by Julia James
His hand parted her legs and she had a brief moment of trepidation as she could feel the smooth head of him nudge her slick entrance. As if sensing that fear, Dante stopped for a second, even though never before had he had the urge to drive in so far and so deep that he’d lose himself. He put a hand between them, feeling for himself. Her wetness made him throb; she was so ready. She moaned as his hand moved and he slipped a couple of fingers inside her. She bit her lip and moved her hips slightly against him and then he took his hand away.
‘No, bella, it’s going to be much better than that.’
And, lowering his body, pushing against her, he slid in. Sweat broke out on his brow at the first feel of her tight muscles squeezing around him, holding him so snugly that he didn’t even know if he could push in any more, but then he felt her hands on his arms and she tilted her hips and he slid deeper. He bit back a long moan of pure masculine joy and pleasure. No woman had ever felt like this around him. So snug, so tight, so hot.
He looked down into Alicia’s eyes and they were black pools of want and need. He flexed his bottom and kept sliding in, all the way.
His breathing was harsh and jagged, like hers. Alicia looked up, wide-eyed. She’d never felt so stretched, so full … so full of aching tightening sensations; they were building through her body like a delicious tidal wave of sensation upon sensation. Dante slowly started to move, in and out. He tilted her hips, deepening the penetration even further and Alicia moaned softly, wrapping her legs around his back, as far as they would go.
She pulled his head back down to her, searching for and finding his mouth just as he thrust deep and hit the very heart of her again, and she gasped against his mouth. All her muscles were tensing; she couldn’t believe she was so close already, but the waves were building and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Her back arched and she cried out as she exploded into pieces around him. But he wasn’t done, not yet.
With long, hard thrusts he kept moving and, although her body was so sensitive for a second that it almost hurt, Alicia could feel herself adjust and start building all over again. She thought to herself: It’s not possible … she wouldn’t be able to survive another orgasm like it … but Dante had other ideas.
Alicia gripped his arms. Their bodies were slick with sweat, her legs fell from his back as she tensed again. And, just as the wave crested, he lowered his head and caught one nipple in his mouth, sucking fiercely, and Alicia couldn’t stop the tremors, even stronger this time from gripping her whole body and turning everything black for a second. The world shifted back into focus just as Dante tensed above her and in her, before his own body spasmed and she felt the pulsating strength of him release deep into her body. And in that moment, as he fell over her in a dead slump, everything suddenly made sense to Alicia. As if she’d lived just for this moment.
After a long minute of their intermingling breaths lengthening and becoming normal again, their frantic heartbeats slowing, Dante finally found the strength to roll off Alicia and lay at her side. He wanted to pull her close, take her hand, and had to clench his fist to stop the impulsive action. Great sex. That was all it was. Great sex had the biological result of inviting feelings of affection, wanting to be close. Even if it had never happened before … or the only time it had happened he’d learnt his lesson never to succumb again and, so far, he’d never met a woman who’d inspired this feeling … until now. Which proved to him that he was right not to trust her an inch.
She was the same—all mercenary women were the same.
He jackknifed off the bed and was about to stand up when sudden cold horror spread through him. He looked back at the woman behind him. Her eyes were closed, her arm was over her face and her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Was she crying? It momentarily diverted him from his very unwelcome revelation.
He reached back and took her arm down. Her eyes remained shut but he could see wetness on her cheeks.
‘Alicia.’
She opened her eyes finally and pulled her arm from his hand. She sat up and got off the bed, her face a mask of indifference as she bent and picked up her clothes. Awkwardly pulling on her skirt and holding the rest of her things over her chest, she walked to the door of her bedroom.
Still stunned and surprised at her actions, at the evidence of tears, Dante could only watch. She turned at the door and said huskily, with the slightest catch in her voice, ‘Just so you know, as you obviously don’t think about such mundane matters, I’m on the pill, so there shouldn’t be any consequences of this …’ she was obviously searching for words ‘… act.’
