And something about her candour made him answer in kind. ‘I’m fighting it,’ he admitted huskily. ‘And it’s a battle I seem to be losing right now.’
Her lips parted in silent invitation and he saw them tremble as he reached across to trace their sensual curve with the pad of his thumb. And when he replaced his thumb with the slow brush of his mouth, he could feel the instant jerk of lust—as powerful as if he were a teenager who’d just discovered sex. It was the slowest kiss in the world and it was also the hottest. Before too long she was clawing at his shoulders and he was pushing her back against the seat, his hands all over the rich satin of her gown. He could hear her murmured little moans urging him on and he wanted to touch her bare skin. He wanted to do that so badly. But the dress was stretched tightly across her thighs and what he emphatically did not want was an undignified struggle.
‘I have no intention of doing it in the car,’ he said evenly. ‘Even if you didn’t happen to be wearing the world’s most constricting dress.’
‘I knew you didn’t like it.’
‘I don’t give a damn about your dress, other than the fact it’s in the way. It needs to be removed as quickly as possible and I think that could best be done in the comfort of my bedroom.’ He paused. ‘Unless you have a better idea?’
He could see the faint doubts which drifted across her face, like the flashes of gold from the passing streetlights. He could banish those doubts by telling her stuff she wanted to hear. Weasel words and soft enticements. Things he didn’t mean. Things he could never mean. But he had never made false promises to get a woman in his bed and he never would. Either she accepted him for the man he was, or she got nothing.
She was sitting perfectly still and the intricate confection of her dark hair made her look like a cool and beautiful stranger. ‘I can’t think of one,’ she said, in a whisper.
As the car swung in through the electric gates and security lights illuminated the grounds, Salvatore felt the heavy beat of anticipation. The house was quiet as he took Lina up to his private suite, as he had taken women there many times before, but never had he felt this hungry. He offered her a drink but when she refused he was glad, leading her straight into the bedroom, taking the small velvet bag from her hands and placing it on a nearby chair.
He bent his head, kissed her and began to undress her, sliding down the zip of the fitted dress with a little difficulty until the rich fabric concertinaed to the ground, leaving her wearing underwear which was almost certainly new. Salvatore’s eyes narrowed. The delicate bra and matching thong panties undoubtedly made the most of her curves—so why had he started to ache with something which felt like nostalgia for the no-nonsense white knickers he had encountered on the plane?
Very soon she was completely naked and he removed the last of the pins from her hair. And as her black curls tumbled free, he was filled with a rush of lust so pure and so instant that he made a small growling sound beneath his breath.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he rasped.
‘I’m... I’m not.’
‘Believe me, you are.’ And she was. Because now she looked like Lina again. Like the earthy Sicilian beauty who had given him her innocence. Her firm curves were outlined against his white sheets and her nipples were thrusting little points of deep rose, just begging for his lips to kiss them again. She was bending her knees and her soft fleshy thighs were parting and suddenly Salvatore found himself mesmerised by the dark triangular blur at their apex, as if he’d never seen a naked woman before.
A shimmer of resentment heated his blood as he tore off his own clothes, in between giving her one hard kiss after another, because his hands were shaking like a drunk’s and he had drunk nothing stronger than water all evening. But all that resentment had melted away by the time he was straddling her on the bed, watching her awe-struck face as he made that first sweet thrust. And soon after that, he was wondering if he was ever going to be able to stop coming as he bit back a word which was rushing from the very depths of his lungs, a word which might just have been her name.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS THE most beautiful view she had ever seen.
From the comfort of Salvatore’s king-sized bed, Lina stared out at the bright blue of the distant bay. Beneath the fine linen sheets she was completely naked and her cheeks grew warm as she remembered what Salvatore had said just before he’d left for the office at some unspeakable hour this morning, when he had observed her silently watching him from her prone position.
‘That was fantastic.’ His gaze had met hers in the reflection of the mirror as he knotted his silk tie.
