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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with despair at the hatred shining in his.
‘You destroyed his life!’ His fingers bit into her arms. ‘You hunted him down and destroyed him for what? For what?’ he repeated bitterly.
‘Marc, I need to tell you—’ she began.
‘I do not want to hear anything you have to say,’ he snapped, cutting her off.
‘Marc, please.’ Her eyes misted over and her tone became pleading. ‘You don’t understand—’
‘I understand all right. I understand that you were not happy that Andre left you stranded without money. That is why you twisted the knife by threatening to have Georgia adopted, was it not?’ He gave her a disgusted look. ‘You never had any intention of giving her up. You were just playing a game to get as much money as you could.’
‘I have never wanted money from—’
‘Do not lie to me!’ he shouted. ‘You have played this for all you are worth. Well, I will tell you something, Nina.’ He lowered his voice but it was no less threatening. ‘You can have your money. All of it. I will double your allowance as of tomorrow.’
She blinked up at him in confusion. ‘But—’
‘I have changed my mind about our marriage,’ he said. ‘I’ve decided we will no longer adhere to the rules I set down.’
‘You can’t mean that!’
He smiled a chilling smile. ‘Why so worried, cara? You slept with my brother without loving him. Sleeping with me will not be beyond your capabilities, I’m sure.’
‘I don’t want to sleep with you!’ She wrenched herself out of his hold and stood glaring at him, rubbing her arms where his fingers had been.
‘I think we could more or less say I have paid dearly for the privilege,’ he pointed out ruthlessly.
‘I am not for sale,’ she said. ‘I don’t care how much money you throw at my feet. I will not be bought.’
‘You have been bought, Nina,’ he said. ‘You have already pocketed one instalment.’
‘I don’t want your money, Marc,’ she insisted. ‘I never wanted it.’
She could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe her. His mouth was tight with cynicism and his eyes diamond-hard as they tethered hers.
‘If you did not want it then why is it no longer in your account?’ he asked.
Nina’s eyes flared in anger. ‘You checked?’
He gave a single nod, his expression still unyielding.
‘You had no right to do that!’ Nina could feel the panic beating like an out of time drum in her chest. If Marc was watching her so closely it wouldn’t take him long to find out the truth. She’d only transferred the money less than an hour or two ago. What if he orchestrated a paper trail of her account to see where the money had been deposited?
‘You keep saying you do not want money but what is it you do want, Nina?’ Marc said, breaking the humming silence.
She couldn’t answer. How could she tell him what she really wanted? She wanted him. She wanted him to make her feel alive as a woman. She wanted him to make her feel desirable, irresistible and precious. She wanted to feel him in the throes of uncontrollable passion for her, not for who she was pretending to be, but for her—Nina.
She held her breath as his hands ran down her arms to encircle her wrists.
‘Is this what you really want, Nina?’ he asked, tugging her up against him. ‘Is this what you crave more than money, the thing that I too crave until I cannot think straight for my need of you?’
She moistened her lips with her tongue, her heart doing a fluttery dance in her chest when she saw the way his eyes glittered with purpose.
His head came down, the heat from his mouth storming its way into hers, lighting a fire within her that refused to be banked down. She felt it crawling up her legs to pool in between her thighs, the heavy pulse of her desire for him only fanning the flames even further.
His tongue circled hers sensuously, the thrust and stab movements inciting her responses in a way she had not thought possible. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip, her tongue delved and her hands clung where they could to hold him to her. She heard him groan, a rough low growl of male primal need that made her feel incredibly feminine and vulnerable and yet strangely powerful at the same time.
She felt herself being carried along on a tide of need so strong she had no way of resisting even if she had wanted to. This scorching physical chemistry had been crackling between them from the very first day and it seemed that, in spite of Marc’s determination to resist her, it was becoming clear he was no longer able to do so. The evidence of his desire for her was breathtakingly unmistakable; she could feel his hard male body pressed tightly against her softer one, his mouth working its magic on hers until she was like warmed honey in his arms.
She felt his hands at her bathing suit straps where they had slipped from her shoulders, and then the rush of air as he pulled the material from her like a sloughed skin. Her legs quivered as she stepped out of the pool of wet fabric at her feet, her mouth still locked with his, her heart thudding with the hectic pace of her fevered blood as he pressed her to the nearest cushioned lounger.
He came down on top of her heavily, his legs entrapping hers, his solid weight a welcome burden. She began to claw at his shorts but he shoved her hand away as he dealt with them himself. She gave a breathless gasp of anticipation when she felt him against her, the length and satin strength of him searching for the entry of her body with a desperation she could feel echoing deep within her.
He drove forward with a deep guttural groan which drowned out the sound of her bitten-off cry as he tore through her tender untried flesh. She sucked in a breath and tried not to cry out again as he thrust deeply, but her body resented the intrusion and made it impossible for her to hold back the sound of her discomfort. She gave one short sharp cry, biting down on her lip as soon as it escaped, but it was too late.
Marc stilled his movements and, easing his weight off her, looked down at her, his frown almost closing the space between his dark-as-night eyes.
Tears sprang to her eyes and her teeth sank even further into her bottom lip.
‘Cristo,’ he groaned and rolled off her in one movement.
Nina closed her eyes, her limbs suddenly feeling cold without the warmth of his. ‘Nina … I—’
‘Please don’t say anything.’ She scrambled to her feet without looking at him and reached for her towel.
‘I am assuming from your reaction that you had rather a difficult delivery with Georgia,’ he said, his voice flat and unemotional.
She wound the towel around her body without looking his way.
‘Nina?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘We have to talk, whether you like it or not. I need to know.’
‘What do you need to know?’ She turned on him. ‘Do you want to hear how Georgia was born after fifteen hours of labour without her father present? How her father refused to acknowledge her existence? Is that what you want to know?’
Marc stared at her, all of his carefully rehearsed accusations fading away.
‘You have no right to cast judgement,’ she continued. ‘Do you have any idea of what it’s like to be pregnant and alone?
Do you?’
He drew in a breath and let it out on a sigh. ‘No, I do not. You are right. I have no right to judge.’
‘Georgia needed a father and my … I mean I needed someone to help me bring her into the world, but your brother