And then she slipped through the door and disappeared. How dared she? Dante jumped up, incensed, his male pride bristling, and took a few steps towards the door before stopping himself. The thought of protection or, more to the point, the lack of it was the thing that had made him stop in abject horror. He never, ever forgot about protection. He was fanatical about it and, on very rare occasions where he didn’t have any and he didn’t trust the woman if she told him she was on the pill, he had no qualms about calling a halt to things.
But just now … heat flooded his body and he felt himself becoming aroused again with very little stimulation, at just the thought of what had happened … it had not even occurred to him. He grimaced and ran an angry hand through his hair. She had every right to have that tone in her voice if she thought he acted like that on a regular basis.
He turned from the door and went into his shower, stepping under a punishing cold spray. Why had she been crying? His movements stilled. Could it have been because he’d hurt her? But then he remembered that mind-blowing climax; he’d been certain that it had been exactly the same for her—those moans and sighs hadn’t been of pain. Still, he had a nasty taste in his mouth as he stepped out and dried off.
Alicia didn’t know where she’d had the confidence to get off that bed so coolly, put on her skirt and leave the room without the awful shaking gripping her body. What had just happened to her … was so huge … that she couldn’t acknowledge it or dwell on it. She stood under the hot shower, letting the water sluice down over her skin. She didn’t even have the energy to wash her hair and had to keep twisting when the water hit a still too sensitive patch of skin. She remembered the feel of his hand on her scar, the vulnerability she’d felt, and hurriedly stopped that train of thought.
She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought of protection and, to be honest, she was surprised that she’d only thought of it in that split second at the door. He seemed like the kind of man who would be concerned about something so fundamental, especially when he’d been so adamant when she’d accused him of fathering Mel’s baby. He’d been certain, and only a man who protected himself would be that certain. Not that she’d given him the benefit of the doubt, of course, she had to concede.
And, had he seen her tears? Did he know that he’d moved her to tears with his body? Moved her to tears because she’d never experienced such pure, primal pleasure in her life? Because for the last year she’d cut off an emotional part of herself that she’d thought had been lost for ever. She’d had to, in order to survive.
But just now, here, this man had made her feel again. She remonstrated with herself, she’d wanted to feel alive again and now she didn’t know if she could take it. She’d played a game that she’d thought, stupidly, she’d be sophisticated enough to handle but it had shown her nothing but her weakness.
Alicia towelled herself quickly and then climbed under the covers of her bed. Her body still throbbed and pulsed in secret places. And, even though she’d just washed, the scent of him lingered.
Before she fell into a sleep of physical exhaustion, her head in turmoil, the lingering thought remained, How was it possible that this man, above any other had given her back something so precious? When another man, just like him, had taken it away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘I’VE booked everyone into a small boutique hotel for the next two weeks. It’s owned by a friend of mine f
rom France. He would have been here to host us himself but he and his wife are having another baby any day now.’
‘You’re talking about Xavier Salgado-Lezille?’
Dante nodded at Derek O’Brien, who shook his head mock mournfully. ‘They had twins only a couple of years ago …’ He pretended to shudder and winked at Alicia who forced a smile. ‘I’m glad ours are all grown up, that’s all I can say.’
His wife laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be scaring them, Derek. You are the quintessential doting father of four girls; you’re fooling no one.’
Then she said in an aside to Alicia, ‘All the girls are busy this summer working or getting ready for college; otherwise they’d be here in force to support us …’
Alicia murmured something polite and looked out of the window of the people carrier and swallowed an inexplicable lump in her throat, wishing she could tune out the conversation, hating feeling so emotional. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—meet Dante’s laser like gaze opposite her and wished she’d worn her sunglasses.
