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Nevertheless, she wished she’d taken time to hunt out a pair of heels so she didn’t have to tilt her chin to look at him.
‘Ella, you’re looking particularly vibrant today.’
‘Vibrant?’ She shook her head. ‘The word is angry.’
‘It suits you.’ His smile didn’t falter. If anything he looked satisfied. But despite the smile there was something guarded about his expression. His eyes held secrets.
Not surprising, given the games he played. She’d give an awful lot to know what they were.
What made him tick? What was he after? For the life of her she couldn’t believe a man like Donato Salazar really wanted to marry one of Reg Sanderson’s daughters. Especially her, the prosaic, sensible, not-a-glamorous-bone-in-her-body one.
She stiffened. This wasn’t about her. It was about saving Fuzz and Rob.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Of course. Come through.’ He stepped back and gestured for her to enter.
She strode past him into a wide circular foyer. Her staccato steps petered out as her gaze caught on the perfect curving lines of the staircase to the upper floor. Delicate wrought iron formed a balustrade featuring wood nymphs and fauns dancing up the steps. Pure art deco whimsy.
Ella took a step closer, entranced despite her fury.
Then from behind came the thud of the heavy front doors closing her in. The hairs on her nape stood up and a frisson of anxiety resonated through her.
Ridiculous. She was here because she needed to have this out with him, face to face.
‘This way.’ Donato was beside her, leading the way towards a sitting room that featured views across a terrace and in-ground pool to the Pacific Ocean beyond.
Ella didn’t budge. ‘This won’t take long.’ She planted her feet.
He swung around, eyebrows silently rising. ‘You look very combative.’
‘You’re not surprised.’
He shrugged and walked back to where she stood in the centre of the circular foyer. ‘I know you’re a volatile woman.’
Ella snorted. Volatile? She was the stable one of the family. The one who never had tantrums. The one who quietly got on with whatever needed to be done. Before she left home it had been she, not her father or older sister, who made sure the housekeeper and gardener received their instructions and their pay.
‘I’m not volatile. I’m justifiably annoyed. There’s a difference.’ She breathed deep, feeling indignation well. ‘Or will you decide my reaction is due to the fact I’m female?’ That had always been one of her father’s favourite put-downs.
Donato raised his hands as if in surrender. Yet the spark in those dark blue eyes told her he was enjoying himself too much to give in.
‘I’m a lot of things, Ella. But not sexist.’
He was far closer than she liked. Too close. Her stomach gave a betraying wobble.
She swallowed hard as the aroma of rich coffee and warm male skin enveloped her. It was as if her body was absorbed in a different conversation than the one coming out of her mouth. A conversation that was about heat and desire and that phantom ache down deep in her womb.
She didn’t know how to combat it. Creating distance between them was the obvious option but she wouldn’t let him see even a hint of fear. She’d learned young that revealing weakness only made things worse.
‘I want to know what’s going on.’
‘Well, since you opted to come here rather than to Bennelong Point, I’ve arranged for us to share lunch on the terrace.’
Had she ever met anyone so coolly sure of himself? So infuriating? He cast even her father into the shade with his supreme self-confidence.
Yet, despite her annoyance, Ella didn’t get the same feeling from Donato as she did from her father, who so blatantly exulted in triumphing over others. Donato was manipulating her yet she didn’t feel bullied. More...challenged.
Which showed how dangerous was this undercurrent of attraction humming in her veins. It tempted her to put a pretty gloss on Donato’s outrageous demands.
Ella crossed her arms, glaring. ‘I didn’t come here for lunch.’
‘You need to look after yourself. You didn’t stop for breakfast, did you?’ Donato took a step closer and suddenly the spacious two-storey room shrank around them. Ella breathed deeper, needing oxygen. ‘You were still in bed when I rang.’ The glint in his dark eyes reminded her of his teasing as she lay naked in bed, and heat drilled down through her belly.
Ella stiffened, ignoring the telltale flush rising in her throat and cheeks.
‘I want the truth. You don’t need to marry Reg Sanderson’s daughter. The idea of marriage to cement closer business ties doesn’t wash. You’re the one my father needs, not the other way around. Why are you playing along with the idea?’
