Fascination: The Sicilian's Ruthless Marriage Revenge. Carole Mortimer

wanted to lose himself in her flames. As he wanted her to lose herself in the inferno that raged inside him.

      He deepened his kiss and freed Robin’s hair once again to entangle his hand in its silky scentedness. His other hand moved the length of her body restlessly as he touched and caressed her slender curves. Feeling her quiver of response, he raised the hem of her dress and began to caress a path upwards.

      She breathed low in her throat as his hand touched the bare flesh above her stockings, that sigh becoming a groan as that hand moved assuredly towards the warmth between her thighs.

      Cesare’s fingers easily pushed aside the silk of her panties, and he touched the silky curls before moving unerringly to the centre of her desire, touching her, feeling the way she instantly blossomed and opened to him.

      Wet. Robin was so wet. So wet and ready.

      Cesare continued to kiss her as he untangled his other hand from her hair, moving that hand to the back of her dress, lowering the zip down the length of her spine to allow the dress to fall in a heap at her sandalled feet. He bared the pert arousal of her breasts to his caress, finding she fitted perfectly into the palm of his hand. His thumb moved to caress the fiery peak, and he could feel the moistness increase between her thighs as his fingers stroked the throbbing nub of her arousal.

      Robin had been lost from the first touch of Cesare’s mouth on hers—had no will to fight the volcanic passion that had been burning barely beneath the surface between them all evening. Her breathing was shallow as Cesare moved his mouth from hers and bent to capture her hardened nipple between his lips, teeth and tongue, tasting before he suckled her deeply into the heat of his mouth, at the same time as his finger moved into the heat between her thighs.

      Her breath became a sob as she moved rhythmically against him, the earthquake building deep within her, increasing her thrusts against him as her shuddering release convulsed around and against his stroking hand—a release that seemed to go on and on as Cesare continued those caresses, filling her whole body with a bone-melting pleasure that she never wanted to stop …

      CHAPTER SIX

      WAS THERE ANY dignified way in which she could extract herself from this situation, Robin wondered with aching embarrassment seconds later, as her composure slowly returned to her.

      No, there wasn’t, she decided, feeling a cringing awkwardness at her total lack of control. For one thing, she was wearing only panties, stockings and her evening sandals, while Cesare was still dressed in his black silk shirt and trousers.

      Not that he looked completely together, she realised, as she looked at him from beneath lowered lashes: his shirt was unbuttoned where her questing fingers had sought to touch his bare flesh, and his dark, overlong hair was slightly tousled from the way those same fingers had become entangled in its thickness as she’d clung to him. There was a flush of arousal on his high cheekbones.

      An arousal that he hadn’t satisfied.

      That she hadn’t satisfied!

      It might have been some time since she’d known a man intimately, but she knew she had never been a selfish lover, that a lack of physical consideration for her partner was not something Giles had ever been able to accuse her of.

      Although she could never remember responding to her husband in the abandoned way she had to Cesare!

      But, although only minutes had passed, wasn’t it just a little too late for her to even attempt to give Cesare the release that his throbbing body, pressed against hers, so obviously craved?

      ‘What are you thinking now?’ Cesare’s voice was harsh in the pregnant silence that had grown between them.

      Robin hesitated before answering. ‘That this is the most embarrassing moment of my entire life,’ she told him honestly.

      ‘Embarassing?’ Cesare repeated, standing back slightly to look at her, her hair rumpled and silky, her eyes overbright, her mouth slightly swollen from the force of his kisses. Her breasts were still aroused from the touch of his hands and lips, and there was a lethargy to her limbs that spoke of recent arousal and release. ‘You are beautiful, Robin,’ he assured her. ‘In fact, once we are husband and wife, I wish for you to hate me in that way every night of our married life!’

      ‘You’re so sure, after … after that … that I’ll marry you, aren’t you?’ she accused with an indignant glare, and she bent down to snatch up her dress from the carpeted floor and hold it against her bare breasts.

      Cesare sensed that she was once again being deliberately provocative, but the unsatisfied ache of his own body meant he was in no mood for yet another argument.

      There was no way Robin could deny her physical response to him, or his response to her, and any more prevarication between them was pointless.

      He gave a sharp inclination of his head. ‘I suggest you tell your father we are to be married as soon as a special licence can be arranged—’

      ‘Oh, you suggest, do you?’ Robin echoed sarcastically as she pulled her dress back on and zipped it firmly back into place.

      ‘Yes—I—suggest,’ Cesare repeated forcefully, the familiar ache of his body certainly not improving his temper.

      What should have happened now was for the two of them to go to bed together and finish what they had started. But one look at Robin’s rebellious expression told him that definitely was not going to happen!

      No matter. He had the rest of their lives together to take his fill of this highly sensuous woman. A few days, perhaps weeks, to wait; delay would only make his anticipation all the sweeter.

      ‘At least give me some credit for having the sense not to make it an order, Robin,’ he grated.

      She gave a derisive snort. ‘I have no intention of giving you credit for anything, Cesare!’

      He quirked dark brows over mocking brown eyes. ‘Not even for being a considerate lover?’ he taunted softly.

      ‘For being an experienced one, you mean!’ she came back self-disgustedly, and her cheeks burned anew at his reminder of her earlier loss of control.

      And something else, if Cesare was not mistaken. Perhaps she had not had the same consideration for his own pleasure?

      ‘I have had other lovers, yes,’ he conceded. ‘But then, so have you.’

      ‘One lover,’ she corrected. ‘I would never—That … what happened just now would never have happened if—’ She broke off suddenly. ‘I have to go,’ she muttered almost inaudibly.

      It wasn’t what they had planned for tonight, Cesare knew, but in view of what had just ocurred he was inclined to let Robin make her escape.

      Before, no doubt, spending a frustratingly restless night himself.

      Although there was some sweet consolation for him in the fact that Robin claimed her only lover had been her ex-husband.

      It was a surprise, a very pleasant surprise, and her uninhibited response to him encouraged him in the belief that Robin would accept him as a husband much sooner than she thought she would.

      ‘Very well, Robin,’ he conceded. ‘I will allow you to—’

      ‘You aren’t allowing me to do anything, Cesare,’ Robin cut in impatiently. ‘My God, you’re arrogant,’ she added disgustedly. ‘I’m leaving now because I want to, not because you’re allowing me to! Don’t think—don’t ever think—that you’ll control me with physical pleasure, Cesare. Because you won’t!’

      Had that been his intention? However, the physical pleasure they had just known together was not a weapon to be used but to be enjoyed—reveled in, even.

      Did Robin think—did she really not know—that the pleasure she had experienced tonight was much rarer than people would have you believe? That, no matter what all those glossy magazines might say,