They were on the way to their Cape Town hotel which was in the trendy area of Camps Bay, near the beach. And she’d finally understood what Dante had been talking about when he’d mentioned the media interest—the airport in Milan had been mobbed. She’d even recognised the faces of the reporter and photographer who she had contacted that awful first night. And, when they’d arrived into Cape Town, another scrum had been waiting for them. She’d been too scared to do anything but cling on to Dante’s hand as he had guided them through the crush, ignoring questions. Alicia had felt as if they’d see through her in a second. That someone would call out, What on earth are you doing with her?
She could feel some of the tension ebbing away already as they passed through the pretty city, and she’d been so relieved to find them sharing Dante’s plane with Derek and chatty Patricia. But she knew there wouldn’t be much respite as he had said they would be sharing a room here. She’d managed to avoid any meaningful contact today but had caught Dante’s eye several times and, along with the inevitable heat flaring between them, had been a look—a look that said she wouldn’t escape.
As soon as they arrived, Alex, Dante’s assistant, appeared, apologized to Alicia and commandeered Dante for the rest of the day to set things up. Alicia faked her dismay and Dante gave her a very pointed look as he walked away. She breathed a huge sigh of relief and went to explore their suite. The luggage had been delivered already and Alicia shook her head wryly. This was what extreme wealth did. The suite was huge, with a deck balcony that looked out over the beautiful beaches of Camps Bay. It was simply stunning.
Alicia felt quite emotional as she took it in, thinking about the difference between here and where she’d been up until a few weeks ago.
She busied herself unpacking and decided a couple of hours later to go downstairs and check out the surroundings. She was standing at the reception desk waiting for a map when she heard a voice behind her and it sent shivers of recognition down her spine.
‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Alicia Parker. Isn’t the world the smallest place?’
Alicia turned around slowly. A tall woman stood behind her, long black glossy hair, an over-made-up face, hard blue eyes. Her stomach fell. Of all the places and all the people. She couldn’t even pretend to smile—what was the point? There was no love lost between them. As student nurses and then nurses together, this woman had fought a continuous battle with Alicia, whether it had been in exams or going for jobs.
Alicia had had to give up trying to be friendly and make her see that she wasn’t interested in being her number one competitor. And then, unbeknownst to Alicia until far too late, it had finally culminated in the ultimate competition—for a man—except in the end they’d both suffered equally.
‘Serena Cox.’
The woman smiled nastily and gestured to a small rotund man at the other end of the reception desk. ‘Serena Gore-Black now. I’m married to Jeremy.’
Alicia looked at the man fleetingly. She knew he was from Dante’s company in London. She’d exchanged pleasantries with him at Lake Como; they’d talked a bit about Melanie but Alicia had been careful not to mention Paolo and he seemed not to have heard anything. She couldn’t believe this twist of fateful coincidence; it was too cruel.
‘That’s … nice.’
‘And you’re here with?’
‘Dante D’Aquanni.’
Alicia got no satisfaction from the momentary flash of undisguised envy in Serena’s eyes.
‘Really?’ Serena’s eyes did a once over, taking in Alicia’s understated, yet obviously expensive clothes. ‘You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you?’
Alicia smiled tightly. ‘I really should be getting back—’
Serena’s husband came over to join them. He smiled at Alicia and she had to smile back. He seemed like a nice man, she thought again, apart from his wife.
‘Darling, I can’t believe I’ve run into Alicia Parker … or should I say D’Aquanni?’
Alicia turned puce. ‘No, it’s Parker.’ As if!
‘I’m sure it is.’ There was a gleam of triumph in Serena’s eyes. She looked at her husband. ‘We used to work together in the Royal a few years ago.’
Jeremy made a polite noise and Alicia fairly sagged back against the desk when they finally walked away. This was not good. Serena was a prize mischief-maker. And she knew far too much.
When Dante returned to the suite that evening, Alicia was ready and waiting for dinner. He barely cast her a quick glance as he shed his clothes on the way to the shower. She looked away hurriedly and went to stand out on the balcony. It was artfully secluded and kept private from prying eyes.
