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Still on another plane, Vitale blinked, dazed at what had just happened. Almost happened, he corrected mentally. Dio mio, they were lying in an orchard and there wasn’t even the remotest chance that he would have let matters proceed any further. She was like a stick of dynamite, he thought next, dark colour scoring his high cheekbones as he struggled to catch his breath and withstand the literal pain of his fully aroused body. A woman capable of making him behave like that in a public place ought to carry a government health warning. Overconfident, he had underestimated the extent of her pulling power, a mistake he would not repeat, he swore vehemently.
‘I’m sorry …’ Zara’s teeth almost chattered in the aftershock of having called a crushing halt to that runaway passion. ‘But someone might have come along,’ she completed lamely, wondering if she seemed dreadfully old-fashioned and a bit hysterical to a guy of his experience. After all he had only kissed her and touched her breast and she had thrown him off as if he had assaulted her.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ Vitale fielded, reaching for her hand, the nails of which were digging into the surface of the rug in a revealing show of discomfiture, and straightening her fingers in a calming gesture. ‘I didn’t think.’
It was an admission that very nearly choked Vitale Roccanti, who, with the patience and power of a Machiavelli, had planned and plotted his every move from the age of thirteen and never once failed to deliver on any count. Zara, however, was soothed by his apology and his grip on her hand. In her experience not all men were so generous in the aftermath of thwarted desire.
In seemingly silent mutual agreement they put away the picnic and folded the rug to start back to the car. She had barely seen the garden but it no longer had the power to dominate her thoughts. Her entire focus was now centred on Vitale. Was this what an infatuation felt like? Or was it something more? Was he a man she could fall in love with? How did she know? Was she crazy to wonder such a thing? Julian had been her first love but he had never had the power to make her feel the way Vitale did. Sadly she had been too young at eighteen to understand that there should be more said and more felt in a relationship with a future.
Just before she climbed back into the car, a gardener working at a border across the front lawn raised a hand to acknowledge Vitale. Of course, his uncle’s employees would know him. She watched him incline his head in acknowledgement. Her fingers had messed up his black hair and as he turned his handsome dark head, stunning golden eyes locking to her as if there were no other person in the world, she felt a fierce pride in his acknowledgement and refused to think beyond that.
As he drove her back to his house she was in a pensive mood and slightly dreamy from the heat, the wine and the passion.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he murmured.
‘I thought you would like that.’
In a graceful gesture he linked his fingers briefly with hers. ‘No. I miss the chatter, angelina mia.’
Zara thought crazily then that engagements could be broken and weddings could be cancelled. That possibility momentarily put paid to the guilt and assuaged her conscience. It had never been her intention to deceive either man but now it was too late to tell Vitale the truth, that she was supposed to be getting married. She shifted uncomfortably at the knowledge that an honest and decent woman would have spoken up much sooner and certainly before the first kiss. Now she could not bear the idea that Vitale might think badly of her and she hugged her secret to herself in silence.
Not surprisingly, with her unusually optimistic mood interspersed by anxious spasms of fear about the future controlling her, the journey back to the farmhouse seemed very short because she was so lost in her thoughts.
She wandered into the sunny hallway. ‘I didn’t even explore Edith’s garden properly,’ she remarked with regret.
‘Someday I’ll take you back to see it,’ Vitale promised and then he frowned.
‘I’m leaving in the morning,’ she reminded him helplessly.
His beautiful dark deep-set eyes lingered on her anxious face and he lifted a hand, brushing her delicate jawbone with his knuckle in an unexpected caress. ‘Let your hair down,’ he whispered.
The look of anticipation gleaming in his eyes made her heart race and the blood surge hotly through her body. ‘Why?’ she asked baldly.
‘I love your hair … the colour of it, the feel of it,’ he confessed huskily.
And like a woman in a dream, Zara lifted her hand and undid the clip. Vitale need no further invitation, angling his proud dark head down as he studied her and used his hands to deftly fluff her rumpled hair round her shoulders. ‘I even like the smell of it,’ he admitted, a bemused frown tugging at his ebony brows even as his nostrils flared in recognition at the vanilla scent of her.
