Dark Angel Page 18

  ‘This is my fantasy but I can promise you that you are about to receive more pleasure than you have ever dreamed of…trust me, bella mia.’

  Kerry was trembling. As the fourth button gave, she saw his molten golden gaze drop to the flimsy white bra which only accentuated the prominent pink buds below the lace. Her own sense of anticipation was so intense she was ashamed and she shut her eyes tight, for she was a total slave to the treacherous, maddening ache between her thighs that only he could satisfy. The dress fell away from her warm, damp skin and she hovered in an agony of expectation, the rose falling forgotten from her flexing fingers.

  ‘You can’t wait…I like that,’ Luciano savoured. ‘But I will make you wait.’

  Her dazed blue eyes opened on him, her pupils darkened, dilated.

  While Luciano surveyed her with possessive satisfaction, the surge of his own desire gripped him with almost painful intensity. A delicate beauty in silk lingerie, finally his to enjoy, and nothing had ever felt so good or given him such a raw sexual buzz. One provocative glimpse of her slender, quivering body adorned only in narrow bands of lace prevented him from lingering on the uneasy acknowledgement that it was taking him longer to work her out of his system than he had foreseen. He reminded himself that he was in Tuscany to unwind and he was taking time out from the real world only to lose himself in pure erotic pleasure. And never had the pursuit of pleasure exercised greater appeal than it did at that moment.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m standing here like this…’ Kerry was already shocked by the discovery that it was a turn-on to be half-naked in front of him while he remained fully dressed in his business suit.

  ‘Not for long…’ Luciano pushed the cups of her bra out of his path and teased her straining nipples with expert fingers until she moaned out loud. He could feel the tiny little ripples of desire pulsing through her taut frame. Suddenly he didn’t want the fantasy, the stupid, impractical fantasy of having her every which way on the stairs, he wanted to carry her upstairs and make love to her in a bed where he could torture her at length in comfort. In defiance of that weakness, he clamped her to him and let his tongue penetrate between her eagerly parted lips with a hungry need to imprint himself on her that was already threatening to rise out of his control.

  Kerry was dizzy with longing, weak with desire. She had surrendered all self-will before he even got her dress off. When he let his fingertips skim a provocative sweep of the thin, taut expanse of lace between her trembling thighs, she jerked and cried out, for the slick, wet heat of her feminine core was unbearably sensitive to his merest touch. Her breath sobbing in her throat, she clutched at him with desperate hands to stay upright and buried her burning face in his shoulder.

  ‘Please…’

  He decided that he would do the staircase scenario some other time, scooped her off her feet and carried her on up to the gilded double doors that provided an entrance to the master bedroom off the landing.

  ‘You make me weak,’ Kerry confided unsteadily.

  Luciano tensed at that word that had always had the power to fill him with rare unease. He was always waiting for weakness of some kind to make a sneak attack on him and he knew he would waste no time in rooting it out like the sickness it was. But wanting to spend at least six non-stop weeks in bed with Kerry was just rampant lust, perfectly normal for a sex-starved male, not a sign that he was getting unhealthily hooked on her again. And by the time he left Tuscany in—what?—maybe three, four months, he would be fully cured of the belief that she had any appeal whatsoever. Reassured by that conviction, he stood over her, pitched off his jacket and pulled off his shirt to expose his impressive, hair-roughened pectorals and sleek, smooth brown stomach.

  ‘Weak…weak…weak,’ Kerry mumbled in helpless addition.

  ‘Stop saying that,’ Luciano commanded in a raw undertone.

  When he chose that same moment to discard his boxer shorts, she stretched back against the pillows and just burned for him. He came down beside her, all thrusting masculine heat and driving energy, but he lay kissing her with loads of arousing restraint. He closed her hand round his bold, smooth shaft and groaned out loud and shuddered when she explored him with an unashamed hunger that she found insanely exciting. But then she found everything that he did next and every move that he made even in response to her insanely exciting.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Luciano confessed raggedly.

