Claimed by the Sicilian: Sicilian Husband, Blackmailed Bride / The Sicilian's Red-Hot Revenge / The Sicilian's Wife
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It was only later that he had realised how much she regretted what she had done, when a better opportunity—a more aristocratic suitor—a wealthier suitor, she believed—had come along.
‘This is a designer original—it cost a small fortune. I would never have been able to afford it by myself, of course. But Rafe offered to pay for it…’
‘He did what?’
It was the last thing Guido wanted to hear. He detested the idea of anything that man had provided touching her. The thought of Rafe St Clair sent his blood pressure spiking, made him feel nauseous with fury. Though that was nothing to the way he had felt when he had first learned just whom St Clair planned to marry.
But then, why was he surprised? Hadn’t she left him for just that sort of reason? Because she wanted the sort of man who could provide her with designer originals? He had never been more thankful that he hadn’t told her the full truth about himself. If he had, then she might have stayed with him for all the wrong reasons.
‘Take it off!’
‘What?’ Her eyes widened in shock.
‘Take that dress off.’
‘With you standing there?’ Amber shook her head sharply. ‘No way! At least have the decency to leave the room.’
If he went out that door, he wouldn’t stop until he found St Clair and ripped his head from his shoulders, the way he was feeling right now. Fighting the urge to do just that, Guido flung himself down in the chair that stood in the wide bay window.
‘I’m your husband and there’s nothing I haven’t seen. Take it off, Amber, or I’ll tear it off you myself.’
The look she flung him was one of total loathing but he let it bounce off the shield of restraint he had put up around himself. Whether Amber liked it or not, staying was definitely the safer option.
Or was it?
With another blazing, fulminating glare in his direction, Amber got to her feet and deliberately turned her back on him. Once again he was presented with the view of her he had seen as he entered the church. And once again he knew the twisting, primitive hunger low down in his gut.
It was worse this time. Worse in so many ways.
Then he had only seen her back view, in the white silk dress, with the long lace veil falling down from the crown of her head. He hadn’t seen her, hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t touched her for months. But the long-ago memories had been bad enough.
Now he had newer memories to add to those long-ago ones. Now he was tormented by the recollection of how it had felt to hold her in his arms, to know the soft, warm pressure of her slender frame up against his; how it had felt to kiss her. If he slicked his tongue over his lips he could still taste the sweetness of her there. The scent of her perfume was still in his nostrils.
And the claw of lust was harder than ever before.
‘Want any help?’ Guido offered.
‘No!’
Did she know what she was doing to him with those small, sensual, wriggling movements? Rationally, he knew they were designed to enable her to reach the handle of the long zip at the back of the dress, ease it down. But the effect they were having on him was very, very far from rational.
She’d got the damned zip down partway now. Far enough down to reveal the bones and lace of some corset type of underwear. Underwear that exposed the delicate pink of her skin above and that skimmed downwards towards the narrow line of her waist, the sensual swell of her hips. And still she kept up those little movements, twisting, arching her back as she struggled to reach the bit right in the middle of her back.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. You come near me and I’ll—Ouch!’
It was a sharp, instinctive cry of pain and it had him out of his chair in a second, taking a step forward hastily and then freezing sharply, trying to assess the situation; see what had happened.
Amber too had stilled, one hand halfway up her back from below, the other reaching from her shoulder, both of them straining for and not quite reaching the small white handle of the fine zip fastener. Her head was also pulled slightly back, held at an unnatural angle.
‘The veil has caught in the zip. That’s why it won’t move down.’
‘I know!’ It was a sound of frustrated exasperation, hissed out from between gritted teeth. ‘But I can manage.’
‘Of course you can.’ He deliberately laced the words with sarcasm.
‘I can—I just need to…Ouch!’
And then it came, muffled, uneven, and very low.
