The Italian's Marriage Bargain. Carol Marinelli

in his world, a world far removed from hers, and his intentions, however well meant at the time, would fade into insignificance.

      She’d seen it all before—too many times.

      Promises meant nothing.

      ‘He’s got a contract,’ Felicity pointed out, her tone businesslike, addressing Luca as she would a client. ‘There are unfair dismissal laws in place.’

      ‘Would they have protected your father?’ Luca responded quickly, quelling her argument with a stroke of his tongue. ‘These are just minor details. My legal staff will take care of them.’ He flicked his hand again. ‘I promise you this, Felice…you will never have to see him again, never have to worry about that man forcing himself upon you, blackmailing you…’

      ‘It’s my father who is the concern here,’ Felicity pointed out. ‘I can take care of myself.’

      ‘No, Felice, clearly you cannot.’ He walked over to her, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Last night anything could have happened to you.’

      ‘You’re overreacting.’ Her voice remained assured, but she felt rather than heard her conviction waver. Luca was right. Last night she had played a dangerous game, a stupid game, and her only saving grace had been the man who stood before her, the man who had rescued her. Her shift in feelings startled her, unnerved her, triggering a surge of adrenaline as she struggled with the impossibility of her emotions, praying for a voice of reason to descend.

      She simply couldn’t be attracted to Luca Santanno.

      Surely it was a primitive response he had triggered? She was mistaking gratitude for lust. It took a supreme effort to keep her breathing even, to slow down her rapidly accelerating heart-rate as she urged sanity to prevail. It was gratitude she was feeling, nothing else, and it would serve her well to remember the fact. Clearing her throat, she forced conviction into her words. ‘I knew what I was getting into.’

      ‘Perhaps.’ A muscle flickered in his cheek, but his voice remained soft—weary, even. ‘What if it hadn’t been my room you ended up in? What if another man…?’ The muscle was flickering rapidly now, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘What then?’

      He searched her face, one hand moving up to her hair, stroking the soft blonde sheen, taking in the wide hazel eyes, so much softer without the sharp black kohl, the full rosebud mouth. The soft woman before him was such a contrast to the sophisticated beauty he had first laid eyes on, and it terrified him, truly terrified him what might have happened. The worst-case scenarios played over and over in his mind, kindling a surge of protectiveness, an immeasurable guilt for the pain he had caused.

      ‘But nothing did happen.’ Her voice was strangely high. She was trapped by his eyes, caught in the line of fire and, most surprisingly of all, with no desire to move. ‘I ended up here with you.’ A ghost of a smile trembled across her lips, but still she held his gaze. ‘And you said yourself it wasn’t difficult not to take advantage.’

      ‘I lied.’

      The simple admission hung in the air between them. He was moving closer now, his hand still on her hair, and the other one was working its way around her slender waist. She had every opportunity to move, every chance to step backwards, to brush away his hand, but instead she stood there, trapped by her own inquisitiveness, overawed and overwhelmed by the feelings he ignited. She could almost taste the thrill of sexual excitement in the air, the tingling awareness of her skin. Every tiny hair, every pore, every cell was saturated by his presence, thrilled and terrified at the same time as his deep voice washed over her.

      ‘It took every ounce of restraint I could muster.’

      It had. Closing his eyes for an instant, he remembered holding her, the bliss of her in his arms. He remembered comforting this delicious stranger, the protective feeling she had kindled, and later—when the crying had stopped, when she had curled herself up like a tiny kitten—feeling her hot breath on his hand, the swell of her breasts jutting against him, the tiny grumble as he had tried to move away, one infinitely smooth leg coiling over him, the scent of her, the feel of her. It had taken a super human effort just to lie there, not to respond to the subtle caress of her body. But now, seeing her without make-up, so young, so innocent, he felt the protective feelings that had smouldered, ignite now in a puff. The inevitable sexual awareness of a man and woman sharing a bed magnified. The groomed, sophisticated woman he had first encountered was gone, and in her place was a softer, gentler and infinitely more desirable version.

      She could feel the heat of his palm radiating through her robe, pressing into the small of her back, and hazy, half-forgotten memories of the haven she had found last night emerged. The subliminal messages her body had unwittingly sent were more direct now. Her pink tongue bobbed out in a tiny flick to moisten her lips as her pupils dilated, partially eclipsing the golden rays of her amber stare, totality occurring seconds later as the force of his lips against hers obscured everything other than what was here and now.

      He made her feel safe.

      For the first time in so very long here was a man she could lean on, a man who maybe, just maybe, could make things better. Even if it was only transitory she welcomed the safe haven of his arms, the bliss of oblivion his touch generated. The chance to escape from the world for a while and concentrate on the responses he so easily triggered.

      Responses Felicity hadn’t known she was capable of.

      As his cool tongue slipped between her softly parted lips, as their breath mingled, there was no question in her mind of holding back, no hope of restraint. She felt as if she were falling, freefalling, her body at the elements’ mercy. But there was no fear, just a delicious feeling of abandonment, of freedom, of escape from the chains that had bound her for so long now. She kissed him back, her tongue moving with his, tasting him, and pressed her body against his as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her effortlessly across the room. She revelled in the strength of the arms that held her, the eyes that adored her.

      At the bedside he paused momentarily, those sapphire eyes questioning, his voice thick with lust but laced with concern.

      ‘You are sure?’

      Reason almost stepped in then, sanity almost prevailing. She had never been intimate with a man, but her virginity wasn’t borne of fear, nor some hidden desire to wait for the man of her dreams to come along. Relationships had taken a back seat to exams, to her brother’s ill health, but now here she was, on the brink of discovery, and reason could go to hell. The need to feel him, to be adored by him, to be made love to by him, was overwhelming her. All she wanted was for Luca to lie her down on the bed they had shared, to make her feel every bit the woman she was, to instigate her into the pleasures of her body.

      Oh, she was sure.

      More sure than she had ever been in her life!

      ‘Make love to me, Luca.’

      The desire in her voice was all the confirmation Luca needed, and he laid her down, his breath coming in heavy gasps as her robe fell open, exposing her body. Her breasts spilled out from the soft white fabric and with a low murmur of approval he knelt over her, capturing one glorious swollen nipple in his lips, tracing the pink of the areola with his tongue as she tore at the buttons on his shirt, wrestled with the zipper of his trousers. She needed his skin against hers, to feel him, see him, all of him, and he registered her need, reluctantly leaving the soft sweetness of her breasts to free himself from the last remnants of his clothes. Turning his attention to her robe, he freed her from this final constraint so there were no barriers between them.

      She held him in her hands, marvelling at the strength, and a tiny pocket of fear welled in her throat as he laid her back, slowly parting her legs. The weight of his body above hers was a precursor to the power of his erection. It would hurt, she knew it would hurt, yet she welcomed the pain, welcomed the sting of the first sharp thrust inside her, crying out as he moved deeper, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, wanting more, more of him, for him to take her higher, deeper.

      She could feel herself contract around him, a tight, intimate vice that held him, and the first ripples