The Correttis (Books 1-8). Кейт Хьюит

was one he wanted to keep, for all he wanted was this.

      ‘This morning I hated the day—’ he was moving so fast within her now ‘—and now…’ She couldn’t understand what he was saying, she was too locked in her own thoughts. Then he was gracing her with Italian, but her brain didn’t attempt to compute, because she felt her thighs starting to shake and this flood of warmth to her groin. But more than that, she was thrashing with her own thoughts, holding back her own words,

      ‘Santo.’ She considered for a brief second that the press outside must have got in, because lights were exploding in her head as if there were a thousand cameras aimed at them. She moaned and writhed and climaxed as Santo moved faster and it was bliss to come first, to just gloat from the podium and savour as he came a delicious last.

      Santo was lost, feeling her pulse around him. He forced his own torture just so that he could feel each flicker and throb, and then gave in.

      Ella watched his face contort and felt the pulse of his relief. Then, as if he might have been hit over the head, he collapsed onto her, the weight precious, the calm of sated. Santo lay there, his face in her hair that was spilled on the pillow, and he was almost nervous to look up.

      It was the lack of condoms that had made it amazing, he told himself.

      Or perhaps that he had wanted her for so long that made it all more intense?

      ‘Santo?’

      He went to move, assumed he was too heavy, except her hair was sliding beneath his face as she turned hers to his, and what Ella couldn’t possibly know as his lips met hers was this was Santo’s first kiss with meaning.

      CHAPTER SIX

      THEY ENDED UP checking out at four.

      In the morning!

      But, ever thoughtful, Santo left a huge tip for the maid.

      The press were still convinced that Alessandro was in the hotel and so, instead of heading out there with soaking wet hair from the shower, Ella took a bit of time to dry it. She stood in bra and panties and put her make-up on and turned herself back into his PA again, but with Santo watching on.

      ‘You like make-up,’ he observed, watching her rouge her cheeks.

      ‘Do I?’ Ella answered, adding mascara and then moving to her lips, but Santo wasn’t paying attention. He had taken out her concealer and was now standing behind her trying to cover up the mess he’d made of her neck. He looked amazing, wearing black jeans and black shirt and, with his eye a vivid purple, he looked sulking and rough. But there was a smile on the edge of his lips as he painted her neck.

      ‘Do you want to borrow it?’ Ella heard the slight edge to her own voice and fought to check it.

      ‘No need.’ He turned her round to face him. ‘I never cover up my mistakes.’

      And she’d have to see them.

      It hit Ella then what she’d signed up for, understood all his ex-lovers’ tears that she’d mopped. She had sworn she could handle just a little bit of Santo, but standing facing him, Ella knew enough about herself to know that already she wanted more. Yes, her notice should have been with immediate effect, because four weeks was way out of Santo’s attention-span range.

      As his mouth moved in to kiss her, as he hoisted her body to him, she could feel him dressed but indecent on her near-naked body and the effect of him made her nervous.

      ‘No.’ She said it too sharply. It came out too tense and quickly Ella qualified. ‘I’ve just done my make-up.’

      And in the world Santo inhabited, it was an entirely appropriate response, just his wasn’t. ‘I could turn you around then…’

      He did just that. As he started to kiss her shoulder she watched his hands sliding over her stomach in the mirror and then she looked to her own eyes and saw her sudden panic, because he was going to be impossible to get over, because forever she would remember this.

      And Ella didn’t do sentiment.

      ‘You’ve got a movie kicking off in a couple of hours and I want to go home.’ She turned and smiled and she meant it. Ella put on her skirt and blouse and her shoes and made idle chit-chat, but she could hear blood whooshing in her ears, was fluttering in mild panic and didn’t want him to see, didn’t want to even give him a hint that he moved her.

      Santo didn’t seem to notice any difference in her. It was Santo who had changed, for this time as he faced her in the lift, he was a different man going down than up. Relaxed even as he headed out, not even bothering to scowl to the media, he saw her into the car, then drove towards Ella’s villa. He needed no direction as he had dropped her off a couple of times before, but she had never asked him in and neither did she now. But Santo was having none of it.

      ‘Make me coffee.’ Santo yawned, because there was another drive ahead now to get to the run-down docklands where they were filming, only Ella wasn’t joining him till Tuesday. ‘And if you do…’ He smiled. ‘I will give you today off.’

      ‘I was already taking it off anyway!’ Ella said as he followed her into her villa. She was just a touch embarrassed—it was pretty sparse, just a small one-bedroom rental. As she headed into the kitchen to put the coffee pot on the stove Santo stayed in the lounge, looking at the few books she had and noticing they were all about directing.

      Noticing, too, that, apart from that, there were no real clues to her.

      He was very used to checking out women’s homes—it was a fleeting game he played—but there was nothing to be learned about Ella here. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him—she was only here temporarily after all—but there wasn’t even a family photo above the fireplace.

      And nothing much about her in her bathroom either, Santo noticed when he excused himself for a moment and shamelessly peered into her cabinets. He did make a mental note of her favourite scent and then smothered a smile, because he had been about to let Ella know, so she could order some, and flowers and jewellery too! Had she not been a woman she had just bedded, Ella would have been told later this morning that the works were needed for her new lover. For once, Santo wasn’t feeling seedy after excess. Nope, there wasn’t even the vague pang of guilt that happened all too often after an empty encounter.

      ‘Coffee!’ he heard her call from the kitchen. Santo glanced into her bedroom, saw the unmade bed and a bra on the floor. As exhausted as he was, as much as he needed to get to work, when he thought of her lying there calling him a bastard into her phone, he could easily have called to her to say to hell with the movie and that he wanted his coffee in bed.

      Instead he headed back to the kitchen, watching as she poured the thick black coffee into two small cups and then sweetened them. She passed one to him and he took a grateful sip.

      ‘For that—’ he smiled ‘—you can turn your phone off till tomorrow.’

      ‘And have you go crazy that I didn’t pick up? I don’t think so.’

      ‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘Just have a day—I’ll deal with anything that comes up. Turn your phone back on when you get there tomorrow.’

      ‘I’ve got some things that need to be done….’

      ‘Nothing that cannot wait. Do them tomorrow and then drive down—maybe get there in the evening. There won’t be much action on set for a couple of days. It will all be setting up and getting to know the others.’

      ‘You’re sure?’ Ella checked, because Santo was a pretty demanding boss, but she really was exhausted.

      ‘Of course I’m sure,’ Santo said. He watched her face closely when he spoke next. ‘Unless you need to keep your phone on in case your family ring…’

      ‘No.’

      He took another sip of his coffee. She really gave nothing at all away.

      ‘Your mother’s