‘Guido…please…’
He was at her side in a moment, bending to the spot where the delicate lace of her veil had snagged in the runners of the zip fastening. He could see now why she had been exclaiming in pain. Not only had the veil caught, but it was pulled tight, dragging her head back, tugging against the ornate hairstyle, the fine tiara too, in a way that must have been desperately uncomfortable. And each time she moved she only entangled herself further, adding to her discomfort.
‘Hold still.’
The best thing to do was to remove the tiara and the veil. With them loose…
His fingers were busy as his thoughts, reaching for and pulling out the hundreds of pins, or so it seemed, that held the headdress in place. Soft tendrils of hair fell about his hands as he worked. They stroked his face in silken caresses, soft as the touch of her hands. The heated scent of her body rose up to surround him, tugging on his senses, making him even harder than before so that he swore softly and savagely in his own language.
‘What?’
Amber heard him mutter but the sound was muffled by the way he had his head bent, his attention apparently focused on disentangling her from the veil and the headdress.
‘What did you say?’
No answer. He really was concentrating on what he was doing. And for that she should be grateful.
If he was absorbed in extricating her from the tangled veil and headdress, then he wouldn’t notice the way her colour came and went as heat suffused her body and then fled from it, leaving her cold and shivery as if she was in the grip of a fever. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure he must hear it, even through the boned and stiffened basque she wore underneath the silk dress. Her breath was ragged and uneven, and her head swam so that she swayed uncertainly on her feet, her eyes staring, unfocused, at the opposite wall.
His touch on her hair was soft but sure; it felt like a caress even though she knew that was not what he meant it to be.
Admit it! she reproached herself. Admit that you want it to be a caress. That you have wanted him to touch you—to caress you—ever since that kiss in the church.
That kiss.
Her skin flamed, her senses yearning, just to remember it. It was as if that kiss had swept away all the intervening days and months since she had walked out on Guido and their marriage. She had spent a long year trying to get over him and it had taken just one touch, one kiss and she was right back where she had started. Back in the yearning hunger, the demanding passion that his touch sparked in every nerve in her body. Back in the throes of the powerful sexual need that this man—and only this man—could awaken in her.
She’d grabbed back the vulnerable heart she’d given him, and guarded it from him ever since she had discovered his duplicity and his callousness, but the truth was that she was only safe from her sexual enslavement to Guido Corsentino while he was thousands of miles away, safely out of her life.
He had merely to walk back into her world and she was lost again. Adrift on a heated sea of longing and need without a compass or any sort of guiding star. The only recognisable landmark on her horizon was Guido himself. And, like the compass needle that was always pulled to the north, she was drawn to him whether she wanted to be or not.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘STAY still, cara,’ Guido advised as the shocking realisation made her jump nervously, wanting to jerk away from his touch and yet longing to stay right where she was. ‘Almost done…There.’
The release of the pull on her scalp told Amber that the veil was free, the headdress off and she sighed in relief as she felt it fall to the floor. But the next moment the sense of tension was back again, but in a very different way. This time it was screaming through every nerve of her body as Guido straightened up and, instead of moving away, took a step closer.
He was still behind her and she could feel the heat from his body reaching out to her, surrounding her. Where the back of her dress hung open, revealing her shoulders, her spine, she could feel tiny prickles of awareness start to shiver over her skin in anticipation of a touch she yearned for so much that she could almost will herself to feel it.
‘Thank you,’ she managed, her voice croaking.
‘É niente…’
It was so soft it was just a breath, a warm breath that feathered along every nerve, whispered over the exposed flesh of her back. She felt her throat close, her mouth dry. She couldn’t have moved if she tried. But she didn’t want to try.
Touch me! her mind screamed silently. Please, please, touch me!
She had stopped breathing. Stopped thinking…
And then she felt it.
Felt the touch, the lightest, softest, warmest touch of fingertips brushing her skin. Felt the feather-light movement of a caress that traced the line of her spine, from the nape of her neck, down to where her skin disappeared under the white lace edge of the basque.
Down. Softly, slowly…
And then it stopped. Lingered with just the pressure of a single finger on her skin.
‘Shall I help you with the rest?’ Guido said and she knew that he was not just asking about easing the zip all the way down.
