Читать книгу Hot Christmas Nights: Shameful Secret, Shotgun Wedding / His for Revenge / Mistletoe Not Required - Anne Oliver, Anne Oliver - Страница 9

GIANCARLO’s bedroom was vast. Big and intimidating as an ocean—so that for a moment Cassie felt like a tiny little raft bobbing around in unknown territory, unsure which direction to take. Down on his terrace where he had been kissing her and kissing her until their breath had mingled and they had been wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, she had felt no qualms. As he had tangled his fingers in the spill of her hair beneath the rising moon she had felt as though she had found her place in the world. A magical place which was governed by feeling and by the irresistible lure of the senses.

But then the kissing had become more frantic. She had felt the urgent clamour of her body and dimly recognised the growing need in his. And that had been the moment when he had stopped kissing her, his lips moving instead to her ear.

‘If we don’t stop this right now, mia bella, then I will take you right here—and I think we should be more comfortable for our first time together, don’t you?’

The sexual declaration had been stark, and it should have been scary—especially for someone of Cassie’s experience. But her heart had been pounding so wildly and her body so tense and trembling with desire for him that she hadn’t been able to do anything other than nod and let him take her by the hand as he had done at the very start of the evening. Only this time he led her through the huge and echoing house—up the majestic sweep of a mighty staircase to his bedroom.

And now that she was here, Cassie was suddenly filled with nerves at the thought of what was about to happen. That maybe she would disappoint him. Or that he would think she had capitulated much too easily. And she had, hadn’t she?

‘Cassandra, bella.’ Sensing her restraint, he pulled her back into his arms and tilted her face upwards, stroking away a bright strand of hair which had fallen over her cheek as he looked down at her. ‘You have changed your mind? You don’t want me?’

What could she say? Cross her fingers and tell a lie? Could she really bear to do that—shrug her shoulders with embarrassment and say she’d got a little carried away and had changed her mind?

Because he would let her. He might not have told her anything about his life or his work or his dreams, but something told Cassie that he was not only honourable enough to let her go—but proud enough never to ask her back again. And she would spend the rest of her life asking herself the most painful question of all. What if?

‘Yes, I want you,’ she whispered.

Giancarlo smiled as he felt the rush of uncomplicated pleasure. ‘Then isn’t it convenient that I happen to want you, too?’ he questioned unsteadily. ‘Do you want to know how much?’

‘Giancarlo…’ Her eyes closed as his mouth drifted down to the hollow above her shoulder blade.

‘This much.’

She moaned as his hand cupped her breast over the soft material of her dress and then found the side-zip of her dress and slid it down—his lips grazing over hers in erotic dance all the while. And she moaned again as he peeled the garment over her head and she felt the rush of air to her partially bare skin. Because suddenly she was standing there in her underwear—her nipples peaking and her thighs tingling. Her body was on fire and she was clinging to him as his lips and his hands trailed pure delight over her skin. Should she warn him? she wondered dazedly.

She swallowed as his palms cupped her bottom and he pulled her closer. ‘Giancarlo—’

‘I want to study you,’ he murmured. ‘I want to examine every inch of you—to know you so well that if I were to take an exam about your body then I would get full marks. But the trouble is that my desire for you is so great that I think we might have to postpone that pleasure until later,’ he declared, his voice thick with desire as he guided her trembling fingers to his shirt buttons. Because it had been a long time, he realised. A long time since he had wanted a woman as much as this. ‘Undo my shirt.’

Her hands were trembling so much that it felt like an almost impossible task—until her first encounter with the silky texture of his flesh. And suddenly her doubts melted away and she became greedy. Like a prospector who had suddenly found an abundance of gold, Cassie found herself wanting to run her fingers all over his hair-roughened torso. She felt him twist slightly as she ran her fingertips over his flesh, heard him give a little laugh as she touched each of his diamond-hard nipples.

‘You are making me forget the reason I brought you up here,’ he growled. ‘Which was to take you to bed.’ And, picking her up, he carried her across the room to the biggest bed Cassie had ever seen.

He laid her down upon it, his dark eyes not leaving hers as he pulled off his clothes—until he was wearing nothing but a pair of dark silk boxer shorts. Cassie could see the flagrant ridge at the front of them and suddenly she began to shiver. This was really happening—and she was letting it happen. Should she tell him? Wasn’t it wrong not to tell him?