For a millisecond Donato’s eyes widened, giving her a glimpse of surprise in a flash of indigo that rivalled the ocean’s brilliance. Then his eyelids lowered and his gaze became unreadable.
Ella’s breathing quickened. There was something there. Something she’d said, something he didn’t expect her to know. But what? She racked her brain but she’d only stated the obvious. She could find no significance there.
Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d inadvertently hit on something important.
‘Things aren’t always as clear-cut as they seem.’ Donato paused. ‘Your father’s proposal has definite advantages.’
Ella jammed her hands on her hips. ‘What advantages? Name one.’
In answer Donato’s eyes skated down, past the warm blush in her throat, over her loose-fitting top, lightweight trousers and flat sandals.
She’d dressed for comfort rather than sophistication. Her floaty aqua and silver top was a favourite. Now, under Donato’s trawling stare, Ella had a qualm that it had somehow suddenly become transparent. Surely his gaze grazed her skin, following every curve the material should have hidden. As if he already knew her intimately.
Already. The word was a promise she couldn’t dislodge from her brain.
Ella’s body came alive, just as it had last night. She’d told herself that had been an illusion created by tiredness and stress. But she didn’t feel tired now. She felt wired, waves of energy ripping through her, awakening every nerve ending.
She jutted her jaw. ‘You don’t have to marry me to get sex.’
‘Why, Ella—’ his eyes gleamed with a banked heat and his mouth curved in a slow smile that turned her insides to mush ‘—that’s quite an offer. I’m charmed and delighted.’
For one insane moment she almost smiled back, till her brain processed his words.
‘I’m offering nothing.’ Her head snapped back, her pulse thrumming at the look in his eyes. ‘I’m just stating the obvious. Even if you wanted to go to bed with me, marriage isn’t necessary.’ Unfortunately her explanation came out in an unsteady rush as he leaned closer.
‘Such a tempting idea,’ he murmured. ‘I’m glad you suggested it.’
‘Stop it, Donato. You know I’m not suggesting anything.’ But now she couldn’t banish the idea of them, together.
‘You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?’ His voice dropped an octave to a warm rumble she felt deep inside. ‘I am too, Ella. I find the idea intoxicating.’
He lifted his hand to cup her cheek and sensation juddered through her. Ella shot back a step, her breath snagging. Instead of releasing her, Donato followed, his broad callused palm hot on her skin.
She felt crowded, surrounded.
Excited.
Silence thickened. The saw of her breathing seemed loud, as did the quickened patter of her pulse. But it was the sensations detonating through her body that panicked Ella.
Donato had sabotaged all her erogenous zones, attuning them to his touch. Her lips tingled as his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her nipples budded against the sensible bra she wore, as if mocking her determination not to dress up for Donato. Her silky top stirred as she hauled in deeper breaths, the touch of fabric a barely there caress. And between her legs...
Ella swallowed hard, drowning in the slumberous heat of those searing eyes.
‘Let me go, Donato.’ Her voice was as shaky as she felt. Not with fear, but because her body came alive so instantly, so completely, at his touch.
With every atom of her being she was aware of his big frame mere inches from her own. It was as if he projected a force-field that sent shock waves across her skin and deeper, heating her core.
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve waited too long.’ His palm slid down her cheek to caress her jaw then thrust back into her hair. Ella’s neck arched and she bit down a sigh at the luxurious feel of his fingers against her scalp. Tiny little shivers coursed down her back and shoulders.
‘Rubbish.’ Her voice was far too soft. She cleared her throat and tried to summon the energy to move away. Her knees had grown wobbly. ‘We haven’t known each other a day.’
Remarkable to think it was less than twenty-four hours since they met.
Donato bent his head even closer and Ella’s breath hitched. He held her captive with that remarkable dark blue gaze. ‘It’s still been too long. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.’ The words were pure seduction, low and tantalising.
Ella told herself it was just a line he tossed out, but even then she couldn’t dredge up the power to move. Stunned, she teetered on the brink of losing herself. She swallowed, her mouth drying at what she read in his stare.