‘Please…’
Oh, please…
His touch was so light that she barely felt the zip move down, only knew that it had by the loosening of the bodice of her dress, the way that it slid off her shoulders, slipped halfway down her arms. In the front, it gaped over her breasts, the neckline dipping lower and lower, but she couldn’t even find the strength to raise a hand to support it, to hold it concealingly to her.
Behind her she heard Guido sigh, then his hands closed over her hips, holding her firmly. Her skin prickled with awareness as she felt him come closer, closer…
The touch of his mouth on her skin was like a lightning bolt through her, making her breath hiss from her lungs, her eyes close. In the darkness, that tiny, heated point of contact burned like a searing brand against her skin, for all it was so soft and gentle.
‘Bellissima…’ Guido murmured against her spine, kissing his way down each vertebra, tracing the path his fingers had followed earlier. ‘Amata…’
Amber felt as if she was melting. As if every part of her was being flooded by the heated honey sensation between her legs, reaching out to set the rest of her body on fire.
‘Guido…’
She didn’t know if she actually spoke his name aloud or if it was just part of the litany of need inside her head. Every part of her was focused on the spot where his mouth wreaked a devastating magic on her skin.
‘Amber…’
She had forgotten the way he spoke her name when in the heat of passion. Forgotten the way that the syllables were long-drawn-out, the way that the final R was rolled until the sound became just a tiger’s purr.
Amberrrrr…
‘Amber, tesora—turn round. Turn to me—let me see your face.’
She had no power to resist the murmured enticement, had no will but to do as he said. Why not, when it was what she most wanted in the entire world too?
And so she turned, slowly, sensuously, feeling his gaze on her as she moved. And when she finally came full circle, when she was facing him, still within the confines of his arms, she saw the fierce burn of need that glittered in the darkness of his eyes.
‘The dress…’ he said harshly, the rawness of his voice scraping over highly sensitised nerves.
He didn’t complete the sentence, but Amber needed nothing more. Slowly uncurling her fingers from their hold on the white silk, she let it fall, softly slithering its way down her body to land in a glistening pool around her feet. Without its covering, she stood, proudly exposed in just the white basque and a sliver of lace beneath that, covering the chestnut curls between her thighs. The finest, most delicate whispers of stockings were supported by a matching suspender belt.
‘Cara…’
It was just a whisper of sound and Guido closed his eyes briefly. Just for a moment. But it was quite long enough for Amber to lose her mind completely. Lose her mind, lose her restraint, lose any last remaining shreds of common sense and self-preservation. She didn’t know what drove her, didn’t understand what pushed her forward, only knew that it was an impulse, a need she couldn’t resist.
She was hungry, yearning and empty inside, aching with a need that his touch had awoken, his kisses had brought spiralling to the surface. She had felt his mouth on her skin, his touch on her body. Now she needed, so desperately, to kiss and touch and taste and feel for herself.
Needed to kiss and touch and taste and feel the essence that was purely Guido.
Before her brain had even registered the thought, she had taken the couple of steps forward that brought her up close to him. Her breathing fast and shallow, her mind spinning, she lifted her head, pressed her mouth to the hard plane of his cheek, feeling the raw scrape of stubble against the sensitive flesh of her lips.
He smelled wonderful; he tasted even better. She let her tongue slip out; let it touch against his skin. Tasted the slightly salt flavour of him.
And saw his eyes fly open, look down into hers.
If she had thought that they seemed to have been turned black by desire before, now they were even deeper and darker than ever. But they gleamed like burnished metal, burning into hers with hungry fire.
Just for a moment that hunger startled her, made a quiver of something that was close to fear run through her. Never before, even when they were married, had he shown so openly, so shockingly, the searing passion he felt for her. It terrified her in the same moment that it excited her, so that she made to take a step back…
And stopped dead as his arm came out, fastening around her neck, pulling her closer. His mouth came down on hers, crushing it, taking it, making her his again.