‘You tremble. You are cold?’ he murmured. This was asked as he joined her, dragging a huge coverlet over them and pulling her close against his warm body.

‘N-no, I’m not cold.’

‘Me, neither. In fact, I think we are both wearing too much, don’t you? Shall we do something about that?’ Unclipping her bra, he tossed it aside and then began to slide her panties down over her thighs, his fingertips whispering enticing little paths along the way, which made her gasp. And then he removed his boxers—edged them off with his feet and gave a shuddering sigh as he felt her nakedness next to his. How long had it been since he had lain with a woman? Long enough for his breath to catch strangely in his throat with an odd sense of discovery as he stroked her delicate skin.

He looked down at her—at the way her long, blonde hair lay spread out over his pillow like a silken cloud. At the curved, feminine body—with its luscious breasts and rounded hips. She was like a goddess, he thought. Yet a goddess who was giving herself to him with sweet abandon. ‘You are beautiful, Cassandra,’ he murmured. ‘And I am a lucky man.’

‘Kiss me,’ she whispered.

Softly, his mouth came down and covered hers. He could feel her body melting into his, her fingers tangling in his hair and the increasingly restless movement of her hips as the kiss deepened. At last he lifted his head and traced the outline of her lips with the tip of his finger. ‘Don’t go away.’

Her eyes opened wide in alarm as he pulled away from her. ‘Where…where are you going?’

‘Not far.’

He had leaned across the bed to pull something from the drawer of a gleaming antique table—and it was only when he had ripped the packet open and begun to slide on a condom that Cassie realised what he was doing.

Tell him.

Tell him.

But now he was moving over her and kissing her again and it all seemed so perfect—and wouldn’t it break the mood if she came right out and told him? With a groan and a whispering of her name, he parted her legs and she could feel the rocky tip of him pushing against her molten heat.

‘Giancarlo—’

‘Sì?’ he breathed raggedly.

‘It’s…it’s my first time,’ she gasped, just as he thrust inside her.

Giancarlo shuddered—but he was in too deep to stop, even as he felt her tense and her nails dig into his shoulders. And even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have stopped. Not if the world had been about to end. Or maybe that was what was happening. Because now she was clutching him tightly, bringing him into her deeper still—her breath hot on his neck as she bit out his name.

Her molten tightness sent heated flares of desire rippling through him—devouring him with their intensity as he moved inside her. Never before had he wanted to come quite so much—but he made himself hold back. Using every skill he’d learnt since he lost his own virginity at sixteen, he drove Cassandra closer and closer towards her own sweet oblivion. Didn’t they say it was difficult for a virgin to achieve orgasm the first time? Well, he would make sure that he proved the statistics wrong, he thought grimly—watching her eyes close as she began to abandon herself to the siren call of fulfilment.

Over and over again, he drew back from the brink—until finally he heard her little cry of disbelief and felt her arch beneath him. Never before could he remember feeling such an intense sense of satisfaction as when she gasped and began to spasm around him—and only when at last she had begun to still beneath him did he allow himself his own release. A release which went on and on—his pleasure only heightened by the anger and disbelief which began to ripple through him as he thought of what he had done.

Afterwards, he rolled off her and turned over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and taking a moment or two before he could control his breathing enough to speak. And to block out the appeal of her sated beauty—her tousled hair and flushed cheeks and the parted invitation of her breathless lips. ‘That was some surprise you sprang on me, cara.’

Cassie’s fingers fluttered to her breastbone as she registered the dark note of disapproval in his voice. ‘You mean—about me being a virgin?’

‘No, I mean about you being a natural blonde,’ he drawled sarcastically.

Her warm glow and slightly dreamy sensation rapidly began to evaporate and she bit her lip. ‘I should have told you.’

Hardening his heart to the anxiety in her violet eyes, he nodded his head in violent agreement. ‘Well, actually you did tell me—only you left it too late for me to do anything about it,’ he growled. Too late for him to do anything but thrust deep inside her with a sense of powerlessness which had overwhelmed him. Because he didn’t do powerlessness. Not any more.

She looked up into the hard glitter of his black eyes. ‘Would you…would you have stopped then?’

For a moment he didn’t answer. He wanted to say that yes, he would have stopped—but would he? Could he? If she had mentioned it on the terrace before she had come so eagerly with him to bed—he could have resisted her then, that was for sure. But she hadn’t. She had waited until they were at a point of no return before she had blurted out her unbelievable statement.