When she heard him emerge behind her she didn’t turn around, not wanting to see him getting dressed, but what was she going to do tonight? She felt panic rise. Because if he so much as looked at her she was going to find it hard to resist. A treacherous sexual tension had been building inside her all day, despite her head willing her body to behave.
Dante buttoned his shirt and looked at Alicia’s slim, taut back. The momentary memory of that scar just above her right buttock made him feel curiously protective. For a second. And then he quashed it. For all he knew, he told himself with something that felt like dogged obstinacy, it could just be a story … He hadn’t forgotten the way she’d so coolly laid herself bare for him just afterwards. It had jarred with him then, and jarred again now.
She wore a cream silk dress, it was tight fitting and ruched, emphasising her curves, and suddenly desire was heavy and potent in him. He wanted to stop dressing and go over there, take her hair down from its neat chignon, pull down that zip. His hands stilled for a second, desire coming close to winning out, but then he had to stop. They couldn’t. There would be plenty of time later.
Alicia felt Dante’s eyes boring into her back. She still fought against turning around, too scared to look, and then the spell was broken by his curt voice.
‘I’m ready, let’s go.’
She turned around and was glad to see him dressed. She walked in and picked up a wrap. His eyes drifted down from her face and over her body, which heated up with awful predictability.
‘Am I OK?’
‘You’ll do.’
Well, there was a backhanded compliment if ever there was one, she thought, bringing her back to earth with a bump.
They walked to the door and Dante was about to allow her to precede him when he stopped her and looked very pointedly at her feet. She looked down, confused, and saw that she’d forgotten to put her shoes on. He had her head in a complete tizzy.
‘Sorry …’ She blushed furiously and found them, wincing a little as she put them on. They were cream silk, a slightly darker shade than the dress, with little jewels on the front. Killer heels. And they hurt like hell. When she stood up Dante had to suck in a breath, they pushed everything out that was meant to tease and entice a man. Her bottom and her breasts. He’d never noticed before how ero
tic it could be to watch a woman put on shoes.
She walked carefully towards him and he shut the door again for a second. She looked at him warily, ‘What …? We’re going to be late.’
He pulled her in to him, the heels gave her added height, bringing her closer to his mouth.
Bending down and capturing her head with a hand in her hair, he kissed her. Alicia put her hand on his wrist and felt his pulse, his skin. His mouth moved over hers and all of last night’s passion and force came back instantly. She moaned, half in despair and half in heat-induced lust as she swayed in towards him and her mouth opened, and he took full advantage. Just as she’d feared, her iron-clad intentions were not so iron-clad in the forcefield of this man.
It was the burning feel of his arousal against her that woke her up and she pulled back with effort. She knew her eyes must be bright, her cheeks flushed. She felt hot and tingly all over.
‘Dante … I’m not going to sleep with you again. This wasn’t part of the arrangement.’ There was some kind of desperation in her voice. ‘Please. I’m just here as your hostess to make things look good.’
Dante shook his head, his eyes flashing. ‘The arrangement has changed. You’re here now as my partner in every sense of the word. Why would you want to deny yourself this?’ He placed a hand on her heart, just below her breasts; it was thumping out of control.
He shook his head again. ‘It’s just sex, cara—amazing sex. We don’t have to like each other … or respect each other in the morning.’
Inside, Alicia shrivelled up and died at his cynical words. At least Raul Carro had couched his desire in a fake haze of love. Dante pulled no punches and, in a way, she should be grateful for that, but still she was determined to hold out in whatever way possible, because she could not endure or cope with the kind of pleasure he could wring from her body again.
Tight-lipped, she reached past him and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor. He followed and looked at her back, walking away from him. It had been on the tip of his tongue a few minutes ago to say something about last night, about not using protection, but now he knew he couldn’t. He wasn’t ready to face up to that fact yet himself—that she’d made him so hot that he’d forgotten—and, if he explained, he didn’t want her to read anything into it. And she would. Because she was a gold-digger and arch manipulator.