That was the only thought that went through her head before her mind stopped functioning and sensation took over. I’m his and only his. I don’t want anyone else. Don’t want to be with anyone else. This is what I want—this is what I need.
This is what I am.
But the next kiss drove any rational thought from her head. The fierce, sizzling strength of it took her mind and shattered it, left her only able to function on the most basic, most primitive level. The level of pure physical need and nothing more.
Her mouth opened under his, allowing the silken heat of his tongue to invade and plunder, taking, tasting, teasing, tantalising. And she went right with it. Giving back everything she could in return, matching need for need, hunger for hunger.
She barely noticed when Guido snatched her up. Wasn’t aware of the way that he shrugged off his jacket as he carried her towards the bed. Her arms were clasped tight around his neck, her mouth locked with his as they fell together onto the goldcoloured covers, her shoes tumbling to the floor as they did so.
‘It’s been too long…too long…way too long…’ Guido muttered as he kissed his way along her jawline, over her cheek, back to her mouth.
He didn’t stop to ask if it was what she wanted too. Didn’t need to. They both knew the question had been asked, the answer given in that first moment when she’d turned to him. And again when she had let the dress drop. And when she had stepped into his space, kissed him on the cheek. From that point on there had been no going back and both of them knew it.
‘I have waited too long…’
‘Mmm…’
It was all that Amber could manage, the unformed sound catching in her throat as he came down on top of her, his mouth taking hers again, hands roaming over her body, seeking, stroking, finding pleasure spots she had forgotten existed, ones she could have sworn that even she hadn’t known about before. Excitement rushed through her, fizzing, burning, stinging like an electric current, making her tug hard at his shirt, wrench the buttons from their fastenings.
‘I’m wearing too many clothes…’ It was a moan of complaint, of protest, and she felt rather than heard the dark laughter that shook his long body.
‘Too many clothes, perhaps,’ he told her huskily, ‘but then again, I think I like it. I like this amazing contraption you’re wearing—love the way it pushes your breasts out—everything on display for my eyes…’
They burned into her skin, his gaze almost a physical touch in itself.
‘My hands…’
Hot fingers stroked the exposed pale flesh of her breasts, curving over them, cupping them above and then below, lifting them even higher.
‘And my mouth…’
Suiting action to the words, he bent to the soft skin, letting first his lips, then his tongue slide over her quivering breasts, finally letting his teeth graze the delicate curves, making her moan aloud in excitement.
His hands were at her sides, moving over the boned bodice, shaping the narrow curve of her waist. Then up again, his touch growing heavier, more urgent, hard fingers slipping into the lacy cups, finding her swollen nipples, rolling them between a forefinger and thumb.
‘Guido…!’
His name was a gasp of shock, a sound of delight, a moan of encouragement all in one. ‘You like that, mia bellezza?’
Guido punctuated the words with hot kisses over the curve of one breast and then the other, then back again.
‘You want more?’
‘Oh, yes…yes…I want…I want you.’
‘Soon, carissima, soon.’
Another kiss took her yearning mouth, giving her something of what she needed and yet promising so much more that it fed her hunger even as it appeased it.
‘First…’
Hooking his thumbs over the lacy edge of the white silk basque, he pulled it down, exposing her breasts to his arousing touch and his even more exciting mouth. Moaning aloud again, Amber moved her head restlessly on the fine cotton of the pillows, arching her back, pressing herself against his mouth so that the sensations were increased, making her head spin with pleasure.
But she didn’t just want to feel. She wanted to touch, to match him caress for caress. She wanted to know the heat and softness of his skin, to have the power of his muscles, the hardness of bone under her fingertips.
‘Too many clothes…’ she muttered again complainingly, her hand clutching at his shirt, tugging, twisting, trying to wrench it from him.
‘Impaziente…’ Guido muttered, laughter once again threading through his voice.
But he helped her out, shrugging off the loosened shirt, and somehow still managing to concentrate his attention on the tightened, aching breasts he had exposed. The feel of his hot skin, the bunched muscles, made Amber sigh with delight and she let her hands roam where they could. Under her caresses, Guido’s spine arched, burning eyes closed.