‘What the hell are you doing letting a man take your virginity from you on a first date?’ he demanded.

He was acting as if she had done something wrong—shameful even. ‘Somebody has to take it,’ she said flatly.

‘But not like that. Not with a man you barely know.’ A man who has no intention of forming any kind of deep or lasting relationship with you. Exasperatedly, he shook his head. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-one.’

So young, he thought bitterly—and yet surely old enough to have had some sexual experience before. ‘And there’s been no one else?’ He gave a hollow kind of laugh. ‘Stupid question. I’ve just proved the answer to that one.’ He could ask her why him, but you wouldn’t be a genius to be able to work that one out and he was a fool not to have seen it before.

She was gorgeous, yes—but her looks had not yet had the power to lift her from her rather mundane circumstances and elevate her to the kind of lifestyle which such beauty merited. Was that breathless and rather sweet attitude carefully cultivated? Because maybe she had been clever enough to realise that her distinctive looks were a gift from the gods which should not be squandered. That they could be used as a bargaining tool in the oldest barter-game in the world—beauty in exchange for riches.

Was that the real reason why she’d found herself a job in a chi-chi department store in one of the wealthiest areas of London? Hoping that some rich and ardent suitor would come walking in and whisk her away from it all? She must have been holding out for the highest bidder—the richest suitor to enter her radar—because what other reason would a woman have for giving away her precious virginity with such ease?

Giancarlo’s mouth hardened. And he had walked right into it. For someone who had acquired a sixth sense where gold-diggers were concerned—whose whole life had been shaped by one—he had been like putty in her hands. Bewitched by a pair of huge violet eyes and a pair of rose-petal lips and an unusual combination of shyness and sass.

Reeling from the sudden contempt in his eyes, Cassie sat up in bed, wanting to get away—terrified that she was going to do something stupid. Like cry. Or wonder aloud how she could have been such a gullible idiot to allow herself to get into such a situation with a man it was now clear had nothing but disdain for her. ‘No, there’s been no one else! And I’m sorry I’ve been such a disappointment to you, but don’t worry, Giancarlo—I won’t bother you ever again.’

Flinging the rumpled coverlet off her, she wriggled towards the end of the bed, but Giancarlo reached out and captured her with a hand to her naked hip.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘Home! Let me go! I didn’t think that it was such a terrible sin to make love with a man. Why didn’t you interrogate me beforehand to check that I fulfilled all your obviously strict criteria? No virgins need apply! Now will you please let go of me?’

‘No.’ His voice was firm and his hold on her unwavering. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

‘Are you going to keep me here against my will?’

He gave a hollow laugh. ‘I think you may be taking the innocent virgin theme a little too far,’ he said drily as he pulled her warm body back into his arms. ‘I’m not intending to keep you prisoner here against your will. Come back here, Cassandra—and don’t fight me just because you feel you ought to, when we both know you don’t want to.’

The awful thing was that he was right—she didn’t want to fight him. She wanted to nestle in his arms and she wanted him to start kissing her all over again. Or at least—that was what her body wanted. But her mind was telling her something entirely different. It was telling her to be proud and strong and to get away while she could because this dark and dangerous man could lead her into all kinds of trouble. ‘Leave me alone!’ she whispered.

‘No.’ His kissed her—felt her brief resistance as she tried to fight it, but her lips parted beneath his within seconds. A woman’s kiss tasted different once you’d made love to her, he reflected—it was scented with arousal and warm with intimacy. He felt the renewed flicker of desire as his tongue flicked against hers in sensual duel before drawing his head away to look down into her dazed face. ‘Just tell me one thing. A woman who looks like you…still a virgin. How come? There must have been a million men who wanted you before I came along.’

She felt that she shouldn’t have to explain herself—not to him—not to anyone. But pride made her want to, if only to prove that she wasn’t some kind of tramp, but a woman who had made a judgement and wouldn’t have regretted a moment of it if only he hadn’t been reacting like this.

‘Not a million men, no,’ she said slowly, because the fierce light from his black eyes was demanding some kind of answer to his question. ‘Some—of course. But a lot of them were men I’d grown up with—and they were more like brothers, really.’

‘And that’s it?’ he questioned coolly. ‘The sum total of your experience?’