He was gorgeous, Zara thought dizzily, the most gorgeous guy she had ever met and he seemed equally drawn to her. It was a heady thought, and not her style, but she was basking in the hot golden glow of his appreciative appraisal. It was the work of a moment to mentally douse the sparks of caution at the back of her mind and instead stretch up on tiptoe as if she were free as a bird to do whatever she liked and taste that remarkably beautiful mouth of his again. He lifted her up in his arms and began to carry her upstairs.
CHAPTER FOUR
ZARA surfaced from that kiss to discover that she was on a bed in an unfamiliar room.
It was a larger, more masculine version of her room with bedding the colour of parchment. Unfortunately the last time that Zara had been alone in a bedroom with a man she had been handcuffed half naked to a metal headboard and it was thanks to that terrifying experience that she remained a virgin at the age of twenty-two. Momentarily transfixed by that chilling recollection she turned pale as milk and studied Vitale, reminding herself that she had kissed him, and encouraged him entirely of her own free will. She was not under the influence of alcohol this time around either.
‘What’s wrong?’ His shirt already half unbuttoned to display a dark, hair-roughened wedge of muscular torso, Vitale regarded her with observant eyes, reading her tension and her pallor and wondering at her mood.
He was too clever by half to miss her nervous tension, Zara registered in dismay. A blush of discomfiture warmed her face as she struggled to suppress the apprehension that was a direct result of the betrayal she had suffered. Vitale wasn’t a blackmailer, she told herself urgently. He wasn’t going to whip out a camera either … at least she hoped not. He was a wealthy successful man in his own right with no need to target her as a potential source of profit.
‘It’s all right … it’s not you,’ she told him awkwardly. ‘I had a bad experience once …’
Vitale spread his hands in a fluid soothing movement. ‘If you want to change your mind I’ll understand.’
Her wide eyes prickled with tears at that considerate offer because she knew it could not have been easy for him to make. He was not selfishly putting his own needs first, he cared how she felt and that meant a great deal to Zara. After all, in spite of all his protestations Julian had never cared about her, he had only seen her as a means to an end, a convenient conduit to her father’s bank account. Her chin came up and she kicked off her shoes in a statement of intent. It was time she shook off the shadows cast over her life by Julian Hurst; it was time that she accepted that not every man was a user or an abuser.
‘I’m staying,’ Zara informed him unevenly, fighting her nerves with all her might. Twenty-two and a virgin—no, she absolutely was not going to share that embarrassing truth with him. She had read somewhere that men couldn’t tell the difference so he would never guess the level of her inexperience unless she made it obvious by parading her insecurity.
Vitale wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t regret sharing his bed but he was no hypocrite and he knew that she would. But what was another one-night stand to a woman with her level of experience? Unhappily for him, however, nothing seemed as cut and dried as it had before and he was suffering stabs of indecision directly in conflict with his usual rock-solid assurance and resolute focus. When and how had the business of avenging his sister contrived to become a guilty pleasure?
How could a little pixie-like blonde threaten to come between him and his wits? Vitale always knew what he was doing and controlled his own fate every step of the way. Time after time in his life he had made tough choices and he had never flinched from them. He might loathe the fact but he wanted Monty Blake’s daughter much more than he had ever dreamt possible. Even knowing that she was engaged to another man and a heartless little cheat didn’t kill his desire for her. Did it matter how he felt though? Surely all that mattered was that he took revenge for his sister’s pitiful death at the hands of a filthy coward? And the woman on his bed was the magic key to that much desired objective.
‘Take the shorts off,’ he urged huskily.
Tensing, Zara was very still for a moment before she scrambled off the bed. It was a modest request, she told herself. He hadn’t asked her to take off everything. But she was all fingers and thumbs as she undid the button at the waistband of her shorts and shook her slim hips clear of the garment, finally stepping out of them to reveal a pair of high cut blue satin knickers.
