Chapter 3 #2
At least five years spent dreaming of making Siena his.
Imagining the feel of her lips and the taste of her mouth.
The texture of her skin and her hair. Five years spent watching from afar as she moved deeper and deeper into the shadowed world, slowly but surely emerging as a significant player in her own right.
Gaining, in her own right, that most elusive of things needed for success in their world – respect.
She could have stepped into her father’s shoes and become a Donatella, and no one would have batted an eyelid.
The times they’d come across each other in Naples’ clubs, Elio had known damn well that she’d been as aware of him as he’d been aware of her.
From that very first look, their eyes would find each other.
She was always the first to look away, disdain large on her beautiful face…
but her stare would always find his again.
Meeting her in the flesh and not just from the far side of a club for the first time had been an experience like no other.
Up close, Siena was a pocket-sized, voluptuous dynamo who crackled with energy.
She’d taken her seat at the table of the neutral bar they’d agreed to meet at, and when those soft blue eyes had met his, her loathing of him had been strong enough to touch.
If he hadn’t already known he would have his way in marrying her, that look would have assured it.
He’d never doubted that she would acquiesce to his demand of marriage. Never had any doubt she would lie in this bed with him.
And now she was his wife and in his bed and he’d tasted her kisses. Felt the heat of her body. Felt the weighty softness of her breasts crushed against his chest.
By this time tomorrow, the woman he desired and loathed more than he’d ever felt either emotion would be his in every way possible. What made the anticipation taste even sweeter was the knowledge that, for all that Siena despised him, his desire for her was a two-way street.
His poor wife. When she seduced him, she would have to suffer the indignity of actually enjoying it.
He could almost – almost – feel sorry for her.
* * *
Siena crept out of bed and treaded silently to the bathroom. Elio was still deep in sleep. With any luck, he would spend the rest of his hateful life sleeping. She didn’t imagine she would ever sleep deeply again.
There was no lock on the bathroom door, so she hastily stripped her pyjamas off and dived into the shower, washing her hair and body in super quick time.
It was only when she’d brushed her teeth that she realised she’d been so intent on getting in and out of the bathroom before Elio woke that she’d not brought any clothes in to change into.
Making sure the towel was tight around her, she opened the door as quietly as she could and tiptoed out, only to glance at the bed and find Elio wide awake, propped against the headboard, tapping away on his phone.
“Good morning, wife,” he said, his gaze flicking to her. “You’re up early.”
“I’ve got a busy day,” she answered shortly, opening the dressing room door.
“We’re newlyweds. We should be doing nothing but screwing each other’s brains out.”
She made no effort to hide her disgust. “It will be a cold day in hell before that happens.” She wasn’t quick enough at slamming the door shut not to hear his mocking laughter.
The dressing room was spacious. While Siena had been marrying the bastard, the bastard’s staff had unpacked all her clothes, putting everything away in the section of the dressing room the bastard had turned over for her use.
Alone but acutely aware the bastard was only on the other side of the door, she kept her back to the door and hurriedly stepped into the first pair of knickers that came to hand. She’d just yanked the straps of her bra up when the door opened, and he strode in.
“I require privacy,” she said through gritted teeth, and though her back was to him, only just resisted the compulsion to cover her breasts.
If Elio learned she’d never been with a man, it would be nothing but another weapon in his arsenal against her.
He’d wanted to break her blameless cousin, so God knew what he’d do to Siena if he found out she was just as big a virgin.
“And I require a good morning kiss from my wife.”
She yanked an emerald shirt-dress off the rail and punched her arms through the sleeves before pulling it over her head. “This wife doesn’t do good morning kisses.”
She felt the air move around her before hands clasped her hips and a mouth nuzzled into her neck. “One kiss before I shower.”
Despising the tingles racing through her skin and the heating of her veins, she clenched her jaw even tighter.
It was that damned good night kiss that had stopped her sleeping. Of everything that could have played on her mind, it was the sensations his kisses had evoked in her that had plagued her excuse of a sleep.
“One kiss and you’ll leave me alone?” He’d kept to his word last night. The problem was that damned kiss was a lot more than she’d expected or prepared herself for. God, she could still feel his tongue against hers. Where it should have been laden with spikes, it had felt like silk.
He laughed softly and kissed the arch of her neck. “Yes, my beautiful wife, one kiss and I will leave you alone… For now.”
Hating that her pelvis was stirring in anticipation, she put her best poker face on and turned around. Instinct already telling her he was naked, she stared stonily at his face. She had no wish to see below his chin, especially not below his waist.
That was another thing that had plagued her thoughts. The feel of his hardness against the top of her thigh. It should have repulsed her, but it hadn’t, and that was as shaming to her pride as the reluctant admittance that the sensations of his kiss had been… Not unpleasant.