Modern Romance - The Best of the Year. Miranda Lee

around his, and knew that it wasn’t pain or discomfort that had made her turn away.

      His last moment of semi-rational thought, he remembered, had been just before he’d come into Sam’s mouth, his body thrusting against her, his hands holding her head so that he could— He cursed and got up off the bed, a restless jagged energy filling his body.

      She’d always pushed him further than any other woman. He’d looked down at her when she’d taken her mouth from him—that wicked device of a torture more pleasurable than he could ever remember. She’d smiled at him and it had been full of something inherently feminine and mysterious... Rafaele’s first insidious thought had been...Did she do that with him? The lover she’d taken? Had he been the first to experience her mouth around him, taking him in so deep that he’d not been able to pull back but had gone to the brink and over it... Had she milked him the same way?

      The thought had made him see red. He’d felt exposed—far more exposed than just being naked in front of her. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. It had had echoes of the past, when he recalled his mother looking at his father so dispassionately, even though he was broken, at her feet.

      And suddenly Rafaele had wanted to regain control of a situation that was careening out of all control. He’d been losing it. So he’d bound her...so she couldn’t touch him and make him forget again...but he’d still lost it anyway. Tying her up had only heightened the experience, making it even more erotic, compelling...and it had done nothing but highlight the fact that even while restrained she exerted a power over him that he couldn’t deny.

      He grabbed some clothes and pulled them on perfunctorily. Rafaele’s gut felt sick as he left his room. She’d been crying. He looked in her room first, but it was dark and the bed was untouched. Then he went downstairs.

      He found her in the drawing room, standing at the window through which he could see a full moon hanging low in the sky. On Sam his shirt reached down to the backs of her thighs. Her legs were long and slim underneath. She looked incredibly fragile in the voluminous white material.

      ‘Sam...’

       CHAPTER NINE

      SAM’S SHOULDERS TENSED. Rafaele padded silently towards her on bare feet and she turned around, as if afraid he’d come too close. He saw a tumbler in her hand with a dark golden liquid.

      She smiled and it was tight, lifted the glass towards him. ‘Chin-chin.’ And then she took a deep gulp, draining the glass.

      He saw her cheeks flush but she made no sound. The evidence of tears was gone but her eyes looked huge, bruised.

      ‘Sam...’ He spoke through a sudden constriction in his throat. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you...’

      ‘You didn’t hurt me, Rafaele, I enjoyed it. You’ve obviously developed a kinkier side since I knew you... Was it any mistress in particular? Or is it just a sign of the times—routine sex is too boring?’

      Rafaele gritted his jaw. He knew that Sam had been with him all the way because he’d felt the excitement in her body pushing him on...her distress had come afterwards...

      ‘I’ve never done that with another woman,’ he admitted reluctantly. He’d never felt the need to.

      Sam emitted a curt laugh and raised a dark brow. ‘So it’s just me? I should feel flattered that I made you so angry you felt you had to restrain me...?’

      Rafaele frowned, losing the thread. ‘Angry?’ Had it been that obvious? His fit of jealousy and vulnerability?

      But Sam was continuing. ‘I know you’re angry about Milo, Rafaele, but you can’t take it out on me like this.’

      Half without thinking, Rafaele said, ‘But I’m not angry about Milo.’

      He realised in that moment that he truly didn’t feel angry about that—not any more. It had faded and been replaced by a much darker anger...stemming from this woman’s unique ability to make him lose his self-control and lose sight of what was important to him. Anger that he felt so vulnerable around her.

      But Sam seemed not to have heard him. She came closer to put the empty glass down and Rafaele could see the tantalising curve of her breast through the haphazardly tied shirt. Instantly his lower body was on fire, reacting. He had a momentary revelation: he was never going to get enough of this woman, not even in a lifetime. It would never burn out between them, only grow brighter.

      Rafaele was stunned, his head expanding with the terrifying knowledge that he would never be free of this insatiable need. He was barely aware of Sam walking out of the room. His brain was working overtime, trying to take in the knowledge that had come to him earlier, before he’d really been ready to deal with it, that he couldn’t let her go. And now it was the most obvious thing in the world.

      * * *

      Sam gripped the bannister as she went up the stairs. Rafaele might have just said that he wasn’t angry about Milo...but he was still angry with her. It was as clear as day. Maybe it was because he wanted her and resented himself for it?

      Any control she’d clawed back before Rafaele had appeared and during that brief conversation had drained away again, leaving her feeling shaky. Somehow she got to her room, closed the door behind her and sagged against it. Tears pricked her eyes. Again. More tears for the man downstairs whom she would probably never be able to read.

      Sam was too drained to deal with buttons. Her body was made weak from pleasure and sensation. She ripped Rafaele’s shirt, making buttons pop and fall silently to the ground, and crawled into bed. In the morning she would shower and wash the scent of sex off her skin, but right now—treacherously—she didn’t want to. In spite of what had happened.

      * * *

      ‘Rafaele said that we’ll be leaving in an hour for Rome.’

      Sam looked up with a studied air of nonchalance at Bridie, who had just come into the dining room. ‘Oh?’

      Bridie had Milo by the hand and he ran over to Sam, who picked him up and hugged him close, revelling in his sturdy body and sweet baby scent.

      Bridie helped herself to some coffee and asked, ‘How was the function last night?’

      When Sam had woken that morning and come downstairs Bridie, Milo and Umberto had evidently already eaten, because the detritus of breakfast had been at the table but they had not. To her intense relief it appeared as if Rafaele had eaten also, as his place at the head of the table had already been used.

      ‘It was...very swish,’ Sam replied, knowing Bridie would love to hear about all the gowns and luxury. She took the cowardly way out and detailed to Bridie all of those things, while trying to ignore the disturbing memories threatening to spill into her mind at any given moment.

      * * *

      It took less than an hour to get from Milan to Rome and they arrived by lunchtime. Rafaele had arranged for one of his assistants to meet them at the airport with a car, and Bridie was whisked off in it to the Vatican, for the private tour Rafaele had arranged for her—much to her delight.

      Another car was waiting for them, and Sam saw that Rafaele was going to drive them himself as he deftly secured Milo into the child’s car seat installed in the back. It made Sam think once again of how seamlessly Rafaele had incorporated Milo into his life and her heart ached to think of what might have happened if she had told Rafaele from the start about her pregnancy.

      Sam got into the car and her heart thudded heavily when Rafaele settled his powerful body behind the wheel. So far this morning she’d managed to avoid saying anything more than yes or no.

      He glanced at her now and she had to acknowledge him. She turned and his gaze on her was intent. Her face grew hot as lurid images from the previous night came back.

      ‘Okay?’ he asked, disconcerting her because there