Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender: Seducing His Enemy's Daughter / Surrendering to the Vengeful Italian / Soldier Under Siege. Annie West

had contracted to the living pulse beating through her, through him, filling the air around them and the darkness behind her closed lids. Ella wasn’t sure she was still alive after that cataclysmic orgasm.

       Had it ever been like that before?

      Of course it hadn’t. If it had she’d never have let her love life sink without a trace.

      Donato moved, pulling gently away, murmuring something she couldn’t hear over her rocketing pulse and harsh breathing. Soon she’d open her eyes but for now she slumped back against the wall that at this moment felt as comfortable as any feather bed.

      Her bones had melted. She wasn’t sure she could move her legs. But it didn’t matter. She never wanted to move again. She felt blissfully, utterly wonderful.

      She felt... Words faded in the afterglow of rapture.

      Finally, the awkward angle of her head against the wall and the hard surface beneath her penetrated her dazed brain. She should move. She had...surely there was something she had to do?

      Gingerly Ella sat up, hands braced on the seat beneath her, only to find it wasn’t a seat. It was hard and bumpy. With a huge effort she pried open heavy eyelids and looked down. She was sitting on a carving of a chariot. It was pulled by horses with wide nostrils and, as she shifted, she saw a couple of naked men, maybe gods, riding behind.

      Ella blinked, her hands stroking the satiny polished wood beyond the carved plaque. Her gaze strayed to the delicate, obviously hand-carved garlands of fruit and flowers that grew fancifully out of the top of the sideboard to trail decoratively down the front.

      Her throat closed. If she wasn’t mistaken she’d just had mind-blowing sex on top of a piece of furniture worth more than she earned in a year. A museum piece that some collector had no doubt lovingly restored.

      Her fingers tightened on the edge of the brilliantly polished wood. Her eyes closed.

       Forget the furniture, Ella. How about the fact you had wild sex with a stranger? A man you’ve known less than a day? And you barely made it past his front door?

      She swallowed hard, her throat constricting as her body hummed with the resonance of the climax they’d shared.

       Who was this woman and what had she done with Ella Sanderson?

      A footstep sounded and her eyes popped open. Relief made her sag, her hand to her racing heart. ‘It’s you.’

      ‘You were expecting someone else?’ Donato looked as debonair and dangerous as ever. More so, with his thick black hair deliciously rumpled. A shiver spread out from her womb and she kept her eyes off his face, not ready to meet that intense scrutiny.

      He was fully clothed. Ella tugged her long top lower. But that voice in her head drawled that it was too late for modesty. That didn’t stop the blood rushing to her face as she registered her bare legs and the fact she still wore her shoes. Her pants lay in a heap a few steps away.

      She swallowed, reminding herself that embarrassment couldn’t kill her. It never had in all those years facing her father’s superior friends. Even this, the pinnacle of mortification, would pass.

      ‘I wondered if you have staff.’

      ‘Not today. I gave them the day off.’ He paced closer and her head jerked up. The gleam in his eyes was pure carnal invitation, as was the half smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. Heat blasted her, turning the marrow in her bones molten.

      How could she feel so needy again? Surely it had only been minutes since they’d— Ella slammed a door on that train of thought.

      He was before her now, his palms resting lightly on her bare thighs. His hands were broad, hard with calluses, and the feel of them on her skin made her pulse skitter. She remembered him touching her intimately and the breath sighed out of her lungs.

      Then his words penetrated.

      ‘You gave them the day off? Why? Because you were so sure we’d...’ Ella swallowed hard. ‘So sure of me?’

      His expression was still, giving nothing away, except for that banked heat.

      ‘I was sure that, whatever happened, I wanted complete privacy. No distractions.’

      She angled her jaw. ‘In case I ravished you before I even got past the foyer?’ Her bravado hid a world of discomfort. She wanted to scurry away and hide, not brazen out her inexplicable behaviour. She’d acted like a tart instead of her cautious, reserved self.

      ‘I’ve discovered I adore being ravished in the foyer.’ His fingers touched her chin, tilting it towards him. ‘And it was a mutual ravishment, Ella.’

      Did he say that to make her feel better? It didn’t.

      She’d known from the first that he was Trouble with a capital T. She just hadn’t reckoned on her own body betraying her. In twenty-six years it had never done so before. Sex, in her admittedly limited experience, had been carefully planned, horizontal and...nice. Not a blaze of out-of-control libidos.

      Something flared in Donato’s eyes and she just knew he was thinking about it too. Sex. The scent of it hung in the air and, despite her lassitude mere minutes ago, Ella’s body was ripe and ready for him again.

      She shifted back on the sideboard, yanking her chin from his touch.

      ‘I need to get dressed.’

      For an answer his hand slid slowly up her thigh, creating waves of tingling pleasure. ‘No need for that. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.’ His eyes had that heavy-lidded look that made her pulse race. His voice had dropped to a low burr of temptation.

      Insidious longing filled Ella and she slapped her hand on his to stop him reaching up under her top. She didn’t trust herself to resist if he touched her there.

      ‘No!’ She breathed deep. ‘I want to get dressed.’

      His fingers splayed wide on her thighs, curling around them, sending awareness rippling through her. The tension in her belly notched higher.

      ‘This isn’t over, Ella.’ His head lowered towards hers, his breath hazing her lips. ‘Don’t pretend it is.’

      Was that a threat or a promise? It stiffened her spine, giving her the strength to shove him back with the flat of her hand. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t move, then his fingers trailed down her thighs and away as he took a pace back.

      Ella shimmied to the edge of the sideboard and onto the floor. Her knees wobbled for a perilous moment but she forced herself to stand tall. Just as if she paraded half naked before men on a regular basis.

      ‘Don’t hide from the truth, Ella. Amazing as it was, that barely touched the surface, for either of us.’ His swift, all-encompassing survey left her blood singing.

      Looking him in the face was far harder than facing her stressed manager in a foul mood, or her father in full flight. ‘I’d prefer to have this conversation with my clothes on. You have the advantage over me there.’

      The slow curve of his lips did devastating things to her and the devilish glint in his eyes was even worse. She sank back against the sideboard, needing support.

      ‘You want me naked?’ His hand went to the top button of his shirt and Ella swallowed hard. Of course she wanted him naked. He was right. She hadn’t had nearly enough of him.

      ‘I want my clothes.’ Her voice was too strident but it was the best she could do. Dragging her gaze from his to the discarded heap of fabric on the floor, she moved forward.

      ‘If you must.’ Before she could get there Donato had scooped up not only her trousers, but her cotton undies too. They dangled from his fingers—plain and ordinary, just like her. She’d challenged herself this morning not to dig out her sexy lace knickers and bra, bought on a whim and worn once. To do so would have been an admission that she fancied him. That she wanted him to