She stared at him with wide eyes, suddenly realising a momentous truth. She had tried to shut her heart to him—but her body had always remained true to her deeper feelings. It had opened to him, yearned to be one with him.
Because she loved him.
Despite everything, she had never stopped loving him. And if she didn’t do something to hide it from him Vito would soon realise the humiliating truth as well.
‘Maybe I missed sex,’ she quipped, trying to keep her voice as light as her words. ‘Or maybe it’s pregnancy. They say pregnancy makes you hot.’
Her flippant response was out of character, and she tensed up inside, waiting to see if Vito would challenge her. But how well could he really know her, if he still believed she had been unfaithful to him?
‘You were always hot.’ In a flash he was kneeling over her, taking hold of her crushed dress and pulling it down over her hips. ‘That’s better—this is how I like you best. Totally naked, apart from your glorious curly hair.’
‘I thought you liked it straightened.’ Lily forced herself to reply even though she was crying inside. All he saw was a naked woman to share his bed. All she saw was the man who would never return her love. ‘I always straightened it for you.’
‘Why?’ Vito asked. He rolled onto his back and lifted her astride him so that her long, loose hair tumbled down over her shoulders and pooled on his broad chest. ‘What made you think that?’
‘Something you said—a compliment you paid me,’ Lily replied, remembering one of their early dates when, despite his reluctance to behave like a tourist in his own city, he had taken her on a gondola. He had pulled her into his arms and run his hands through her hair, saying it was as smooth as spun gold and looked like a liquid sunrise reflected in the lagoon on a glorious winter dawn.
‘I don’t remember.’ Vito’s dismissive words cut into her like a knife. She had made a habit of straightening her hair based on cherished words of flattery he had spoken to her. But it had all been meaningless to him. ‘This is how I like it now,’ he continued. ‘Wild and wanton, like you.’
Lily looked down, letting her hair fall forward to shield her expression.
She’d just realised the most monumental fact—she loved Vito. And yet at every turn she saw again and again just how little she meant to him.
‘We have a lot of time to make up for.’ The words caught in Lily’s throat, but she hoped he’d mistake her shaky tone for rising passion. If she was going to survive in this marriage she had to find a way to shield her heart and her true feelings from him.
‘What do you want to do now?’ Vito asked, running his hands over the curve of her hips and snuggling her closer to his erection.
‘No more talking,’ Lily said, dipping her body forward to run her tongue over the sensitive skin of his throat. Her nipples tightened as they brushed against his chest, and desire was already building within her, mercifully blotting out the pain in her heart.
She couldn’t bear to hear any more words that made her realise how little she’d meant to him, even back when she’d thought they were happy. Before he believed she’d betrayed him.
He had been everything to her. He still was.
CHAPTER NINE
LILY was still asleep the following morning as Vito dressed for work. He moved quietly around the room so that he didn’t disturb her. It was the first time since he’d brought her back to Venice that he’d seen her in a really deep sleep. Most mornings when he’d got ready for work she’d already been up. And most evenings, even if she’d been in bed pretending to be asleep, she’d been restless.
She made a small sound and rolled over, reaching above her head to flip the pillow over, then snuggled back down, surrounded by a wild mass of long blonde curls.
Vito smiled, recognising the action. Even in her sleep she liked the cold side of the pillow. She was such a warm-blooded creature that she always liked cool things. Iced water, ice cream. And now that she was pregnant it was like a tiny furnace was glowing inside her. He wondered how she would cope as the summer heated up. He’d take her away to his estate on the Veneto plain. Or even up to his retreat in the Dolomite mountains. But he’d need to keep her medical care in mind—he couldn’t allow anything to happen to her or the baby.
He gazed down at her. Possibly for the first time in months he really let himself look, safe in the knowledge that she was oblivious to his attention. She was lying on her side with one knee drawn up and the other leg stretched out. She looked like a graceful gazelle, frozen at the height of an elegant leap.
An unexpected feeling prickled through him, and he acknowledged it for what it was: he’d missed Lily, missed what he thought they’d had together before he’d discovered her betrayal.
This marriage was all about doing what was right for his grandfather—Giovanni deserved to reach the end of his life knowing that his legacy would go on.
But if things continued like last night—their love-making had been nothing short of incendiary—it was going to be much more pleasant than he’d thought when they were still at daggers drawn.
Lily slept late that morning, and when she awoke her body was filled with the languid glow of complete sensual satisfaction. She rolled over and stretched, noticing the time with surprise. But, after the utter lack of inhibition she’d shown with Vito the night before, she was pleased he’d already left for work. She wasn’t entirely sure that she was ready to face him yet.
She made her way to the en suite and ran herself a deep, luxurious bath. With her hair piled haphazardly on top of her head, she lay back in the soft bubbles and thought about what had happened with Vito. She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks as she remembered how wildly she’d behaved with him. His touch had sent her up in flames. They’d made love before—many, many times. But it had never been so intense.
Maybe that had been her body’s way of letting her know that she loved him.
