by Annie West
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 h
erself 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.
There was something unbelievably arousing about holding Ella’s gaze as he sheathed himself. The soft pink rose to streak her fine cheekbones. For a fraction of a second the word endearing flashed into Donato’s brain, before higher thought became impossible and he gave in to primitive instinct.
Hands to her smooth bare hips, he pulled her close then with one sure movement pushed home.
A sound halfway between a sigh and a sob escaped Ella’s reddened lips and he made himself still, though the tight embrace of her slick heat almost made him lose himself.
Had he hurt her? He tried to unlock his jaw to ask but if he moved a muscle he mightn’t be able to hold back from the inevitable.
Then Ella shifted, her legs lifting over his hips, locking around his waist, making him sink deeper into beckoning warmth. She clung to his shoulders and suddenly there was nothing stopping him. That was invitation in her eyes, not pain. And the feel of her moving against him...
Donato succumbed, taking her fast and hard, revelling in her beautiful body that accepted him so eagerly. Each tilt of her pelvis, each softly indrawn breath was an incitement to pleasure. He couldn’t get enough. He couldn’t manage finesse. There was nothing but the compulsion to make her his in the most primitive, satisfying way possible.
The world was already blurring when Donato felt the ripples of her arousal quicken around him. The sensation was too much and he braced one arm on the wall behind her, bucking high and hard with a desperation that was more animal than civilised man.
He needed her, and this exquisite pleasure.
‘Ella!’ Her name was a husky roar, surprising him as it emerged from his mouth.
Her body stiffened then jerked around him. Her eyes sprang wide open and he fell into pools of burnished moonlight.
There was a flash of heat, a surge of energy and he spilled himself, collapsing into her as the world exploded. Chest and shoulders heaving, head bowed against her fragrant neck, Donato experienced pure rapture as Ella clutched him close.
He’d expected passion and pleasure. But nothing like this. When had he ever called out a lover’s name like that? When had he ever forgotten protection?
Donato gathered her in, relishing her soft womanly body, so lax in his arms.
* * *
The world had contracted to the living pulse beating through her, through him, filling the air around them and the darkness behind her closed lids. Ella wasn’t sure she was still alive after that cataclysmic orgasm.
Had it ever been like that before?
Of course it hadn’t. If it had she’d never have let her love life sink without a trace.
Donato moved, pulling gently away, murmuring something she couldn’t hear over her rocketing pulse and harsh breathing. Soon she’d open her eyes but for now she slumped back against the wall that at this moment felt as comfortable as any feather bed.
Her bones had melted. She wasn’t sure she could move her legs. But it didn’t matter. She never wanted to move again. She felt blissfully, utterly wonderful.
She felt... Words faded in the afterglow of rapture.
Finally, the awkward angle of her head against the wall and the hard surface beneath her penetrated her dazed brain. She should move. She had...surely there was something she had to do?
Gingerly Ella sat up, hands braced on the seat beneath her, only to find it wasn’t a seat. It was hard and bumpy. With a huge effort she pried open heavy eyelids and looked down. She was sitting on a carving of a chariot. It was pulled by horses with wide nostrils and, as she shifted, she saw a couple of naked men, maybe gods, riding behind.
Ella blinked, her hands stroking the satiny polished wood beyond the carved plaque. Her gaze strayed to the delicate, obviously hand-carved garlands of fruit and flowers that grew fancifully out of the top of the sideboard to trail decoratively down the front.
Her throat closed. If she wasn’t mistaken she’d just had mind-blowing sex on top of a piece of furniture worth more than she earned in a year. A museum piece that some collector had no doubt lovingly restored.
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the brilliantly polished wood. Her eyes closed.
Forget the furniture, Ella. How about the fact you had wild sex with a stranger? A man you’ve known less than a day? And you barely made it past his front door?
She swallowed hard, her throat constricting as her body hummed with the resonance of the climax they’d shared.
Who was this woman and what had she done with Ella Sande
rson?
A footstep sounded and her eyes popped open. Relief made her sag, her hand to her racing heart. ‘It’s you.’
‘You were expecting someone else?’ Donato looked as debonair and dangerous as ever. More so, with his thick black hair deliciously rumpled. A shiver spread out from her womb and she kept her eyes off his face, not ready to meet that intense scrutiny.
He was fully clothed. Ella tugged her long top lower. But that voice in her head drawled that it was too late for modesty. That didn’t stop the blood rushing to her face as she registered her bare legs and the fact she still wore her shoes. Her pants lay in a heap a few steps away.
She swallowed, reminding herself that embarrassment couldn’t kill her. It never had in all those years facing her father’s superior friends. Even this, the pinnacle of mortification, would pass.
‘I wondered if you have staff.’
‘Not today. I gave them the day off.’ He paced closer and her head jerked up. The gleam in his eyes was pure carnal invitation, as was the half smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. Heat blasted her, turning the marrow in her bones molten.
How could she feel so needy again? Surely it had only been minutes since they’d— Ella slammed a door on that train of thought.
He was before her now, his palms resting lightly on her bare thighs. His hands were broad, hard with calluses, and the feel of them on her skin made her pulse skitter. She remembered him touching her intimately and the breath sighed out of her lungs.
Then his words penetrated.
‘You gave them the day off? Why? Because you were so sure we’d...’ Ella swallowed hard. ‘So sure of me?’
His expression was still, giving nothing away, except for that banked heat.
‘I was sure that, whatever happened, I wanted complete privacy. No distractions.’
She angled her jaw. ‘In case I ravished you before I even got past the foyer?’ Her bravado hid a world of discomfort. She wanted to scurry away and hide, not brazen out her inexplicable behaviour. She’d acted like a tart instead of her cautious, reserved self.
