through the worn fabric, his warm palms covering her possessively, his mouth still determined on hers. He pushed the shoulder straps aside and uncovered her, the roughened edge of his fingertips running over her nipples until she ached to feel the rasp of his tongue there as well.
As if she had spoken her need out loud, he lifted his mouth off hers and bent his head to her exposed breasts, moving his mouth and tongue in tightening circles until she became unsteady on her feet.
He came back to her mouth, taking it with renewed pressure as if in tune with the fire of need he was fighting to control.
Her hands slipped down to his waist, her inexpert fingers skating over his shorts where they were distended, his erection reaching towards her, as if seeking her feathering touch.
He groaned into her mouth as she shaped him, and again, even more deeply, when her fingers slipped inside to where he pulsed with increasing urgency.
He tore his mouth off hers and stared down at her, his dark eyes burning with unrelieved need, his chest rising and falling against hers as he struggled to rein in his galloping breath.
‘This is exactly what you planned, is it not?’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘You wanted to make me eat my words, every one of them.’
‘No!’ Her hands fell away from his body with a little splash. ‘No, of course not.’
He gave a rough grunt of derision. ‘It’s another of your tricks. You like to play the innocent now and again to put me off the scent of your real motives.’ He dropped his hold and stepped back from her, his eyes still scorching her with contempt.
‘Marc … I—’
‘I know what you are up to.’ He launched himself out of the pool and turned around to glare down at her. ‘You will not rest until you have me begging. That is what you want, isn’t it, Nina? Your final triumph in the face of Andre’s rejection would be to have his older brother on his knees, offering you anything you want in exchange for your body. That is why you did not ask for payment, isn’t it? To make me think you were not after money when in fact you are after so much more.’
‘But I’m not after—’
‘Get out of my sight,’ he barked at her. ‘Take your lies and your deceptive little games out of my damn sight!’
Nina got out of the pool with quiet dignity, her sense of pride refusing to allow him to intimidate her with his fury. She could tell he was angrier with himself than with her. Angry that he wanted her in spite of all he’d said to the contrary. But she felt sure this wasn’t just about the money, it was about pride—his pride.
‘You can’t order me about like that,’ she said, standing in front of him. ‘I won’t allow you to.’
Something moved behind his eyes as he stepped towards her again. ‘You will not allow me to?’ he asked with a curl of his lip.
‘No,’ she said, holding his gaze. ‘I won’t allow you to speak to me in such a way.’
He drew himself up to his full height, his mouth tightening as he looked down at her. ‘Tell me, Nina, how are you going to stop me?’
She moistened her lips, her stomach giving a tiny quiver at the fiery intensity of his gaze. ‘I’ll think of something.’
He threw his head back and laughed.
Nina pursed her lips and frowned at him. ‘You have appalling manners. I suppose it comes from having so much money. You think you can get people to do what you want by writing a cheque or issuing autocratic demands.’
‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled. ‘Look at the pretty little pot telling off the kettle for being black.’
‘You know what your trouble is, Marc?’ she said, incensed by his attitude. ‘You don’t like yourself. You keep blaming me for your brother’s death but I get this distinct impression that you actually blame yourself. I might be a convenient scapegoat but I will not have you browbeat me to appease your own sense of inadequacy.’
It became instantly obvious to Nina that she’d hit him on a particularly raw nerve. She saw it in the sudden flare of anger in his black eyes and in the tight clench of his hands as he held them by his sides as if he didn’t trust himself not to use them against her.
He didn’t speak for a long time but his silence was more menacing than any blistering statement could be, she thought as she stood before him defiantly.
‘Tell me something, Nina.’ He tipped up her chin with one long determined finger. ‘Tell me why you fell in love with my brother.’
She froze at his words, her eyes flaring in panic, her heart ramming against her ribcage as she did her best to hold his hard penetrating look.
‘You did love him, did you not?’ he asked when she didn’t answer.
Nina lowered her gaze to concentrate on the beads of moisture still clinging to the strong column of his neck. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him yet another lie.
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t love him.’
Marc’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously as her gaze came back to his. ‘You callous bitch. You callous little money-hungry bitch.’
She