‘Yes.’ Her voice had faltered and it was only afterwards that she realised how servile she must have sounded. ‘Not that I’ve got anything to compare it with, of course, but I—’
‘Believe me, Lina, it was amazing,’ he had interrupted, almost as if having to make the admission wasn’t something he particularly relished. He had glanced down at his watch with the relief of someone lost at sea who had suddenly spotted a lifeboat. ‘I really have to go,’ he’d said.
His goodbye kiss had been brief, almost perfunctory—as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her. As if daylight had destroyed the potent alchemy of what had taken place between them during the night, when her body had felt as if it were on fire every time he’d touched her.
A glance at her phone reminded her she had an appointment with Siena Simon, who’d told her to call by the store at noon. But it wasn’t until she had got out of bed that Lina realised her predicament. Her expensive dress lay discarded on the floor—dropped at the exact spot where Salvatore had removed it from her quivering body when they’d returned from the ball. Exquisite lingerie lay scattered alongside the towering pair of shoes she’d been so eager to kick off. She was marooned in Salvatore di Luca’s bedroom with nothing suitable to wear back to her little cottage and through a house which would probably be crawling with staff.
She picked up the cobalt evening dress and quickly put it down again. No way could she wear that in the brightness of the morning. Distractedly, she looked around, thinking maybe she could borrow something of Salvatore’s, and a quick search soon produced a pair of joggers and a faded T-shirt, which carried the name of some band she’d never heard of. The outfit was way too big but at least it was anonymous and Lina rolled up the joggers before quickly gathering together her clothes and tucking them under her arm.
Quietly opening the bedroom door, she cocked her head to listen. The distant hum of the vacuum cleaner sounded a long way off and, judging herself safe, she set off along the corridor, her bare feet making no sound on the bleached wooden floor. She had almost reached the front door when a perfectly modulated English voice almost made her drop her clothes.
‘Good morning, Miss Vitale.’
Composing her face into a fixed smile, Lina turned round to see Henry who was wearing a pair of striped grey trousers and what looked like a black tail-coat, and, not for the first time, thought how uncomfortably hot it must be if you were a butler.
‘Good morning, Henry.’
‘Will you be requiring breakfast? Chef has made fresh pastries and kedgeree and...’
He paused, delicately, and despite Lina’s total lack of experience at handling this type of situation she somehow knew exactly what he meant.
Did the chef usually provide his boss’s lovers with a sumptuous breakfast in one of the two dining rooms, or was it ever served on the terrace?
She gave a weak smile. ‘I’m fine, thanks. I’ll have something back at the cottage.’
‘If you’re sure.’
‘Quite sure.’ She pulled her shoulders back. ‘Thank you, Henry.’
‘Very good, Miss Vitale.’
Lina made her way through the gardens, where legions of staff were pruning, spraying and mowing various patches of lawn. She could see them turning to watch her as she passed and it struck
her how unfair this situation was. You could count on one hand the number of times she’d spent the night with a man, yet this was the second time she’d had to endure a humiliating walk of shame next morning.
But she had nothing to be ashamed of. She might not have Salvatore’s social status or wealth, but last night she’d truly felt as if they had come together as equals. He had trembled when he’d touched her. He had moaned almost helplessly as he had entered her. And when, afterwards, she had whispered her lips over his chest to cover it with tiny, tentative kisses—he had given a low rumble of a laugh and tangled his fingers in her curls and told her she was beautiful. And just like last time he’d said it, he had made her feel beautiful.
Back in her little cottage, she quickly showered and dressed and fished out the three handmade bags she’d brought with her from Sicily, putting them carefully in a canvas tote. Then she let herself out of the cottage and, with the aid of her cell phone, set off to walk downtown to Siena Simon’s store.
