Trapped By Vialli's Vows. Chantelle Shaw

to the hot, moist core of her femininity.

      He gave a husky laugh. ‘This is what I missed. Your beautiful body, ready and eager for me. I’m impatient to get you home so that I can undress you.’ He traced the neckline of her dress with his forefinger. ‘Is this a new dress? Did you buy it for the party? When I walked into the restaurant I was blown away by how sexy you looked.’

      She remembered how unsure of herself she had felt while she had waited for Leandro to arrive at the restaurant. If he felt proud of her, perhaps she would feel more his equal.

      ‘Leandro,’ she murmured, when he tore his mouth from hers to allow them to draw breath. ‘Do you wish I had a better job than waitressing?’

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with being a waitress,’ he said indistinctly, busy nibbling her earlobe before trailing his lips down her throat and moving purposefully towards her cleavage.

      ‘But wouldn’t you like me to have a high-flying career, like the women you employ at your company?’ she persisted.

      ‘I’ve dated career women, and to be frank it was a nightmare trying to align our schedules and arrange to meet when we happened to be on the same continent. I like knowing that you’re at home waiting for me when I get back from work.’

      Marnie was disappointed by Leandro’s apparent lack of enthusiasm for her to have a career, but at the same time her foolish heart quivered because he’d said that he looked forward to coming home to her every evening. She drew an unsteady breath when he eased the stretchy neckline of her dress and her bra down and cupped her breasts in his palms, so that he could flick his tongue across one nipple and then the other. The sensation of him sucking each tender peak was electrifying.

      Dazed with desire, she decided to wait and tell him about the opportunity she had been offered to study astronomy at NASA until later—after they had assuaged their hunger for each other that was now at fever pitch after their two-week separation.

      Leandro pulled her onto his lap and thrust his hand beneath her skirt to stroke the strip of sensitive bare skin above the lace band of her stocking tops. Shivering with longing, she let her thighs fall open to allow him to move his hand higher, to the place where she longed for him to touch her.

      ‘You are hungry,’ he drawled, satisfaction thickening his voice as he eased his finger beneath her thong and discovered the slick wetness of her arousal.

      A voice in the back of Marnie’s mind taunted her, telling her that her weakness for Leandro was shameful. She didn’t want to appear needy, but the truth was she did need him. Before she had met him she’d felt empty and alone.

      He pushed another finger into her and moved his hand with rhythmical strokes, in and out, faster, deeper, taking her higher until she couldn’t think of anything but the beauty of what he was doing to her.

      ‘Leandro...’ She clung to his shoulders as she felt the first exquisite spasms of her orgasm.

      ‘That’s right, baby. Come for me,’ he said thickly.

      Overwhelmed with pleasure, she pressed her face into his neck and breathed in the spicy scent of his aftershave. Her heart clenched with emotion. She had missed him so much, and from the size of the rock-hard erection she could feel beneath her bottom he had missed her as badly.

      Minutes later the car drew up in Eaton Square and Marnie quickly tugged her dress into place before the chauffeur opened the door. Leandro kept his arm around her waist, as if he knew that her legs felt unsteady, and they hurried up the steps of the house.

      As they entered the hallway he kicked the front door shut and pulled her against his hard body, his hands roaming over her with feverish urgency. He curled his fingers into the soft mounds of her buttocks before running a hand up her spine and unzipping her dress. With his help the black velvet slipped down to expose her semi-sheer bra, through which her dusky nipples were clearly visible.

      Leandro gave a growl that sent a shiver of anticipation through Marnie. She wanted him now—this minute.

      He must have sensed her desperation, because he lifted her and sat her on the marble table in the hall, pushed her skirt up to her thighs.

      ‘I can’t wait long enough for us to get upstairs to the bedroom,’ he said hoarsely.

      Her heart lurched when she saw the feral hunger in his eyes. But a familiar sound that she had grown to hate shattered the sizzling sexual tension.

      ‘Your damned phone!’ she muttered.

      ‘I’ll switch it off,’ he promised.

      But as he pulled his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket he glanced at the screen and stiffened.

      ‘Cara, I’m sorry, but I have to take this.’

      ‘You can’t be serious...’ She almost wept with frustration, but her sense of hurt and abandonment was even worse than the unfulfilled ache between her legs as she watched him stride into his study and close the door behind him, shutting her out of his life—as usual, Marnie thought bitterly.

      But he was the head of a multi-million-pound company and sometimes he had to deal with business matters at unsociable hours, she reminded herself. She recognised that he was speaking French—which was another surprise, because she hadn’t known that he was fluent in the language. There were so many things she did not know about Leandro.

      She slid down from the table and readjusted her dress. Her breasts ached and she felt a little bit sick. She recalled that she’d felt nauseous at about the same time on the previous few evenings and wondered if it had something to do with the heatwave. Maybe she needed to drink more water.

      Leandro’s voice was still audible through the study door. Marnie wandered into the sitting room. Like all the rooms in the house, its modern décor was a contrast to the building’s imposing Georgian façade. The walls and furnishings were in neutral tones and a few pieces of contemporary and no doubt very expensive artwork added splashes of bold colour.

      It was a curiously impersonal room, but Leandro had told her that he had employed interior designers to decorate the house, which perhaps explained why there was no stamp of his personality anywhere. When she had moved in with him Marnie had placed a couple of potted ferns on the windowsill to try and breathe some life into the room, but they looked as out of place as she felt.

      She stood by the window and watched the shadows lengthen in the private gardens at the centre of the square. The district of Belgravia was very different from the council estate where she’d grown up. She had moved there, to one of the most deprived parts of south London, with her mother and brothers after her dad had left and their family home had been sold. The Silden Estate had been notorious for gang crime and drug dealing, and one reason why she had wanted a good career was so that she could escape the sense of hopelessness that had pervaded the estate.

      Marnie remembered that when she’d first met Leandro she had told herself he was out of her league. He had been a regular customer at the cocktail bar and restaurant where she worked and she hadn’t taken his flirting seriously—until one night when he had asked her out to dinner.

      It had been the first time she’d been on a proper dinner date, and to start with she had felt on edge, but he had soon put her at her ease with his charismatic charm. By the end of the evening she had fallen completely under his spell and had needed little persuading to spend the night with him.

      She did not know if he had guessed that he was her first lover. Up until then she hadn’t had time for boyfriends. She’d been too busy studying, working and looking after her mother, whose depression had worsened after Luke had died and Jake had disappeared. But following her mother’s death she had felt a sense of freedom from responsibility, and when Leandro had asked her to move in with him she’d fallen headlong into their passionate affair.

      Marnie sighed. In those early days it hadn’t worried her that Leandro worked long hours, or that the only time they spent together was in bed. She’d enjoyed having sex with him—she still did. But although the situation was the same she realised