‘Don’t take me for a fool, Donato.’ Despite her indignation her tongue slowed on his name, savouring it. She looked up into that austere, scarred, compelling face and wished, for once in her life, that she really was the beauty in the family. The sort to turn even this man’s head. ‘You came to the party expecting my sister, not me.’
‘And how pleased I was that she couldn’t make it.’ The words were a caress.
‘No!’ She jerked back, finally breaking from his hold. ‘Don’t pretend you were bowled over by my looks or my glittering personality. It won’t work.’ Ella had learned long ago, growing up in her sister’s shadow, that she wasn’t the sort to turn male heads. Pain twisted, razor-sharp, in her chest.
‘You don’t believe me, sweet Ella?’
Damn the man. Even that easy endearment sent her heart tumbling. Was she really that needy? So ready to be seduced by a show of attention?
Yet even as she lashed up indignation she knew she was fooling herself. Despite her protests that sense of connection between them was as real as it was inexplicable. It had slammed through her the moment she’d turned to find Donato’s eyes on her at the party. It had sung in her veins as she’d sparred with him under her father’s horrified gaze. It had turned her on as she lay naked in bed, wishing he was there with her instead of taunting her with that sultry deep voice over the phone.
‘Don’t toy with me, Donato.’ She pressed her lips together.
‘You don’t trust me, do you?’
Her chin hiked up. ‘Not an inch.’
‘Maybe this will convince you.’ He grabbed her hand and, before she could yank it free, placed it on his chest.
Instantly she stilled. The hard staccato beat of his heart pounded beneath her palm. It wasn’t the steady pulse of a man in control. It was the rapid pulse of a man on the brink. Her eyes widened.
Runnels of fire traced across Ella’s skin as she met eyes the colour of twilight. His gaze bored into her, challenging yet, incredibly it seemed, honest.
‘I want you, Ella.’ His gaze pinioned her. ‘And you want me.’
Before she could form a reply his big hand lifted to the upper slope of her breast, palm down. ‘See? We match.’
It was true. Her heartbeat careered just as fast as his. And all she could think about was how it would feel if he slid his hand just a little lower, to cup her breast.
A hot chill raced through her and desire spiked. Her breath grew ragged.
As if reading her mind, Donato slipped his hand down to cover her breast. Ella bit her lip to shut in a gasp of delight. But she couldn’t stop herself from pressing nearer, eyes closing as his hand moulded her soft flesh. Something like relief welled.
He moved and her eyes snapped open. Gripping her arm, he stepped in against her, powering her back until her spine collided with something solid.
They stood toe to toe, hip to thigh, torso to torso and she shivered at how good that felt. Even the scent of him in her nostrils was delicious. The sheer potency of his big body was a promise and, she realised belatedly, a threat.
‘No!’ She lifted her hands to his shoulders and pushed. He didn’t budge. He was as immovable as the Harbour Bridge. ‘I don’t care what deal you and my father have sewn up. You can’t force me. Let me go!’
His jaw set and she watched that pulse throb at his temple. He breathed deep, his nostrils flaring. Then, to her surprise, he stepped back. He stood just inches away, his breath hot on her face, the force-field of his body making her flesh prickle and spark.
‘This isn’t about any deal, Ella. This is about us.’
‘There is no us.’
‘Of course there is. You feel it too, the awareness between us. The desire.’
She felt it all right. It scared her as nothing else ever had that she could recall.
‘You think having sex will convince me to marry you?’ Her chest rose and fell with her choppy breathing. ‘You think you’re that good in bed? Or are you relying on blackmail to force me since my sister is out of reach?’
‘Don’t be a coward, Ella.’
She stiffened. One thing she’d stopped being long ago was a coward. After the life she’d had to endure with her father, the continual battle for respect since love was denied her, she’d earned the right to hold her head high.
‘I’m no coward.’ It came out through clenched teeth.
‘You’re looking for excuses.’ Donato raised his hands. ‘Forget your father. Forget the wedding and the business deal. Forget your sister. I was never interested in her.’
Ella scrutinised his face but his look was sincere. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth and she swallowed hard.
‘This is about you and me. I’m telling you I want you. The question is, are you woman enough to admit you want me too?’
‘With you holding my father’s potential bankruptcy over our heads?’