She found it with pleasing ease—a large double-fronted building, situated in a pretty tree-lined street. Inside, it was vast and cleverly lit, showcasing some of the designer’s iconic designs, all of them worn by impossibly tall and skinny mannequins. Scattered throughout the room on racks and glass shelves of different heights were handmade shoes and exquisite shoals of jewellery. Everything gave off a costly patina and, in her simple cotton dress, Lina felt self-conscious as a beautiful assistant sashayed towards her, a slightly bemused smile on her face—as if doubtful whether Lina was a bona-fide customer. Which, of course, she wasn’t.
‘May I help you?’
‘I hope so. I’m looking for Siena Simon.’
The assistant’s smile became even more doubtful. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘Well, I met her at a ball last night and she—’
‘It’s okay, Tiffany.’ The drawled words were followed by the appearance of a figure at the back of the store, and suddenly there was Siena Simon dressed in her trademark cream, with a pair of gravity-defying shoes and a choker of pearls at her throat as big as gulls’ eggs. ‘I asked Nicolina to call by today,’ she said, and then smiled. ‘Good to see you again, Nicolina. Did you bring any more of your work with you?’
Rather self-consciously, Lina held up the canvas bag containing her totes. ‘They’re all in here.’
‘Good. Why don’t you come on through to my office and I’ll have Allegra fix us some coffee?’
Lina nodded. ‘Sure.’
The interview which followed was daunting and yet, in a funny kind of way, it was also one of the most rewarding things which had ever happened to her, and when Lina emerged just under an hour later, it was with a feeling of excitement bubbling away inside her. She’d almost dropped to the floor when Siena had informed her just how much she could charge for one of Lina’s little handbags and had instantly agreed to make as many of them as possible. She had a job—of sorts. Wasn’t this the first step on the road to independence?
She wondered what to do next, whether to find herself a sandwich for lunch, or try to hunt down a second-hand sewing machine. She had just decided that the latter option would be the most sensible, when she noticed a tall and powerful man who was walking purposefully along the street.
In her direction.
He was instantly recognisable on so many levels—visual, visceral and emotional. Lina’s heart squeezed as her eyes feasted themselves on the blue-black gleam of his hair and the coiled strength of his muscular physique. She had been trying not to think about him all morning. Trying to concentrate on work and ambition and thoughts of the future and wondering what an independent life would look like. But now that she’d seen him, all those thoughts seemed to crumble away because that was the effect of the strange power he had over her. Lina felt her stomach dissolve as he reached her and for a moment or two it felt as if she’d forgotten how to speak.
‘Salvatore.’ She licked her lips like a starving cat which had just spotted food. ‘This...this is a surprise.’
‘I came to meet you.’
‘But you didn’t know where I’d be.’
‘Obviously, I did, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.’ His blue gaze mocked her. ‘You told me you were going for an interview with Siena—remember?’
Of course she remembered, she was just surprised he had—because hadn’t he seemed more concerned with plunging into her body for the umpteenth time, rather than hearing about her plans for the following day? She looked at him in confusion. ‘But I still don’t understand why you’re here.’
Salvatore wasn’t quite sure about that himself—and felt a flicker of irritation that she’d been gauche enough to draw his attention to it. Because hadn’t the voice of reason warned him against coming here, telling himself to leave it until the end of the day, at least. Telling himself that a few hours’ grace would give him time to untangle himself from the potency of the spell she seemed to have cast over him. And then he’d thought: what the hell? He wanted to have sex with her again and as soon as possible—and judging by the smoky darkening of her eyes, she was feeling it too. ‘I thought we could have lunch.’
‘Lunch?’
‘There’s no need to make it sound as if I’ve made an indecent suggestion. Though I’m perfectly prepared to do that afterwards,’ he murmured. ‘And you’re really going to need to stop blushing like that, Lina.’
‘I can’t help it,’ she whispered. ‘And I haven’t got time for lunch. I have to get hold of a sewing machine.’
‘You can do that later,’ he said firmly. ‘Just get in the car.’
At last it seemed to dawn on her that he wasn’t taking no for an answer, but her stumbling reluctance was surprisingly charming, and as he lifted his hand to summon his car, he could feel lust spearing through him like a hard and relentless arrow. And just as soon as the vehicle moved away, he pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her, her squirming excitement turning him on even more.