  She was way beyond talking, on an edge so high that when he finally plunged into her the flood of glorious pleasure shockwaving through her took her by storm. She hit a peak very fast, drowned for long, timeless moments of bliss in her own helpless release. But before she could even begin to recover, he flipped her limp length over, tugged her up on her knees and slowly, smoothly entered her again without even losing his pagan rhythm. She could not believe what she was allowing him to do but her own excitement triumphed over her. ‘We shouldn’t—’

  ‘I have to,’ Luciano growled and sooner rather than later he sent her over the edge of ecstasy all over again and any urge to reason with him evaporated.

  When the world had settled again, Kerry lay in his arms and let her eyes drift blissfully shut while he tried to keep her awake. ‘It’s supposed to be guys who fall asleep—’

  ‘Have a free ego trip. You’re way too lively for me,’ Kerry mumbled.

  ‘I could keep going all night. This is all I’ve thought about since that first night with you, cara mia.’

  She uttered a sleepy laugh. ‘Surely not—’

  ‘Every minute on the minute. I’ve been obsessed. It can only be because five years back, you’re the one that got away…’ Luciano admitted as the sheer seductive power of his own relaxation took over.

  Kerry froze.

  Appreciating too late what he had let slip, Luciano framed a soundless swear word above her head.

  ‘It’s the same for me,’ Kerry whispered back sweet as saccharine and felt the big, powerful length of him tauten against her. ‘I knew you had a reputation for being good at this caper, and at twenty-six years old I thought it was time I—’

  ‘No, you didn’t. Don’t cheapen yourself by talking like that!’ Luciano grated angrily. ‘Virgins don’t think that way—’

  ‘How would you know?’

  Luciano thought about that and frustration made him simmer like oil in a boiling cauldron. He just knew he was special to her but to say so might suggest that he was arrogant, which he knew he was not. ‘I know…OK?’

  Kerry was very pale. So, on his terms, she was the one who had got away, was she? The only woman he had not scored with? Could Luciano be that caveman basic? She decided he might well be. Pulling free of him in hurt rejection, she scrambled out of bed. Making for the first door her tearful gaze lit on, she found herself in a bathroom and hurtled thankfully into the shelter of the shower cubicle. She remembered the rose he had given her, the reference to the fantasy, and a rueful smile tinged her lips. He was telling her stuff that once he would never have told her. Some of it was bound to be total rubbish, wasn’t it?

  Luciano groaned out loud. Why was she the only female he blew it with on a regular basis? He sprang out of bed, went through one of the other two doors available and discovered that there were two adjoining bathrooms. That infuriated him because it would not be cool to insist on sharing a shower with her when there was no need to do so. When he returned to the bedroom, Kerry was back in bed pretending to be asleep. He decided to settle for that, for she was at least still within reach.

  When he wakened at some timeless hour of the night, disorientated and in the grip of his usual nightmares, Kerry had both arms wrapped round him. ‘Where do you go in those dreams of yours?’ she whispered.

  He breathed in deep and slowly exhaled again. ‘Back to that cell eight feet wide by ten feet deep—’

  ‘It was…that small?’ She sounded shocked.

  ‘I had to share it too…no big deal.’ Luciano strove hard for a macho shrug of indifference even when his
heart was still thumping with sick fear in his chest.

  That must have been torture for a loner who had always cherished privacy, Kerry reflected painfully. In the darkness, her eyes were wet. ‘If you’d phoned me or written to me just one time, just one line, even one word—’

  Luciano froze and yanked himself free of her embrace. ‘Per meraviglia! Why would I have wanted to do that?’

  ‘Are you planning to punish me forever?’

  He raised himself against the pillows. ‘I’m not punishing you…What do you think I am? A cross little boy?’

  Sometimes his emotional responses seemed disturbingly similar. He lived in rigorous denial of his own anger and pain, she thought ruefully. That anger and pain got to leap out of his subconscious and attack him only while he slept. Silence fell. The gap between them widened. When she wakened soon after eight, she was alone.