Donato shook his head. ‘There are two separate issues here.’ He spoke slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘There’s my business deal with your father, and yes, the proposal for a wedding is tied to that. But,’ he continued when she would have interrupted, ‘that’s not what we’re discussing right now. No one is forcing you into anything. Believe me, I would never force a woman into my bed.’
Ella stared into his face, noting how those dark features set in stern lines of rigid control. There was hauteur in the flash of his eyes and pride in the set of his shoulders.
She believed him. The realisation rocked her.
‘What we’re discussing now is sex.’ His voice turned deep and liquid on the word, matching the slow-burning need inside Ella. ‘You and me. Uncomplicated, satisfying, scorching.’
‘Scorching?’ Ella didn’t know how the word escaped. It wasn’t what she’d meant to say. Clearly the look in his eyes had incinerated part of her brain. ‘You assume a lot.’
He shook his head. ‘I assume nothing. I know, Ella. Can’t you feel it?’ Again he reached for her, but this time he only clasped her hand lightly. Fire sparked from the point of contact and she had to work to suppress shivers of delight.
How had she come to this? She’d raced halfway across Sydney to confront Donato, filled with righteous indignation and—
But there’d been more, hadn’t there? No matter what she pretended, it hadn’t just been indignation. She’d been almost relieved for the excuse to see him again, despite her fine talk about them never meeting again. She was angry, for sure. But she was also...enthralled.
She swallowed, her throat scratchy as she confronted the truth. She wanted Donato Salazar as she’d never wanted any man. Her skin felt too tight, her chest too full.
Donato stroked one finger along her palm and she gasped as pleasure rocketed through her.
‘Tell me you feel it too,’ he purred.
Ella bit back a groan of despair. She was out of her depth. She’d never been good at flirtation. Suddenly she didn’t care about pride or keeping up an image. This was about survival—and she felt like she was going under for the third time.
‘What do you want from me, Donato? I don’t play these games.’
‘I don’t play games either. Not about this.’ His face was grim, the hint of teasing erased from features that looked pared back and intense. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard, and something within her eased at that visible sign that he wasn’t totally in control.
Suddenly he stepped back, releasing her hand, and cool air wafted between them.
‘What happens next is up to you.’ His heavy-lidded look was a challenge and an invitation.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DONATO LOOKED DOWN into stunning blue-grey eyes, grown huge and wary. He felt the doubt radiating from Ella, just as he felt the heat of her sexual arousal.
His body was taut, humming with need. He couldn’t quite believe the effort it took not to step closer and persuade her into surrender as he knew he could. The attraction dragging at his belly, arcing between them, was powerful.
But there’d been something about the way she’d mentioned her sister, on top of her talk of being forced, that held him back. He’d seen the quickly veiled hint of fragility in Ella’s expression.
He didn’t have her measure yet but one thing he knew. He needed Ella to come to him.
The moment of silence grew to two pulse beats, three, four, more. His nerves and his patience stretched. He forced himself to stand there unmoving, as if he wasn’t strung out.
Then, with what sounded like a muffled oath, Ella launched herself forward. She cannoned into him, soft and curvaceous, warm and delectably feminine. Automatically he grabbed her to him, catching her in a tight hold. Her arms looped over his shoulders, her hands burrowing up through his hair, pulling his head down.
He had a moment to register that fresh-as-a-garden-after-rain scent then their mouths collided and his brain shorted.
So good. She felt even better than he’d expected. And she tasted—
Donato plunged deep into her mouth, forcing her head back, swallowing her sigh of response. Ribbons of heat unfurled through him as he savoured Ella, so delicious, so right. Her soft lips, her demanding tongue, the way she melted into him even as she challenged him to give more. He angled his head, hauling her even closer, lost in a kiss that was so much more than he’d expected, despite his anticipation.
He couldn’t get enough. Her lush body cushioning his instant erection. Her hot, eager mouth that tasted of peach nectar. Her thigh, sliding restlessly against his leg as their tongues tangled and lips fused.
Donato grabbed her thigh and hauled it up, swallowing her gasp of shocked approval. There. He wanted her there. He bent his knees, angling his hips so he rubbed against the softest, most secret part of her.
