Ruthless Revenge: Priceless Proposal: The Sicilian's Surprise Wife / Secret Heiress, Secret Baby / Guardian to the Heiress. Margaret Way

the valley between her buttocks. Left her too tight inside her own skin.

      She gasped as his teeth dug into the flesh at her shoulder. Pain and pleasure fused together as he licked the tender spot, his breaths coming on top of each other in a harsh rhythm.

      And still, he didn’t let her move. Didn’t give her anything more than he decided.

      He cupped her breast, and heated wetness drenched her sex. Throwing her head back, Clio pushed into his touch.

      Just once, she wanted to feel his touch all over. Just once, she wanted to let it be about pleasure and only pleasure. The hardened nipple rasped hungrily against his palm, an answering pull between her thighs.

      Mouth buried in her neck, he licked her skin, and Clio moved restlessly. The slide of her garter against her thighs, the rub of her own skin was torturous, her sex aching and throbbing.

      With his fingers under her chin, he tipped her face up. Caught by the reflection in the oval, floor-length mirror, Clio flushed. Her eyes were droopy, her mouth trembling.

      And he...he could have been cast from marble for all the expression in his eyes.

      “Have you had enough, bella?”

      Something in that mocking tone of his lit a fire in Clio. It was a fantasy to believe that he could feel anything for her—hurt or pain or desire—without allowing himself to do so, a fantasy to think she could affect him in a way he couldn’t control.

      A fantasy she was becoming more and more invested in, a fantasy that would break her if she didn’t kill it now.

      That fear sliced through the haze of desire and alcohol. “Have you had enough, Stefan?” she said, meeting his gaze in the mirror. She had no idea how she strung the words together, no idea how her brain even cooperated when she was aching everywhere. “Have you proved to yourself that you can have me panting in heat within a few seconds, that I’m the same as every other woman on the planet in this, too? Isn’t that the game we are playing, dear husband?”

      He turned her around, and still there was not a glimmer of emotion in his face.

      Clio would have taken anything, even fury at this point. She wanted to crack that hardened shell he wore like armor; she wanted to shatter it and wound him. And it was the most dangerous thought she had had in her life.

      “Why did you drink tonight when you never do, bella?”

      “Because you’re a mistrusting, cynical asshole who hates the very sight of me and who thinks I’m a manipulative bitch out for your millions.”

      “I never said that.”

      Clio didn’t know why she was so angry, only that it was unbearable that he wasn’t even moved. “Your look all evening did it for you. After that first drink, I found it was easy to not give a damn about you and your glaring and your low opinion.”

      “Or it could be because you know what’s been building between us this past week and you’re terrified to face it and you wanted an easy out.

      “Whatever happened tonight, come morning, you could say, I was out of it.”

      He dissected her emotions, her decisions so easily that she felt raw, out of control, bereft of words.

      He undid the golden cuff links and pushed his sleeves back, arrogant confidence dripping from every pore. “Is the buzz evaporating yet, cara?”

      Clio pushed him, something hot and achy clamping her throat. “I’ve had enough of you and your—”

      “No, you haven’t,” he said grabbing her again. This time, she was facing him and there was nowhere to hide. “Stop hiding, Clio. Unless you stop and face it, there’ll always be another situation to run from.”

      “I’m not—”

      “You left England when you found out that your father had arranged every day of the rest of your life from what you’ll study to who you’ll marry. It was an incredibly brave thing to do but it was still running away.

      “For all these years, you hid even when you knew Jackson was cheating you—you let him do it. Tonight, you drank because you don’t know what to do with me.”

      He placed his hand over one breast and a gasp fell from her mouth. He covered her mouth with his and sparks cindered at her mouth spreading far and wide, making her hungry and desperate for more. “What you’re doing to me, standing here like this, with desire lacing your gaze... Do you have any idea how torturous this is for me?”

      And he gave her what she wanted.

      He stroked and bit, nipped and laved at her mouth while she clung to him, her body, her will, her mind, all his.

      “You drank because you didn’t want to be responsible for this, Clio,” he whispered against her swollen mouth.

      Slowly, he pushed her back, creating distance between their bodies.

      “For all the names the media calls me, I will not seduce you tonight and shoulder responsibility for it tomorrow while you call it a drunken mistake.”

      Disappointment cooled her body as neatly as if he had dumped the champagne bucket full of ice over her head. “No?”

      “No. When I take a woman to bed, it’s not out of pity or shame or joy or anger. It’s pure lust, bella.”

      “So you won’t finish what you’ve started, then?”

      “Not unless you speak the words.” In an intimate gesture that set fire to her skin, he tugged the delicate neckline with rough fingers. It gave in with a tear and a rasp—thousands of dollars and ripped now. The upper swell of her breast bared to his slumberous gaze. He bent his arrogant head and pressed a hot kiss to the flesh. Nipped it with his teeth.

      Need knotted at her nipples, making them achy and tight. Her sex pulsed, wet and aching.

      Clio had never known such liquid desire, as if her skin and sinew was all filled with want. Want for him. Want for the one man she shouldn’t want.

      Want for the man who had given her everything, but really nothing.

      “Tell me that you want me to tear that dress off of you completely, bella.” Anger colored his words. “Tell me to run my hands and mouth over every inch of your skin, tell me to sink into your heat until it is all either of us can feel.” Contempt punctured the heat in his words. “Tell me to give us both the relief that we’re both so desperately craving.

      “Tell me and your every wish will be my command, bella.”

      Utter resignation reverberated in the way he held her loosely against him, in the way he sighed against her willing flesh. And it was that resignation, that shuddering exhale as if he was giving in to the inevitable even as he hated it, that cleared the haze from Clio’s head.

      Had she known that this moment was coming? Was this the only way she could think of having him, when she could absolve herself of all responsibility? Was this how she had let Jackson walk all over her?

       Would she always let life happen to her, rather than take charge of it?

      Shame cooled her skin, leaving her shaking. Tugging the torn lace of her dress upward, she stumbled back. Her breathing out of sync, she tried to collect her aroused senses together.

      She wanted to be held and kissed and touched by him so much that it was a cavernous chasm inside her.

      But not like this.

       No. This was not fair to either of them.

      She looked up and met his glittering gaze, every inch of her vibrating with need. “When I look back at this night a decade later, I want to remember something else other than your self-disgust that you want me and my desperate attempt to escape it, as you put it so well.”

      “Clio—”