‘Not quite all—I’ve had a few…’ She hesitated, until she realised that the fixed ebony spotlight of his eyes wasn’t moving. ‘Well, married men hitting on me.’

His eyes narrowed. Yes, he could imagine that. She, who looked like sin and temptation, would make the perfect mistress for a man locked into a dead relationship who was looking for a little bit of sweet diversion on the side. Yet who would have thought that beneath that mouth-watering exterior beat the heart of a virgin? Former virgin, he reminded himself grimly. ‘But you weren’t interested?’

Cassie’s mouth tightened with derision. ‘Funnily enough—no. I’ve never considered it acceptable behaviour to go off with another woman’s husband.’

‘Yet for all you know—I could have a wife tucked away somewhere,’ he challenged softly, and held her gaze.

It only took a couple of seconds before Cassie shook her head. ‘No.’

‘No? So sure, Cassandra?’

‘Sure enough. You don’t strike me as the kind of dishonourable man who would do that kind of thing.’

Giancarlo flinched. How ridiculously trusting she was—and how misplaced that trust! Why did she think he was particularly honourable after what had just happened? When he had brought her here with nothing but seduction in mind. And something in the way she spoke nagged at his conscience—the proud look on her face making him think that this was no gold-digger who had taken a job in a fancy store to trawl for a rich lover.

But why else would she give her virginity to a man who was little more than a stranger to her?

Stroking the flat of his hand down over the silken spill of her hair, he leaned closer and suddenly the scent of desire mixed with her own particular perfume sent lust arrowing through him. ‘Are you going to let me kiss you again?’

She shook her head. ‘No. You’ve made it clear that you think the whole evening has been a mistake—and the best thing for all concerned is for me to get dressed and get out of here.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Y-yes.’

His hand moved down to comfortably cup a breast between his fingers. ‘Quite sure?’

Confronted by his rugged face in close-up, his body warm against hers, Cassie felt her determination begin to slip away. Enthralled by the sudden siren call of her new-awakened body, she felt helpless to do anything other than melt against him while he continued to play with her nipple. ‘I shouldn’t,’ she whispered.

‘Sì. You should. For it is too late now for recriminations. We should make the most of what we have done by exploring a few more possibilities…don’t you think?’

‘Yes,’ she breathed as his mouth touched hers again and her hand fluttered to one firm, silky-hard buttock.

‘Oh, Cassandra,’ he groaned. ‘Sì, ah—sì!’

This time it was different. This time he showed her that love-making wasn’t always frantic and urgent—but could be long and slow and deep. And afterwards he brought her very close against him while her trembling body grew still.

Cradling her head on his chest, Cassie could hear the powerful beat of his heart and hear the slowing of his breath—and suddenly she wanted reassurance. For him to tell her that what they’d done wasn’t wrong.

‘Giancarlo?’ she murmured.

‘Shh. Don’t spoil it by talking,’ he instructed softly. ‘Just sleep.’

She thought there were more diplomatic ways to respond to a woman but she was too tired to object. Her body was weary—worn out by the new sensations it had experienced, and she was worn out by emotion, too. So she heeded his words and let her eyelids flutter down and sleep claim her.

When Cassie awoke, it took a few moments for her to realise where she was. A rumpled bed in a huge room with light spilling in from a pair of enormous windows. A little way off she could hear the sound of a shower and she must have drifted off to sleep again because when next she opened her eyes it was to see Giancarlo standing on the opposite side of the room, fully dressed. He was wearing a dark suit and another pristine white silk shirt—and was in the process of knotting a grey-and rose-coloured tie as their eyes met.

Suddenly Cassie felt shy. More than that—she felt disorientated. And alone. Had he woken, eager to vacate the bed and the woman who had given herself to him so easily?

Their eyes met for a long moment and he crossed the room to plant a quick kiss on her lips. ‘Good morning,’ he said softly.

‘Good morning.’ But the kiss had felt more perfunctory than passionate, Cassie thought. She looked up at his crisp, cool morning image and the naked man who had taken her to heaven and back during the night now seemed to have left the building. What the hell did she do next?

‘Would you like a shower?’ he asked, as if he’d tuned into her thoughts, and then his voice softened as he ran his fingers through her tousled hair. ‘Don’t look so disappointed, cara. This isn’t the kind of awakening I’d have chosen, but you were sleeping so peacefully that I couldn’t bear to wake you—and, unfortunately, I have an early meeting.’