Up until last night her mind had certainly rejected that possibility, after the way he had treated her. But perhaps it was impossible to change the reality of her deeper feelings simply by telling herself what she ought to believe. Her heart still knew the truth.
However, she knew that loving him made her vulnerable. A small sigh escaped her as she stepped out of the bath onto the marble mosaic floor. She must never let him guess the depth of her feelings.
She dried herself briskly and set about getting dressed for her visit to Giovanni. She liked to wear something nice for him. He didn’t see many people, and he often complimented her on her appearance.
Suddenly she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and stopped and stared. Her eyes were shining brightly, her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was bouncing wildly about her shoulders in a riot of curls.
She couldn’t visit Giovanni looking that that! The sharp-witted old man would guess immediately what had caused such a change in the way she looked. She’d simply feel too self-conscious—like a deflowered virgin the morning after her wedding night, wondering if everyone knew what she had just experienced for the first time.
She sat down at the dressing table and pulled her ceramic straighteners from the drawer. Then she hesitated. Vito had said he liked her hair curly. If she straightened it again, it would seem like she was making the point that she didn’t care about his opinion. But, on the other hand, she definitely didn’t want to make it appear that she would do anything to please him—she’d already been down that route when she’d started straightening her hair because of an apparently meaningless comment he didn’t even remember making.
In the end she did her hair in the same smooth style she’d worn since returning to Venice. She was already late for Giovanni, and she couldn’t let herself waste time worrying about silly details. She had more important things to concern her, like whether the old man would ask her straight out if she’d managed to ease the tension that he had detected between her and Vito.
As it turned out she need not have worried. Giovanni was tired that day a
nd spent most of her visit dozing. When he was awake he told her about the great flood of 1966. It had been more than forty years ago, but his memories were sharp and his descriptions vivid as he told her how the sea level had risen by two metres, washing right through the ground floor of Ca’Salvatore, and causing untold damage to the city.
Walking back home to the palazzo, Lily reflected on her new friendship with Giovanni. He was old, and according to his doctors did not have long to live, but Lily was so grateful for the time she was able to spend with him. He had accepted her so warmly into his family, and his personal stories about his life and the city that had always been his home meant a lot to her.
Whatever happened with Vito, in years to come she would tell her child how happy Giovanni had been, knowing his grandchild was on the way. She would remember the stories he had told her, so that her child would know about his or her Italian family—even if Vito still refused to acknowledge them.
Vito paced back and forth across his study impatiently. He’d come home to see Lily, but she hadn’t returned from her daily visit to his grandfather.
She was late. And he wanted to see her now.
He’d spent the morning totally distracted, until finally he’d given into his desire to come home and ravish her.
Sex with Lily had always been good, but last night they had taken it to a new level. It had been utterly mind-blowing, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all morning. Thinking about doing it again and again.
He strode over to the window, cursing himself for his lack of control.
Why was he letting Lily get to him so badly? Was it simply that he’d been too long without a woman, and now last night had reminded his body what it had been missing?
He looked at his watch, wondering again what time she would return. Perhaps he should go out in search of her, but although Ca’ Salvatore wasn’t far away there were several routes she could take home.
Suddenly he found himself questioning why she kept visiting Giovanni even though she knew there was no future in it. What did she hope to gain, either for herself or for her child?
He hadn’t stopped her visits because his grandfather seemed to really enjoy them. But it puzzled him that Lily genuinely seemed to enjoy them too.
She wasn’t like the other women he’d known. That was part of what had attracted him to her in the first place.
She really didn’t seem interested in his wealth and status. Spending time together was all she’d ever really wanted from him.
The thought troubled him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, determined to get himself back under control.
It was later than usual when Lily got home. As she climbed the stairs to the first floor of the palazzo, a strange feeling prickled down her spine, as if she was being watched.
‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
Startled, despite the fact her senses had warned her Vito was close, she stopped mid-step and looked up to see him standing outside his study.
The sight of him lounging nonchalantly against the door-jamb, oozing self-assurance and sex appeal from every inch of his incredible body, sent her pulse racing. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt butterflies start to flutter wildly in her stomach.
‘I’ve been to see your grandfather.’ The words sounded husky and she swallowed, determined to keep her cool, even though her body and mind were suddenly beset by vivid memories of their wild love-making the night before.
‘How was he?’ His silky Italian accent shimmied straight through her defences, and her composure started to dissolve immediately.
‘Fine, but very tired. He told me all about the flood.’ She started walking up the stairs towards him, and although she tried she simply couldn’t drag her eyes away from him standing in the doorway.
She watched him remove the jacket of his dark suit and loosen his tie. The effect was alarmingly dynamic—as if he didn’t intend to keep his immaculate appearance for long. As if he meant business—a different kind of business from usual.
He combed his fingers through his black hair, sweeping it back from his perfectly proportioned face. His skin was lightly bronzed, and he looked the embodiment of health and vigour.