To his delight Ella’s hands tightened against his scalp, not pushing him away but clutching as if she couldn’t get close enough.
Dimly he wondered what had happened to slow seduction. To years of expertise at pleasing a woman. To caution and taking things one step at a time.
With Ella there were no steps. There was just a headlong plunge into riotous need.
With his other hand he grabbed her backside, lifting her into him, and she purred her approval. That throaty sound incited, inviting more. She nipped his bottom lip and angled her head to taste him better and his head spun.
Yes! He’d known Ella wouldn’t be a shrinking violet. Not the way passion had sparked and simmered in her, a conflagration waiting to be ignited. Yet he hadn’t expected—
Thought died as she rolled her pelvis against him.
Hell! He was shaking all over. If he wasn’t careful he might drop her.
No, he couldn’t drop her. His hands were welded to her. But they might collapse together on the marble floor if his legs gave way. He was pretty sure he could still enjoy Ella, even with a concussion. In fact a concussion would be worth it to experience Ella coming apart around him.
But she might get hurt.
With a desperate effort he dragged his eyelids up. He couldn’t remember shutting his eyes. All he remembered was the sensual assault as she launched herself at him and his body going into meltdown.
Lips still locked with hers, Donato scanned the foyer, instantly discounting the stairs to the upper floor and the bedrooms. They’d never make it that far. At this rate he wasn’t sure they’d make it out of their clothes.
The sideboard. It sat between two doors, a collector’s piece of exquisite workmanship. Perfect.
Lifting Ella against him, he stumbled across the foyer. Her eyes snapped open, the blaze hitting like a punch to the solar plexus.
‘What?’ She tugged her head away and instantly Donato wanted her back, her mouth surrendering to his.
Then she must have felt the solid furniture behind her because understanding flickered in her eyes. Donato lifted her so she sat on the sideboard, then he stepped in, pushing her knees wide.
For the merest of moments there was stillness between them, a waiting awareness, a final chance to break apart. Then Ella’s eyes drifted shut as he lightly touched her breast. It was high and plump enough to fill his hand. Delectable. Just like her shuddering sigh of approval and the way she arched into his touch, eager for more.
Donato smiled grimly. She was so responsive. He wanted to tease and pleasure her, but he wasn’t sure he could manage anything like his usual finesse.
Then Ella’s hand closed over him and his vision blurred, his groin tightening. All the blood in his body rushed south. Need rocked him and dimly he wondered if he’d have time to get free of his trousers before he came.
Instinct took over from thought as their mouths met and fused. She tugged his head down again, as if afraid he might pull back. Donato ravaged her mouth, forgetting all about control in the need to crush her close.
Between them hands scrabbled at clothes, fumbling and tangling.
Ella’s fingers against his erection almost destroyed Donato. He grabbed her hand and planted it against his chest, over his thundering heart. Then he was wrenching at her trousers, hauling down the zip as she wriggled, helping him. His hands were unsteady but soon there was warm silken skin beneath his touch. Seconds later he was free of his own constraining trousers and pulling her to him.
Carajo! Had anything, ever, felt so good?
Donato lifted his head to drag in oxygen, his lungs already overloaded. Her eyes opened and he was lost in the silvery dazzle of her stare.
Then he touched her with one finger, circling, probing, and her eyes slitted to diamond-bright shards, her throat arching back as if her head was too heavy. Ella was soft, warm, wet, shifting restlessly as one finger became two and—
‘Condom.’ The word was a wisp of sound he almost missed. Then Ella straightened, her eyes locking with his. ‘I don’t have one.’ Delicate colour climbed her throat, a contrast to the pure silver of her eyes. ‘I didn’t think...’
Donato was fascinated by the suspicion that Ella was embarrassed, this woman who’d launched herself at him without reservation, so for a moment the implication didn’t hit. When it did he jerked back, stunned.
How had he, of all people, forgotten anything so basic? Such thoughtlessness wasn’t part of his DNA. Not now, not ever.
It was the work of seconds to grab the foil packet from his trouser pocket and rip it open. See? What seemed a lifetime ago he’d had foresight. He just hadn’t been prepared for the cataclysm that was Ella Sanderson in his arms.