  A maid brought her fruit, fresh baked rolls and coffee while she sat at a shaded stone table out on the terrace. A glorious new day had dawned to display the colourful living tapestry of the Tuscan countryside. She could see fields of waving green grain and golden rape interspersed with silvery green olive groves and orchards. Here and there rows of fresh lime-green grape vines marched up the slopes with geometric exactitude, but the valley still rejoiced in dense tracts of natural woodland.

  She was finishing her breakfast when a phone was brought to her.

  ‘Good morning,’ her sister, Misty, declared chirpily, making Kerry sit up straight with a frown of surprise.

  ‘How did you know where I was? How did you even get this phone number?’

  ‘Do I have to confess to being a snoop?’ Misty groaned in comical apology. ‘We spent years looking for you and we really would die if we lost track of you now! Will you give me some tips in advance of meeting Grandpa and Grandma? I’ve heard this vague rumour that our grandparents may be rather individual personalities.’

  Involuntarily, Kerry smiled. ‘That’s not a rumour.’

  Almost an hour passed while she talked to her sister. When the call ended, Kerry was amazed that they had chatted for so long without any awkwardness. But then, Luciano’s name had not been mentioned once. She was convinced, however, that once he allowed her sisters to buy back the castle, their hostility towards him would vanish. Was it disloyal of her to still want to get to know her siblings even though they had threatened Luciano? Presumably, though, there would be no further threats. How loyal ought she to be to a male who had yet to utter a caring word to her? Without further hesitation she decided that she was right to pursue further contact with her sisters.

  Mid-morning, Luciano strode out onto the terrace. Faded denim jeans hugged his long, powerful thighs, a casual aqua shirt accentuating his bronzed skin. He sank down in a fluid motion into the seat beside hers. Lean, handsome features taut, bright eyes veiled, he set another white rosebud down on the table-top next to her hand. She glanced at it, then ignored the offering with pointed determination. In a sudden movement, Luciano leant forward, curved one hand to the nape of her neck to entrap her and brought his sensual mouth down in hungry appeal on hers. Her body tightened and tingled, terrifingly eager to respond.

  He lifted his proud dark head again. ‘I went out very early. The vines are beautiful at dawn when the dew rises off the ground like a mist…tomorrow morning I’ll take you out with me.’

  Grapevines at dawn…how could she resist such an invitation?

  The rose, the kiss, the vines, all evasion tactics to keep her from discussing more controversial topics. ‘Last night—’ Kerry dared unsteadily.

  Before she could say any more, Luciano closed his hand over hers. ‘I just want to be with you…’

  Warmth enclosed her, squeezed out her fears and insecurity. He had said enough to soothe her. She told him about Misty’s phone call. ‘I expect she’ll stay in touch. Do you mind?’

  A stark little silence fell.

  His strong jawline clenched. ‘Why would I?’

  Luciano had already spent a day and a half ring-fencing his companies from potential threats. After all, come hell or high water, he had no intention of selling Ballybawn to her sisters but he saw no reason to worry Kerry with that announcement. Her desire to communicate with her siblings and satisfy her curiosity was natural. Rationally he knew and accepted that but he was not happy about it. He was already convinced that her sisters would do everything within their power to destroy his relationship with her.

  ‘Why do you never mention the case you’re still pursuing to clear your name?’ Kerry asked him then.

  His keen gaze hardened. ‘What’s to mention? To have the case retried, I need new evidence. I have investigators working on it but it is five years since that money was syphoned out of the accounts. It was a neat and clever scam and the culprits have had a long time to cover their tracks. It will be difficult to find a fresh lead—’

  ‘You think there was more than one person involved?’

  ‘It’s possible.’ Aware that she was still very much in contact with Miles, Luciano regretted even saying that much.

  ‘You know, Miles suspects my cousin, Steven,’ Kerry confided.

  Thinking about wimpy Steven, Luciano almost laughed out loud, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. An honest, straightforward woman was a pearl beyond price and that was Kerry, for she could not recognise cunning in others. Without hesitation she had repeated what Miles had undoubtedly primed her to repeat. How could he ever have believed that Kerry could have been involved in framing him for his prison term? Now he could only smile at the very idea. But Miles had severely underestimated Luciano’s intelligence when he had used Kerry as a vehicle for his misinformation campaign.