There was something wrong. What, Vitale didn’t know, but his instincts were good and he sensed it. Her face was pink, her eyes evasive below concealing lashes and her movements curiously stiff. This was not a woman confident in the bedroom and the suspicion sparked a sense of unease in him for once again she was defying the picture he had of her. Her lavender eyes met his with an unmistakeably anxious glint and her arms were crossed defensively. He recalled that bad experience she had mentioned and wondered just how bad it had been to leave a beautiful young woman so unsure of herself. Disconcerted by the train of his thoughts, Vitale reminded himself that he only wanted to spend the night with her, not step into her mind and psychoanalyse her. He never went deep in relationships, never got involved. He liked his affairs light and easy, with sex the main event and no bitter aftertaste. What was it about her that continually off-balanced him?
Zara had always worried about displaying her body to a man. Unforgettably Julian had laughed at her very slight curves, remarking that she might as well have been a boy as she would never make a centrefold. She had once considered getting a breast enlargement but had feared that with so slim a body she might end up looking top heavy and unnatural. Now all of a sudden she wanted to be perfect—she wanted to be perfect purely for Vitale.
‘What is it?’ he prompted, crossing the floor to grip her taut shoulders.
‘I’m feeling horribly shy,’ she told him in a rush.
He lifted her off her feet and set her on the side of the bed and then he kissed her, knotting one hand into the soft silky fall of her hair to hold her steady. It was a hungry, demanding kiss, his tongue flicking against the sensitive roof of her mouth to fire a response that raced through her like an explosive depth charge. She forgot who she was, she forgot who he was, she even contrived to forget that she was a virgin. Her palms skated up over the hard muscular wall of his powerful chest and with a groan deep in his throat he caught her hand and, in a stark expression of need, brought it down to the thrust of his erection beneath his trousers.
Pleased to recognise that he wanted her that much, Zara stroked him and struggled to run down his zip. Her slim fingers skimmed beneath the fabric to find the long, thick evidence of his arousal. He pushed against her hand, hard, eager, and hungry for her touch and it fired her up, finally convincing her that in spite of her inexperience she was sexy enough to turn him on hard.
Vitale yanked off her T-shirt with impatient hands and kissed her again while pushing her back across the bed. His urgency, as he dispensed with his trousers while exchanging hard, driving kisses that stoked her hunger higher and higher, was undeniable. He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough. Zara knew exactly what she wanted for all her lack of experience. She wanted him on top of her, she craved his weight, but instead he found the petal-soft pink tips of her small breasts and used his mouth on those delectable buds with a skill that wrung a gasp from her parted lips.
‘You’re very sensitive there, gioia mia,’ Vitale breathed thickly, raking her dainty breasts with eager, admiring eyes.
No longer concerned about the size of her attributes, Zara trembled, insanely conscious of the wet heat building at the heart of her, but for an instant, when he skimmed off his boxers and she saw the powerful upstanding proof of his excitement, her nerves almost betrayed her. Her body craved him but she was afraid it might hurt. Irritated with herself, she suppressed that fear and then all such thoughts fled her mind as he explored her most private place that she was tempted to hide from him. But the desire was too strong, the sensation he gave her too intense to be denied by modesty.
He lay on the bed teasing at her lower lip with tiny little bites that only inflamed her more while he touched her most tender flesh with a skill that made her back arch and her hips lift off the mattress. He eased a finger inside her and groaned against her swollen mouth.
‘You’re so tight, so wet …’
Her face burned and an ache bloomed between her thighs, an unbearable yearning for much more. With his thumb he found her clitoris and all thought and awareness fell away, reducing her to a much more elemental level. She pushed up to him and kissed him wildly for herself, shivering when the straining buds of her nipples grazed his warm hard chest.
All masculine dominance, Vitale leant over her, dark golden eyes ablaze with desire as he kissed her long and hard. ‘I want you so much I’m burning …’
‘So what are you waiting for?’ Zara urged breathlessly, because he had brought her to an edge of anticipation that was intolerable and without her volition her hips were shifting up to him in tiny needy movements.