He had intended the kiss to be hard and swift—a possessive declaration of his intention to seduce her as soon as they’d eaten. But instead it became a deep and drugging interaction which dragged him down into some dark and silken place, and maybe her hungry response had a lot to do with that. As she curled her fingers around his neck and pressed her breasts against him, his passion for her combusted. His heart was pounding as he realised they had approximately twelve minutes until they reached the restaurant. Time enough for what he wanted. He could slip his hand beneath the hem of her sundress and quickly bring her to a shuddering orgasm before unzipping himself so that she could take him in her mouth as she had done so exquisitely last night. He could tell the driver to keep circling the block until he tapped on the window. It wouldn’t be the first time he had done it.
But somehow, with Lina, it didn’t seem appropriate—and although it was the most difficult thing he’d ever had to resist, he drew away from her and tersely instructed her to smooth down her ruffled hair. As the car drew up near the Embarcadero, he found himself perplexed by his own behaviour, but reassured himself that the wait would be worth it—and a demonstration of his rigid control would not go amiss.
The restaurant was crowded and Lina’s predictable delight on her first sight of the iconic bridge view was pleasing, though she seemed oblivious to the fact that people were turning their heads To look at her, despite the many society beauties who were dotted around the place. Would it have surprised her to know that her naturalness was like a breath of fresh air in the rarefied atmosphere of this famous city eatery? he wondered.
Soon they were seated at his usual table, with crisp linen, crystal and silver laid out before them, as waiters and sommeliers clustered around them. Salvatore ordered lobster and salad, a bottle of cold water and a dish of olives, before leaning back in his chair to study her.
‘It sounds like your interview with Siena went well,’ he observed.
‘I think so.’ She hesitated as she picked up her napkin and shook it out. ‘She asked me lots of questions. How well I knew you. How long I was planning on staying in the city. That sort of thing.’
‘I guess she wants to be sure you’ll stick around if she’s planning on giving you work.’
‘I guess.’ She hesitated. ‘She seemed particularly interested in the fact that I was living with you.’
He frowned. ‘But you made it clear that we’re not actually living together?’
‘Of course I did,’ she said, and hesitated again. ‘It just made me wonder...’
His gaze bored into her. ‘What did it make you wonder, Lina?’
She had started pleating the edge of her napkin now, as if unable to keep her fingers still.
‘If you’d ever been in a relationship with her.’
‘No. I’ve never been in a relationship with Siena,’ he said slowly. ‘Would it bother you if I had?’
Abruptly, she stopped pleating and looked up. ‘It’s nothing to do with me who you’ve had a relationship with.’
‘So you wouldn’t mind if I brought a woman back to the house?’
‘Of course I wouldn’t.’
‘Liar,’ he said softly.
Lina stared at him, shaking out her napkin in an attempt to remove the pleats. She had been finding the whole situation daunting, even before he’d said that. The fancy restaurant with a terrifying amount of cutlery. The other diners, who were watching them while pretending not to—or, rather, watching him. The realisation that once again they had slept together last night and indulged in all kinds of delicious intimacies. And now he had accused her of lying. ‘Excuse me?’
‘It would bother you, Lina. It’s bothering you right now just to think about it—it’s written all over your face. But that’s okay. It’s perfectly normal to feel sexual jealousy in a situation like ours.’
She told herself to leave it. That his use of the word ‘ours’ was not meant to be inclusive and it certainly wasn’t meant to give her hope—and bearing in mind how arrogant he could be, she was amazed that she even wanted to be hopeful where Salvatore di Luca was concerned. But wasn’t it funny how all the reasoning in the world didn’t stop you yearning for something you knew was ultimately futile, so that you came out and asked the question anyway? ‘And what exactly is our...situation?’
Cinderella In The Sicilian's World (HQR Presents) Page 10
