A Sicilian Husband

The protest was accompanied by a smoothing movement of her hands from her ribcage, down and over her waist.

‘Don’t tempt me!’

If anyone was tempting, then it was her. That gesture had been designed to draw attention to the feminine curves of her shape, the swell of her breasts and the hips that were just barely visible before the flow of the tablecloth covered them. And just the thought of his own hands tracing the path that her fingers had taken made his body clench in cruelly hungry desire.

‘Your figure is quite perfect, and you know it.’

He had given up on any attempt to pretend that he was interested in eating. Even the rich red wine was ignored, his half-full glass abandoned, his attention wholly on her.

‘You don’t have to fish for compliments.’

‘I wasn’t…’

‘Of course not.’

There was something about his smile that caught on her nerves, but she couldn’t focus her thinking enough to try and decide just what it was. She felt as if that dark-eyed gaze, his irises more black than brown in the shadowy candlelight, was an intangible force, holding her mesmerised and unable to move.

‘But it doesn’t matter. You can have all the compliments you want.’

‘I—I can?’

His proud head nodded slowly, black eyes locking with grey-blue.

‘What would you like me to say? That you are beautiful? Believe me, you are. That your skin has the delicate softness of a perfect peach?’

That he couldn’t wait to strip the clinging top from her body, expose the creamy flesh it covered, feast his eyes and his hands, his mouth…?

‘That your eyes are the colour of a dove’s wing and every bit as—’

‘Oh, stop! Stop it!’ Terrie cried, mortified into leaning forward and catching hold of his hand in order to shut him up. ‘You’re going way over the top.’

‘You don’t believe me?’

Embarrassed beyond speech, she could only shake her head emphatically, sending the pale cloud of hair flying.

‘You’re flattering—’

‘I never flatter.’

His tone stopped her dead, making her blink in confusion.

A single strand of wheat-coloured hair had caught at the corner of her soft pink mouth and, leaning across the table, he reached out and eased it free again. But once he had the silky lock in his hand he didn’t release it but lingered, slowly twisting the delicate strands round and round his finger until she was forced to incline her head even closer to him, to avoid him tugging on her scalp.

‘Never…’ he murmured, his mouth seeming only inches away from her own. And the look in his eyes, the unconcealed passion that burned there, was positively indecent in such a public place.

Twice Terrie swallowed hard, vainly struggling to ease the dryness in her throat. Twice she opened her lips, trying to speak, but no sound would come out.

The rest of the room seemed to have faded into a buzzing haze, the murmured voices of the diners, the faint clatter of plates, the clink of glasses all blurring into one indecipherable mass. But in Terrie’s mind, or at least the part of it that would focus, there was only herself and this sensually devastating man before her.

Releasing the pale strand of hair, Gio tucked it back behind her ear with a gentleness that wrenched at something in her heart. And the path that his hand had traced burned against her skin like a mark he had left there, a brand that said she was his and his alone. It would be totally invisible to the naked eye, but she would always know it was there—and so would he.

‘Remember that…I never flatter.’

His dark gaze dropped to where her hand still lay on his, looking pale and delicate in contrast to the tanned power of his fingers. Twisting his hand in hers so that they were palm to palm, he linked his fingers with hers, smoothing his thumb softly over her skin.

‘So, no sweet,’ he said, reverting to the conversation of moments before. ‘Coffee? A liqueur?’

‘C-coffee would be nice.’

Somehow she forced her tongue to work, wincing inwardly when she heard the way that it croaked and fractured at the end of the sentence.

‘We’ll take it in the lounge.’

It was a command, not a suggestion, and she could only nod a silent acquiescence to the tone of his voice.

He didn’t release her hand as they stood up, but kept his fingers locked with hers, pulling her to his side as soon as she had moved clear of the table. With his free hand he scooped up the discarded red jacket, tossing it over his arm, barely waiting for her to collect her handbag before he headed towards the door out of the restaurant.

She knew how he felt, Terrie reflected shakenly. She shared that sudden need to be somewhere quieter, less public—more intimate. The thoughts that were in her head, the feelings that his words and his touch had triggered off, were not at all appropriate for the public rooms of a big London hotel. She felt sure that the sensual inferno raging in her blood must be etched onto her face, stamped onto her forehead in letters of fire for all to read. Even if they found the darkest, the most secluded corner of the lounge, she suspected that the heat of the yearning that had her in its grip must radiate from her, scorching anyone who passed.

But if they had wanted peace and quiet, as soon as they entered the lounge she saw that they would be disappointed. The comfortable chairs and cushioned settees dotted around the huge room were all occupied. Almost all the guests who had eaten in the restaurant had chosen to take their coffee here, and they looked as if they planned to linger late into the evening.

‘We’re out of luck.’ Gio’s tone was flat, unrevealing of what he was thinking.

Perhaps they were in luck. Terrie swallowed, made herself speak before her nerve broke completely.

‘Do you think they would bring the coffee to our—to my—your room?’

Such simple words but she almost felt the reverberations that followed from them echoing through the room, making the floor suddenly unsteady beneath her feet. And Gio’s sudden silence, the total stillness of his long body beside her, made it clear that he was thinking much the same thing.

‘It would be quieter—more private.’

‘Is that what you want?’

He was watching her again, waiting for her reply. But all Terrie’s strength had deserted her, along with her ability to speak. She could only nod silently, unable to put into words the way she was feeling.

She didn’t care if it was foolish, if it was the craziest, the most rash decision she had ever made. Ruthlessly she pushed aside the protesting cries of her offended sense of self-preservation, the promptings of innate caution. It didn’t matter what the end result would be, what risks she was running. She only knew that she couldn’t let this evening end now, here, in this public room. She couldn’t let this man go, walk out of her life, without seeing just how far this unexpected relationship might go.

She knew she would regret it for the rest of her life if she did.

So she nodded again, more firmly this time, and wetted her painfully dry lips, praying that her voice would obey her this time.

‘Yes,’ she said rawly, thankful that at least she could speak even if the word sounded horribly rough round the edges. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I want.’

CHAPTER FOUR (#u0da0b18d-29ce-59a8-8d6d-dd706a4875be)

THE lift doors had barely closed before he reached for her.

Terrie could still hear the rumble of the heavy metal moving across the empty space, the sound of the engine starting up, as Gio’s hands closed about her arms, pulling her to him. And the slight jolting of the enclosed compartment as it lurched into motion threw her even harder up against his strong frame, her face buried in his shoulder.