He tore the foil off a condom and eased it on while she watched, madly curious about what she had never known but rather apprehensive as well, although she was striving to suppress that feeling. He would fit, of course he would. Nature had designed men and women to fit. He leant over her, strong and sure, and she felt the head of him against her slick, damp entrance. Her body trembled with expectation when he plunged into her.
It hurt and a moan of protest escaped Zara. When he froze, staring down at her, his eyes full of enquiry and confusion, she was mortified.
‘Zara?’ he began, ‘I hurt you. I’m sorry—’
‘I don’t want to discuss it,’ Zara told him hurriedly. She could feel the tension draining away, the pain already receding, and suspected she had made a lot of noise about nothing. ‘You can continue …’
It was that prim little command now, in the most inappropriate of circumstances, that nearly sent Vitale into a fit of laughter. With difficulty he restrained his amusement, for her lovely face was a picture of disquiet and embarrassment. ‘But I hurt you—’
‘Some things are just too private to talk about,’ Zara assured him.
‘You really want me to continue?’ Vitale queried in a strained undertone, wondering why no other woman had ever made him want to laugh as she did.
‘You might as well now,’ Zara pointed out prosaically, abandoning all hope of receiving much enjoyment from the act now.
Just as she thought that, Vitale sank into her up to the hilt and an erotic thrill sizzled through her like the touch of a firebrand on naked skin. As he began to move she struggled to swallow back a gasp of surprise. She felt truly extraordinary, as if her body were directly attuned to his. A sweet torment of pleasure built as he withdrew and then thrust deep again, jolting a low cry from her. She no longer had the ability to rein back her response. Intense, all-consuming pleasure gripped her and she panted for breath, her urgency rising in exact proportion to her need. Her excitement climbed higher and higher, spiralling through her like a bright light fighting to escape. Then, just when she thought she couldn’t bear it any more, she reached a peak and fell apart in an exquisite agony of sensation, eyes opening, lips parting in wonderment as he shuddered over her in the throes of his own climax.
Eyes brilliant with gratification, Vitale claimed her mouth one more time. ‘Ebbene … now then, you amazing woman,’ he growled hoarsely. ‘That was a worthy continuance.’
Feeling wonderfully at peace, Zara pressed her lips gently against his satin-smooth shoulder. He lifted her wrist and let his tongue glide along the pulse there, making her quiver helplessly. She glanced up at him from below her lashes, recognising that this was a guy who knew every button to push. He kicked back the sheet and got up to stride into the bathroom, and she turned over onto her side, still stunned by the power of what she had experienced in his arms.
The aftermath of that wondrous pleasure was still engulfing her. Great sex, she labelled dizzily, but she wanted more and was already wondering if Vitale planned to continue what they had begun. Or was she just a little weekend distraction? That humiliating possibility had to be considered. After all, theirs had been a chance attraction, rather than a more conventional one. Ironically she had sacrificed so much more to be with him, she recognised ruefully. There was no question of her marrying Sergios Demonides now. Furthermore she could barely believe that she had been so blind to the risk of temptation when she agreed to marry a man she neither loved nor cared for simply to please her parents. How immature and foolish was that? Oh, how much easier life would have been now had she paid more heed to Bee’s warnings and told Sergios that she was very sorry but she had changed her mind!
Well, she supposed wryly, a change of heart weeks before the wedding invitations even went out was better than a marriage that failed. No doubt Sergios would be annoyed with her for wasting his time. She had wasted everyone’s time and no doubt the cancellation of all the wedding arrangements would cost her parents a great deal of money. She had been very foolish and shortsighted about her own needs. But what was done was done and now everything had changed. There was no going back to the mindset she had cherished before she came to Italy and met Vitale Roccanti. He had blown everything she thought she knew about herself to smithereens. She wanted more from a marriage than Sergios could ever have given her.
‘Join me in the shower,’ Vitale husked from the doorway.