  Luciano plucked yet another ripe cherry from the neglected tree and crouched down to dangle the succulent fruit just within reach of Kerry’s juice-stained lips. ‘I’m sure you can manage one more, bella mia.’

  Stretching up, Kerry swiped the cherry from his lean, elegant fingers with her mouth. ‘You tempt me…’

  ‘Temptation is the spice of life.’ Luciano flung himself back down on the rug spread in the shade and leant over her, slumberous golden eyes pinned to her with mockery. ‘Don’t you dare fall asleep on me again. I could set a clock by your naps. At midday, off again late afternoon, dead to the world before midnight. What happened to the livewire who used to get by on a few hours a night?’

  ‘Obviously endless sunshine makes even livewires sleepy.’ Kerry blamed the summer heat for her unusual tiredness.

  For three glorious weeks, day after sun-drenched day at the Villa Contarini had dawned fresher and brighter than the last. The sky above would seem a more heavenly blue and the sun would drench the fertile earth with ever more golden warmth. She was wonderfully, wildly happy just to be with Luciano. That lean dark-angel face of his made her very heart lurch with longing and as he was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes in the morning and the last at night, how could she be anything other than blissfully content?

  The Villa Contarini had shaken off all the gloom that she had once found daunting. Curtains had been thrown back to let the light flood in, windows flung wide and all the doors lay open on to the terraces. Informality ruled. Cushions were often tumbled on the floor, for lovers had no interest in sitting on antique sofas twenty feet apart, and meals were eaten at odd hours and most often in the fresh air.

  By day, Luciano had shown Kerry all the places he remembered from his childhood. He had begun by taking her to see his former home and he had been disconcerted to find the old farmhouse lying in ruins. That he and his mother should have been evicted all those years ago only for the house to lie empty and unused angered him. On their return to the villa, he had had his father’s portrait taken down from the wall.

  ‘Santo cielo. I thought in time I might be able to look at him, at least acknowledge who he was,’ Luciano had confessed in a ravaged undertone that night. ‘But I can’t even do that. We had so little but even that he took from us to prot
ect his name from gossip and he got away with it because we were powerless.’

  ‘Don’t even think about him.’ Kerry had curved round his lean, muscular frame in sympathy, hurting for him, wondering why she had never appreciated that anyone who felt anything as deeply as he did had to be much more vulnerable than he might seem on the surface.

  Exploring the extensive Contarini estate often on foot had been very enjoyable. She had not cared where they went or what they did as long as he was with her, and he was very energetic. The designer clothes he had bought her got laughably dirty, torn and stained while they roamed through the woods, climbed over fences and tumbledown walls and picnicked in fields. In the evening, however, they often ate out in exclusive restaurants in Siena. Then she would see other women look at his bold, bronzed profile and lithe, powerful physique with a frank appreciation and sexual avidity that scared her. For Luciano never mentioned love, the future or even the past that they had once shared, and she soon realised that without even one of those important elements insecurity was to be her lot in life with him.

  Most mornings he dragged her out of bed early to tour the vineyard with him. She thought all wine tasted like nasty medicine and had never been interested in how the grapes made it from the vines into the bottles, but she was really pleased that he should want to share his interest with her. Shamefully, however, what lingered longest in Kerry’s memory was the passionate excitement of making love with him in a dusty cellar below the winery, her wild cries of pleasure silenced by his marauding mouth.

  Occasionally he would leave her alone for an hour or two while he caught up with business. When they were apart, Kerry spent virtually every minute on the phone. If she wasn’t chatting to Miles, she was chatting to one of her sisters. That first call from Misty had soon been followed by others from Freddy and Ione. Kerry was getting acquainted with her siblings through their daily phone conversations. But she found herself trying to conceal from Luciano the sheer frequency of the calls they exchanged, for she could not help feeling that, in getting on like a house on fire with them, she was being disloyal to him.