Yet even as he said it Giancarlo knew that wasn’t the whole truth. For hadn’t he woken with regrets on his mind—even while his body had been hardening with renewed desire for her? He had taken her virginity, and, even though he had made her sexual initiation as satisfactory as he knew how, the situation was fraught with danger. She might form an attachment to him which he would be unable to reciprocate—and any brief affair they might have would be complicated by his own feelings of responsibility, and guilt. So wouldn’t it be better to make a clean break? To let her go now before she got in any deeper—and he hurt her, as he would inevitably hurt her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘Or you could always have a bath, if you preferred?’ he murmured.

Somehow Cassie managed a smile—because you wouldn’t need to be a woman of the world to realise that when a man was besotted with you, he didn’t feel the need to talk about the plumbing arrangements. She sensed what was coming. A polite but very definite farewell. But she wasn’t going to cling—or to come over as needy. She had walked into this scenario with little thought about dignity—but it wasn’t too late to resurrect some now.

‘Don’t worry about a thing—I’m due in at nine. I’ll have a shower and then I’ll go straight to work.’

‘Good. Well, Gina will serve you breakfast—just tell her what it is you’d like.’

Cassie couldn’t think of anything worse than the coollooking Italian woman serving her breakfast—and with her still wearing the same clothes that she’d worn the night before. ‘Thanks,’ she said politely.

‘And my driver will take you wherever you want to go.’

Cassie shook her head. This was awful—just awful—this self-conscious chit-chat as if what had happened during the night hadn’t happened at all. As if she hadn’t been writhing beneath him while his mouth had explored hers with a sweet passion. ‘No, honestly—I’m going to work and it’s not far. And the walk will do me good,’ she finished.

Their eyes met during a silence which grew in awkwardness by the moment—and yet what on earth could she say to break it? wondered Cassie desperately. Especially when the only words on her lips were ones of bittersweet regret that she should have allowed herself to get so carried away and to have lost her virginity to a man who clearly regretted taking it.

‘I’ll ring you,’ he said slowly.

Cassie nodded. But she knew with a horrible aching certainty that he never would. He’d got what he’d wanted and now it was perfectly plain that he couldn’t wait to get away. She fixed what she hoped was a nonchalant smile on her lips, because she was all out of bright and breezy responses. And she didn’t dare move. He might have encouraged her to act with uninhibited pleasure in his arms countless times throughout the night—but no way was she going to walk naked across the room in front of him.

Maybe he sensed her discomfiture, because he left without another word. And once she heard the sound of the front door slamming shut, Cassie quickly got out of bed and made use of the en-suite bathroom, her mind too full to register the unfamiliar luxury which awaited her there.

At least she felt marginally better once she’d showered—even though it was no fun putting on the same clothes and underwear—but at least she wore a uniform at work and she could nip out in her lunch-hour and buy another pair of pants.

The morning was winter at its most beautiful—the sky icy-blue and the frost in the park coating every blade of grass with a layer of ice-white. She tried to count her blessings. To tell herself that it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that she would never forget and that she would soon get over it. Well, there was nothing much to get over, was there?

Was it her imagination, or did the usually friendly doorman in front of the glossy gold and claret façade which was Hudson’s look at her rather oddly—or was she getting paranoid? Just because she had probably made the biggest mistake of her life—didn’t mean that she had to start imagining things.

Taking the lift down to the basement, she went towards the changing rooms but before she could push the door open two figures stepped forward to bar her way. A man and a woman—both wearing familiar dark blue uniforms and curiously forbidding expressions. Cassie started. Hudson’s security staff? What were they doing here and why the hell were they looking at her like that? She felt her mouth grow dry with nameless fear.

‘Cassandra Summers?’ said one of them.

‘Is…something wrong?’ she stumbled as the woman took a pen from her pocket and looked Cassie straight in the eye.

‘Cassandra Summers? Would you like to come with us?’

‘What’s happened?’ she demanded.

‘You have been accused of fraud. And I’m afraid that there’s the potential of police involvement—’

‘No!’ Cassie’s denial cut across the official-sounding words—expecting them to suddenly start laughing. To say that they’d been put up to it by one of her colleagues and that it was nothing more than a practical joke. But their expressions were deadly serious. Staring into their stony faces, she began to tremble uncontrollably as she realised that this was no joke.

‘No!’ she whispered. ‘Please…there must have been some kind of terrible mistake!’