Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ivy’s cheeks burned with shock and shame. The finger that had been poking into Antonio’s firm chest shook as she withdrew it to press it against her lips.
‘I’m… I’m so sorry,’ she said, and would have turned and fled had it not been for the arm that shot out and snared her by the waist, anchoring her, turning her.
Head bent, ‘I should never have said that,’ she confessed.
The vulnerability arcing between them was painful.
Because hadn’t he been right? Wasn’t she afraid of wanting things for herself, only to lose them all over again?
Her home, her security, her sight. But it was more than that.
It was the future. It was the future she’d thought she had.
‘Look at me?’
It was a question, not a demand or a statement in the way he usually offered them.
His voice was harsh, rasping, as if the words had been caught on gravel.
But it was his gaze that undid her. Raw, unfiltered, powerful and…
oh, so expressive. She saw it all. The want, the desire, the contest, and the recognition of truth.
The breath whooshed out of her lungs.
All the energy seemed to pour away from their argument, their fight, and he caught the dip of her head with his own, pressing his forehead against hers in near surrender.
They were perilously close to the line drawn in the sand by their situation.
But there was still time to walk this back. There was still time to leave.
Antonio’s hands flexed around her waist, as if divining her thoughts, preventing her from running away.
Their breaths punched the air between them, she could feel his sharp exhale on her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest and coherent thought fled. She wanted . It was nothing more complicated than that and it was as undefinable. She just wanted…
‘I need to marry Maria,’ Antonio said, but it sounded more like a reminder to them both than an excuse.
‘I know.’
‘I can’t let her down. Not now, not with so much at stake.’
She heard it. Felt the same warring twisting her gut. It was madness to put whatever this was above everything he’d worked for and everything she needed. But oh, God, she wanted to.
‘I understand,’ Ivy said truthfully. ‘I really do.’
She hated that she did, but also knew it was one of the things that she most admired about him.
‘But this…’ he said, raising his head just enough to look her in the eye. ‘But you…’ He trailed off. His hand came to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear and stayed to cup her cheek.
Oh.
The heat of his hand, the feel of it against her skin.
She wanted to lean into it. To take what it offered, to know what it felt like, what he felt like.
She wanted the power of him, the security.
She wanted, needed it, like the way she needed her next breath.
Because if she walked away from this, without knowing what it felt like, she would spend the rest of her life wondering ‘what if’ and she knew exactly how damaging that was.
What if she hadn’t been struck by the cyclist?
What if the first operation had worked? What if her parents had stayed?
‘What ifs’ were torment where regret was pain. But somehow, she knew that, no matter what happened between her and Antonio, she would never regret it.
She ground her teeth together to stop herself from saying as much. He couldn’t be with her. Wouldn’t. So she needed to walk away. She swallowed and turned, but he cursed and, before she could react, he had pulled her back to him and claimed her mouth with his.
The moan of pure want poured from her into him, setting them both ablaze.
He held her to him and she opened for him, without question or hesitation.
She luxuriated in the way his tongue filled her, possessing her completely and utterly in a way she’d never known was even possible.
She clung to him, her hands fisting in his shirt, a passion, an untapped femininity unleashed. Just for him. Just by him.
Her body flared with a single united pulse as he took her under his control.
Mindless and dizzy, she didn’t fear the sensations; he would catch her if she fell. Oh, not for ever, not beyond this. She wasn’t na?ve enough to hope for more. But this was what she wanted. No regrets. No doubts.
This.
Him.
Antonio tried to hold onto the twisting wildfire that Ivy became in his hands, but could only touch and grasp.
He didn’t know who had been more shocked by the kiss, him or Ivy, but once that first barrier had been breached, once his lips had tasted hers, there was no going back. Not unless she willed it.
But for him? It was like finding something he’d never known he’d lost. Yet at the same time it was like being found. And then Ivy’s gasp reached deep within him and put an end to any kind of coherent thought.
He walked them into the house without breaking the kiss. It wasn’t as if there were prying eyes, but he needed…wanted… He prised open an eye and aimed for the side table.
