The Gold Collection: Surrender To The Tycoon. Chantelle Shaw
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not love her, she thought bleakly.
She sighed. ‘I had no idea that Gareth had secretly been seeing Claire for months. In retrospect, things hadn’t been right between us for a while, but I was so busy with the wedding preparations and I assumed that once we were married our relationship would go back to how it had been. I couldn’t believe it when he admitted that he and Claire were having an affair. But it explained a lot,’ she said wryly.
‘What do you mean?’
She shrugged. ‘Before we split up Gareth had lost interest in … well—’ she flushed ‘—the physical side of our relationship. I knew he was working hard, and all relationships go through flat patches. I felt he didn’t find me attractive any more and I put it down to the fact that I’d put on a few pounds. Being around food all day tends to be bad for your waistline,’ she said ruefully, remembering how confused and humiliated she had felt when Gareth had regularly fallen asleep in front of the television when she had been desperate for him to take her to bed. ‘I should have guessed that he didn’t want to have sex with me because he was having it with someone else.’
Dante nodded, as if he understood, which puzzled her because she did not see how he could know how it felt to be rejected. It was not something a handsome millionaire was likely to experience, she thought.
‘Infidelity and the betrayal of trust can be devastating,’ he said harshly.
Rebekah stared at him, taken aback by his statement and the bitterness she had heard in his voice. How could a self-confessed playboy understand the pain caused by hearing that someone you loved had been unfaithful?
‘Are you saying that from the point of view of the betrayer or the betrayed?’
He did not reply, and his shuttered expression gave no clue to his thoughts. But then he said tautly, ‘Let’s just say I learned the hard way that men and women are drawn together by lust but our so-called civilised society insists on romanticising what is essentially just a physical need and calling it love.’
‘So you don’t believe in the concept of everlasting love?’
‘Do you, after the man you loved and were expecting to marry turned out to be a liar and a cheat?’
She turned away from Dante and watched the dying rays of the sun streak the sky with fiery flames of pink and orange. The beauty of it touched her soul and with a little flare of pain she thought how heartbreaking it was that her child had never seen a sunset.
She was shocked by the realisation that Dante must have been hurt in the past. She had believed him to be a womaniser who had no interest in meaningful relationships—a perception he promoted because it was what he wanted people to believe, she thought with a flash of insight. She was curious about the identity of the woman who had hurt him, and wondered if he had loved her. For some reason the idea evoked a needle-dart of pain inside her.
‘I do believe in love,’ she said quietly. ‘I see it in my parents’ eyes when they look at each other. They haven’t had an easy life; the farm has never earned much money. But Mum and Dad have weathered the storms together and they’re devoted to each other. I had a bad experience with Gareth, and I admit that for a while I thought I would never want to risk being hurt again. But I don’t want to be alone all my life, and one day I hope I’ll have a relationship with someone that leads to marriage and a family.’
She glanced at him. In the rapidly fading light he looked so stern and remote that it was hard to believe he had ever allowed anyone into his heart, and she sensed that he would not do so again.
‘Can you really be happy having one meaningless affair after another?’ she murmured.
Perfectly happy, Dante assured himself, refusing to acknowledge the traitorous thought that for the past couple of months he had felt a growing sense of restlessness and discontentment with his life. It was pure coincidence that this feeling had begun soon after he had employed his new chef.
‘Absolutely,’ he drawled. His chair scraped on the patio stones and he stood up and walked around the table to Rebekah. She was wearing a simple white sundress and, with her long hair falling around her shoulders, she looked achingly beautiful and innocent. But she had proved two nights ago that she was no inexperienced virgin. The wild abandonment with which she had made love with him had been exciting and strangely humbling. She had held nothing back and the sweet honesty of her response to him had made sex with her a mind-blowing experience that he was impatient to repeat.
‘While we’re here in Tuscany I will prove to you how satisfying sex without emotional involvement can be,’ he told her as he pulled her to her feet and stared down at her flushed face. His eyes blazed with a feral hunger that caused Rebekah’s heart to miss a beat.
‘Dante …’ The word don’t trembled on her lips and was muffled as he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her. It was a hot, passionate kiss that demanded her response. She would be a fool to succumb to him warned a voice in her head, but she could already feel heat spreading through her body and a melting sensation in the pit of her stomach.
‘You want me, mia bella,’ he muttered when he finally broke the kiss to allow them to drag oxygen into their lungs. ‘And my hunger for you is patently obvious,’ he added sardonically as he cupped her bottom and pulled her up against him so that the hard length of his arousal pushed insistently into the cradle of her pelvis. ‘Why not enjoy what we have for as long as either of us wants it to last?’
What they had was sex, pure and simple. Although pure was not how she would have described the tumultuous passion that had blazed between them when he had made love to her after the party, Rebekah thought, blushing at the memory of how he had taken her to the pinnacle of pleasure with his hands and mouth and his powerful, muscular body. She sensed the inherent danger of an affair with Dante. The discovery that, beneath his playboy image, he was a man of complex emotions had left her feeling confused. Her brain told her to resist him but her heart was softening and her body was completely in his thrall, she thought ruefully as he claimed her mouth once more. Excitement shot through her when he closed his hand possessively around her breast and stroked her nipple through her thin cotton dress.
She was shaking, or was it him? She was unaware that he had undone the buttons at the front of her dress until he pushed the material aside and she felt him caress her naked flesh. It was too much, her desire for him was too overwhelming to be denied and she melted into his hard body and kissed him back with an eagerness that caused him to groan.
Suddenly the world tilted as he swept her up into his arms. ‘Put me down,’ she gasped, struggling against the temptation to rest her head on his shoulder. She loved being held in his arms, loved the feeling of being safe and cared for. But she was far from safe, she realised when she saw the sensual gleam in his eyes. ‘I’m too heavy. You’ll injure your back carrying me,’ she muttered as he strode through the quiet house and up the stairs with a purposeful intent that made her heart thud.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why do you have a problem with your body image?’ he demanded as he shouldered the door to his bedroom and set her down by the bed. ‘You have a gorgeous, voluptuous, sexy shape that I find such a turn-on.’
‘Do you?’ Rebekah murmured weakly, trying to dismiss the image of his whippet-thin ex-mistress Alicia Benson.
‘Believe me, cara, no other woman has ever made me feel so out of control,’ Dante admitted roughly. His hands shook as he peeled off her dress and cupped her breasts in his palms. He delighted in the weight of them and the creamy softness of her skin. His body tightened with anticipation as he bent his head to each of her nipples. The feel of them hardening beneath his tongue drove him to the edge and when she made a high, keening sound of need he quickly stripped off her panties, pulled off his own clothes and drew her down onto the bed.
Rebekah sensed Dante’s urgency, and shared it. His olive skin felt like satin beneath her fingertips and the faint abrasion of his chest hairs against her palms was innately sensual as she trailed a path over his flat stomach. He gave a low growl of encouragement when she curled her fingers around his erection. He was