‘Talking of too many clothes…these have to go.’
Through the heated delirium that filled her head, Amber barely noticed the feel of his strong fingers closing over the fine lace that was her only covering at the most intimate spot between her thighs. There was a swift, hard tug, the sound of material ripping and her eyes opened wide in shock at the realisation of what had happened.
‘Guido…’
But Guido showed no sign of any sense of guilt, or even concern as he smiled down into her stunned face and kissed the stunned protest from her lips as he tossed the tattered remnants of her knickers carelessly to one side.
‘I’ll buy you a dozen more—a hundred…’ he promised against her mouth. ‘Besides, they were in my way.’
To prove his point, he trailed his knowing hand down her body, following the lines of one of the boned strips that stiffened the corset to the point where it ended just on her waist. From there he let it wander even lower, tracing a path of fire through the curls that hid her femininity, slipping between her thighs, easing them apart. With practised ease he found the tiny, swollen spot that was burning with a hungry need for just this moment and stroked a soft caress over its throbbing tip.
With her body already ablaze with longing as a result of his enticing attentions elsewhere, that single touch was enough to have Amber convulsing underneath him, crying out his name in the heat of her need.
‘Guido—Guido—please…’
Her vision was hazed with passion but she caught the quick flashing smile that showed his delight at her response, the triumph he didn’t try to hide.
‘I knew it would be this way…Knew how it would be between us…’
Knew…
Just for a second, his muttered satisfaction stilled Amber, as a cold shaft of something uncomfortable and disturbing almost but not quite reached through to Amber’s rational mind. But just as a flicker of awareness of something she wanted to resist, to armour herself against, threatened to pierce the heated haze of delight, Guido stroked her again, his touch knowing, tormenting, even more arousing than before. Instantly, the flames of passion swept over her, taking with her that momentary doubt as she clung to him, melting into him, not knowing where she ended and he began.
Long, powerful legs edged between her own, easing them apart. She felt the strength of muscle even through the delicate covering of the stockings she still wore, the fine material of his trousers. She heard her blood thunder in her veins as the heated hardness of him nudged against the sensitised core of her body.
‘You’re mine,’ he whispered in her ear, rough and thick and disturbingly raw. ‘Mine. You always have been and you always will. This is how it was in the past, how it is and how it will be in the future. Si? Si?’
‘Yes…’
It was all that Amber could manage. All she could force from her, dry mouth, her parched throat. The heat of her need seemed to be burning her up, shrivelling her brain in its fire.
‘Oh, yes…’
She didn’t want to think—didn’t want him to wait. Even the seconds of hesitation that he kept her waiting ticked in an agony of frustration. Impatiently she moved, shifting underneath him, bringing her hips up slightly, opening herself to him even more.
‘Ah, yes, belleza…’
Firm hands clamped on her hips, hard fingers digging into the swell of her buttocks. In one smooth, powerful movement, he raised her slightly, positioned himself in just the right spot and thrust, hard and long, deep, deep inside her.
‘Gui—’ Amber began but he caught her cry in his own mouth as he sealed her lips with his. And kept them closed while his powerful body worked its primitive magic on hers.
At first his movements were in total control, each hard, fierce movement, each thrust inwards taking her close—so close—to the wild peak of fulfilment but then slowly, agonisingly, letting her down again, holding her, tantalising her…before he moved again. And each time Amber had to bite down hard on her lower lip as frustration stung at her, the sensation of being so near and yet so far an agony of disappointment at the same time as it seared a further brand of delight on her already shuddering body.
But then, in the space of a heartbeat, it seemed, even his iron control snapped. The slow, deliberate rhythm fractured, became harder, faster, fiercer. The primitive power of passion overtook him, shattering his command of his senses, of his body, and with a harsh, wild cry of abandonment he gave in to the force of need that took them both out of the world they knew and into a space of light and heat and pure, uncontrollable sensation.