He lifted her onto it, pushing between her legs, relishing the way she leaned forward into him.
Here, not anywhere else, but here she fought him and matched him with every kind of fervour he could think to want for.
Powerful, demanding, utterly unrestrained, it was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen or experienced.
‘Agata?’ Ivy asked against his lips, not even the thought of his housekeeper enough to bring a halt to her desire.
‘Away. All of them are away,’ he said of the staff.
Her hand swept into his hair, short nails scraping gently against his scalp as her mouth opened even more for him to possess.
Harder than he’d ever been in his life, he needed more, more, more.
The refrain pulsed through his veins maddeningly.
But just as he was reconciling himself with the idea of slowing things down, Ivy yanked the shirt from his trousers and cool little hands swept over his sensitive skin.
His body reacted instinctively, his hands reaching around her to pull her firmly against the hard length of him.
Ivy, leaning back against the wall, stared at him with eyes so carnal, so lustful, so damn wanton he would never, for as long as he lived, forget her like that.
‘Incredible…’ The word fell from his lips and her eyes glowed.
He throbbed for her and never, not even as an untested youth had he felt so helpless to stop himself. But he would. For her. Because she had to understand. She had to know. And even if it would put an end to things right now, he would still ask her. She had to have power in that.
‘Ivy, this changes nothing,’ he confessed, forcing himself to look her in the eye.
‘I know. And I still don’t want to stop,’ she said, meeting his gaze, understanding and determination clear in her eyes.
‘Are you sure? Because—’
‘If you’re going to tell me I can change my mind, stop at any time, I appreciate that, Antonio, I really do.
But,’ she said, her body quivering as she inhaled, ‘I want this. I want a few spectacular weeks —the ones we never had when we first married,’ she said, referring to the lie that they had carved from reality.
‘It will only be days, Ivy. We have so little time.’
‘I still want them,’ she said, a plea in her gaze.
Antonio’s breath caught in his throat. Because he wanted them too. With a ferocity that should have scared him. And perhaps if he hadn’t been half out of his mind with lust, he might have listened to that fear. But instead, he was helpless to resist.
‘Then your wish is my command.’
Her body leaned instinctively towards his, but he shook his head slowly as he raked his gaze over her. Hair dishevelled, lips kiss-bruised, breasts heaving with every inhale—breasts he would come back to, he vowed—but he knew where he needed to be.
His fingers flexed around the backs of her knees and palmed smooth thighs as he ruched the material of her skirt. His eyes on hers caught the moment she realised—caught the anticipation, the shock, the want.
‘Is this okay?’ he asked, sinking to his knees.
She swallowed and nodded, and he doubted she even realised how her tongue came out to sweep across her bottom lip, before pinning it with her teeth. He hid his smile. He’d help her find her voice, even if it was the only thing he could do for her before they parted.
Cazzo , she was beautiful.
He loved watching her every thought pulse in her eyes, her every want. And yes, she wanted this, but not as much as he wanted to do it.
Gently lifting her legs over his shoulders, he settled between them and, unable to wait, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her core. She shifted restlessly around him, her knickers soaked now from both sides, the faint taste of her on his tongue not even beginning to be enough.
He teased her, thumb pressing against her entrance, blocked by the thin cotton barrier, driving them both wild, until he couldn’t take it any more. Too impatient, he simply moved her panties aside and claimed her with his mouth.
Gasps of pleasure filled the large hallway, melting into moans. His fingers massaged her thighs as he drew his tongue in one long strike across the length of her core, before he teased the little bundle of nerves that drove her wild around him.
He hummed his own pleasure against her delicate flesh as she writhed for him.
He hooked his thumb against her entrance, pulling down so very gently, before turning his hand and teasing her with his forefinger.
She arched forward, away from the wall, and he reached a hand up to hold her back, his palm flattening on her sternum between her breasts.
She was delicious. Everything about her was a damn delicacy.
A second finger joined the first, and he filled her and teased her with his tongue and his hands. Her pleas became desperate, her moans like music to his ears as he drew her closer and closer to a peak he could almost taste.