His blue eyes were intense, locked in his unbroken appraisal of her. She felt her skin warming in response to his gaze, yet despite that warmth a shiver began at the nape of her neck and tingled all the way down her backbone.
She reached the top step and still he towered over her, shamelessly occupying her personal space. In a moment of nervousness she thought she should carry on walking, move past him, but it was strangely difficult to move—or be aware of anything other than Vito. The heat of his body burned through her dress, the sound of his breathing caressed her ears.
Maybe this was his personal space, she pondered vaguely. It was his scent that enclosed her, his scent that she pulled deep inside her with every breath she drew.
The potent mix of raw masculinity laced with his exotic cologne, the very essence of the man himself, was making her feel dizzy. She found herself swaying.
His hands closed on her waist. The impact was instant. His sharp intake of breath told her he felt it too—like a surge of electricity zinging between them. He lifted her up the final step and stood her directly before him.
Her head fell back and her eyes widened as she looked up at his face, only inches from her own. His eyes narrowed as his gaze swept over her, settling possessively on her mouth, conveying his thoughts with devastating certainty.
She was breathing quickly in small, shaky bursts through slightly parted lips. Her tongue peeked out treacherously, moistening lips that were already red, and tingling in willful anticipation of his kiss, betraying her needs to him.
‘I came home to make love to you.’
His words seared through her like a liquid fire, melting the last of her defences, whipping up the flames of her desire. She stared up at him with wide eyes, knowing that just how much she wanted him must be written all over her face.
Suddenly he stepped backwards, pulling her into his study with him. The door banged shut and he turned the key. Then he brought all his attention back to her.
‘I couldn’t get last night out of my mind,’ he said, tugging her close to him.
‘I thought about it too.’ Lily’s voice wavered. His hands had already found the tiny pearl buttons that fastened the front of her dress and he was making quick work of them.
‘It was incredible,’ Vito said, gripping the hem of her dress and pulling it straight over the top of her head. He tossed the garment aside, then his hands were on her naked skin, sweeping across her body in a way that set her trembling deep inside.
Lily gazed at him through a growing haze of sexual excitement. He was utterly gorgeous and he was going to make love to her. Her heart was racing and her legs felt weak. Just like last night, all it had taken was the merest touch and her body was on fire for him again.
She lifted her hands, tugging distractedly at his clothing. He knew what she wanted, and within moments he was standing naked before her.
Her eyes roamed greedily over his magnificent body, revelling in his pure masculine perfection, before being drawn inexorably to the proud thrust of his erection.
She wanted to touch. Needed to touch. Without a conscious decision she reached for him and her fingers coiled around his hard, jutting flesh.
‘Lily!’ He closed his eyes and a deep, feral sound rumbled from within his chest. Then, never taking her eyes off his face, she began to move her hand in the way she knew he liked.
His breathing changed immediately, and he dragged air into his lungs in an uneven rhythm through parted lips. His head had dipped to one side, letting his fringe fall forward, and she saw his tongue flick against his teeth.
Suddenly she ached to kiss him. Without letting go of him, she stepped closer. Then, standing on tiptoes, she pulled his head down to hers.
He kissed her hungri
ly, his tongue plunging into her mouth with an erotic intimacy, and all the while she was aware of her hand caressing him, felt his reaction to the movement of her fingers through his kiss.
Suddenly he pulled away, gasping for breath, and gripped her wrist to still her hand.
‘No more. Not now.’ His voice was as laboured as his breathing, and she knew what he meant. He wanted this to last for both of them.
Almost reluctantly she uncoiled her fingers, but then he pulled her close and spun her round in front of him, so that he could lift her hair out of the way and kiss the back of her neck.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured, before tracing the edge of her ear with his tongue.
She trembled and leant back against him, the skin of her back pressed against the skin of his chest. And the whole time she was acutely conscious of the length of his erection behind her.
‘Look in the mirror,’ he murmured. ‘See what I see.’
She lifted her eyes and stared at their reflection in his large mirror. He was behind her, curled over her possessively, and she was standing in her lacy bra and briefs surrounded by a shimmering curtain of blonde hair.
Suddenly his hands began to slide around to the front of her body.
It was a strange sensation to feel and watch at the same time as his large bronzed hand slipped beneath the lace of her bra. Her nipple tightened to a hard point against his palm, then suddenly he eased the stretch-lace down so that her breast came free of the bra cup.
She gasped as erotic feelings flooded through her. Supported and lifted underneath, her breast thrust proudly towards the mirror, the nipple a pert, rosy bud that drew the eye.
‘Is that uncomfortable?’ he asked, his breath tickling her ear so that she shivered and tilted her head towards him.
‘No.’ She shook her head, aware of her breast, of the way her nipple felt supercharged with the aching need to be touched.
His hand slipped beneath her other breast, lifting it out of the bra cup as well. Now both breasts were pointing shamelessly towards the mirror, tight and tingling with the need to feel Vito’s hands on them.
The Salvatore Marriage Deal Page 11