She slid out of the bed as though he had pulled an invisible piece of elastic that had her attached to one end. Being naked without even the coverage of a sheet or his body was a challenge for her, but already the demeaning memories of what Julian had done to her were being replaced by more positive ones. What went without saying was that she wanted to be with Vitale and felt as though she had waited all her life to feel as strongly about a man as she felt about him. Moreover she was overpoweringly conscious that she was flying back to London in the morning and that then the ball would be in his court as to what—if anything—happened next. There was no way she would chase after him—she had way too much pride for that.
Having finally shed his shirt, Vitale caught her up in the doorway and lifted her high against his lean bronzed body. ‘I could easily become accustomed to a woman your size, gioia mia. You’re so easy to move around!’
A smile as bright as a solar flare lit across her face and all thoughts of the future fled to the back of her mind. Right now she would live for the moment. Why not? She was young, she was, if not technically free, morally free in her own mind to enjoy herself. The only cloud on the horizon was the fact she dared not be honest with Vitale for fear of how her explanation about Sergios might alter and indeed destroy his good impression of her.
The shower was already running and Zara gasped as the cascade of water hit her, then Vitale kissed her and nothing else mattered but the need to get as close to him as possible. He sank his hands below her bottom and hoisted her high so that she could wrap her arms round his neck and kiss him back with passionate fervour. As her fingers moved across his strong back she felt the surprising roughness of his skin there and wondered if he had been in an accident, for she was sure what she was feeling was some sort of scarring. But her curiosity was soon overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth on hers. Just as quickly she discovered that she wanted him again for her nipples instantly pinched into prominent aching beads and the slick heat pooled between her legs again.
‘You are so hot you burn me,’ Vitale rasped, lowering her back onto the tiles again, his strong erection brushing her stomach.
Shower gel foamed between his hands and he transferred it to her sensitised skin. His expert fingers glided over the pouting mounds of her breasts, lingered over her straining nipples, toying with them before slowly delving lower to graze the most tender bud of all in the most indescribably arousing way. Trembling, she leant against him for support, making no attempt to pretend that she was still in control, surrendering entirely to the tingling, taunting need pulsing through her. With a hungry groan, Vitale hoisted her up against him again and swung round to brace her spine against the tiled wall.
‘I can’t wait,’ he breathed, spreading her thighs and bringing her down on him so that her lush opening sheathed his shaft in a single stunning move.
Hands anchored to her hips, he drove deeper into her and then lifted her to withdraw again before thrusting back into her quivering body again. It was incredibly exciting. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, she just hung onto his broad shoulders for what felt like a wildly exciting roller-coaster ride. At some stage he lifted her out of the shower and laid her down on the floor so that he could continue to pleasure her there with tireless vigour. She writhed in a frenzy of abandon and hit another breathtaking climax that sent her spinning off into the stars.
‘Wow …’ she whispered weakly in the aftermath, belatedly aware of how hard the floor was below her and how heavy he was.
‘That wasn’t very well planned,’ Vitale breathed abruptly, freeing her from his weight and pulling her up with him.
‘Planned?’ In a sensual daze, Zara blinked and reached for one of the towels on the rail. ‘How … planned?’
‘I forgot to use a condom. Do you take contraceptive pills?’
Zara froze and looked up at him. His devastatingly handsome face was suddenly very serious. ‘No,’ she said, the size of the risk they’d just taken slowly dawning on her. ‘And I’m about halfway through my cycle.’
‘I’ll be more careful from now on … I promise,’ Vitale asserted, running a fingertip caressingly below her sultry lower lip, swollen from his kisses. ‘But I do find you incredibly tempting. You make me dangerously impulsive.’
Meeting the urgent appeal in those stunning golden eyes, Zara could barely put one foot in front of another, never mind think logical thoughts. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine,’ she muttered, suppressing her concern that she might fall pregnant and thinking that if she took after her mother, who, in spite of her longing for more children, had only ever conceived once in her entire life, she probably had nothing to worry about.
As he turned away to reach for a towel she saw his back and her shocked breath caught in her throat. Line after line of raised scars like welts criss-crossed his long, muscular back and there were little round darker marks as well across his shoulders and spine. ‘What on earth happened to your back?’ she asked abruptly.