Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender. Annie West

savouring it. She looked up into that austere, scarred, compelling face and wished, for once in her life, that she really was the beauty in the family. The sort to turn even this man’s head. ‘You came to the party expecting my sister, not me.’

      ‘And how pleased I was that she couldn’t make it.’ The words were a caress.

      ‘No!’ She jerked back, finally breaking from his hold. ‘Don’t pretend you were bowled over by my looks or my glittering personality. It won’t work.’ Ella had learned long ago, growing up in her sister’s shadow, that she wasn’t the sort to turn male heads. Pain twisted, razor-sharp, in her chest.

      ‘You don’t believe me, sweet Ella?’

      Damn the man. Even that easy endearment sent her heart tumbling. Was she really that needy? So ready to be seduced by a show of attention?

      Yet even as she lashed up indignation she knew she was fooling herself. Despite her protests that sense of connection between them was as real as it was inexplicable. It had slammed through her the moment she’d turned to find Donato’s eyes on her at the party. It had sung in her veins as she’d sparred with him under her father’s horrified gaze. It had turned her on as she lay naked in bed, wishing he was there with her instead of taunting her with that sultry deep voice over the phone.

      ‘Don’t toy with me, Donato.’ She pressed her lips together.

      ‘You don’t trust me, do you?’

      Her chin hiked up. ‘Not an inch.’

      ‘Maybe this will convince you.’ He grabbed her hand and, before she could yank it free, placed it on his chest.

      Instantly she stilled. The hard staccato beat of his heart pounded beneath her palm. It wasn’t the steady pulse of a man in control. It was the rapid pulse of a man on the brink. Her eyes widened.

      Runnels of fire traced across Ella’s skin as she met eyes the colour of twilight. His gaze bored into her, challenging yet, incredibly it seemed, honest.

      ‘I want you, Ella.’ His gaze pinioned her. ‘And you want me.’

      Before she could form a reply his big hand lifted to the upper slope of her breast, palm down. ‘See? We match.’

      It was true. Her heartbeat careered just as fast as his. And all she could think about was how it would feel if he slid his hand just a little lower, to cup her breast.

      A hot chill raced through her and desire spiked. Her breath grew ragged.

      As if reading her mind, Donato slipped his hand down to cover her breast. Ella bit her lip to shut in a gasp of delight. But she couldn’t stop herself from pressing nearer, eyes closing as his hand moulded her soft flesh. Something like relief welled.

      He moved and her eyes snapped open. Gripping her arm, he stepped in against her, powering her back until her spine collided with something solid.

      They stood toe to toe, hip to thigh, torso to torso and she shivered at how good that felt. Even the scent of him in her nostrils was delicious. The sheer potency of his big body was a promise and, she realised belatedly, a threat.

      ‘No!’ She lifted her hands to his shoulders and pushed. He didn’t budge. He was as immovable as the Harbour Bridge. ‘I don’t care what deal you and my father have sewn up. You can’t force me. Let me go!’

      His jaw set and she watched that pulse throb at his temple. He breathed deep, his nostrils flaring. Then, to her surprise, he stepped back. He stood just inches away, his breath hot on her face, the force-field of his body making her flesh prickle and spark.

      ‘This isn’t about any deal, Ella. This is about us.’

      ‘There is no us.’

      ‘Of course there is. You feel it too, the awareness between us. The desire.’

      She felt it all right. It scared her as nothing else ever had that she could recall.

      ‘You think having sex will convince me to marry you?’ Her chest rose and fell with her choppy breathing. ‘You think you’re that good in bed? Or are you relying on blackmail to force me since my sister is out of reach?’

      ‘Don’t be a coward, Ella.’

      She stiffened. One thing she’d stopped being long ago was a coward. After the life she’d had to endure with her father, the continual battle for respect since love was denied her, she’d earned the right to hold her head high.

      ‘I’m no coward.’ It came out through clenched teeth.

      ‘You’re looking for excuses.’ Donato raised his hands. ‘Forget your father. Forget the wedding and the business deal. Forget your sister. I was never interested in her.’

      Ella scrutinised his face but his look was sincere. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth and she swallowed hard.

      ‘This is about you and me. I’m telling you I want you. The question is, are you woman enough to admit you want me too?’

      ‘With you holding my father’s potential bankruptcy over our heads?’

      Donato shook his head. ‘There are two separate issues here.’ He spoke slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘There’s my business deal with your father, and yes, the proposal for a wedding is tied to that. But,’ he continued when she would have interrupted, ‘that’s not what we’re discussing right now. No one is forcing you into anything. Believe me, I would never force a woman into my bed.’

      Ella stared into his face, noting how those dark features set in stern lines of rigid control. There was hauteur in the flash of his eyes and pride in the set of his shoulders.

      She believed him. The realisation rocked her.

      ‘What we’re discussing now is sex.’ His voice turned deep and liquid on the word, matching the slow-burning need inside Ella. ‘You and me. Uncomplicated, satisfying, scorching.’

      ‘Scorching?’ Ella didn’t know how the word escaped. It wasn’t what she’d meant to say. Clearly the look in his eyes had incinerated part of her brain. ‘You assume a lot.’

      He shook his head. ‘I assume nothing. I know, Ella. Can’t you feel it?’ Again he reached for her, but this time he only clasped her hand lightly. Fire sparked from the point of contact and she had to work to suppress shivers of delight.

      How had she come to this? She’d raced halfway across Sydney to confront Donato, filled with righteous indignation and—

      But there’d been more, hadn’t there? No matter what she pretended, it hadn’t just been indignation. She’d been almost relieved for the excuse to see him again, despite her fine talk about them never meeting again. She was angry, for sure. But she was also...enthralled.

      She swallowed, her throat scratchy as she confronted the truth. She wanted Donato Salazar as she’d never wanted any man. Her skin felt too tight, her chest too full.

      Donato stroked one finger along her palm and she gasped as pleasure rocketed through her.

      ‘Tell me you feel it too,’ he purred.

      Ella bit back a groan of despair. She was out of her depth. She’d never been good at flirtation. Suddenly she didn’t care about pride or keeping up an image. This was about survival—and she felt like she was going under for the third time.

      ‘What do you want from me, Donato? I don’t play these games.’

      ‘I don’t play games either. Not about this.’ His face was grim, the hint of teasing erased from features that looked pared back and intense. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard, and something within her eased at that visible sign that he wasn’t totally in control.

      Suddenly he stepped back, releasing her hand, and cool air wafted between them.

      ‘What happens next is up to you.’ His heavy-lidded