Summer Loving. Cathy Williams

against her skin.

      Heat fired through her but she refused to back down. ‘I’m merely playing your game, Cesare. Question is, what are you going to do about it?’

      He gripped her arms and whirled her to face him. ‘You want me to demonstrate the thousand different ways I want you? Now, in front of our daughter?’

      ‘I—’ Words failed her as shame racked through her. This wasn’t the outcome she’d wished for when she’d brazenly flung on the costume. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

      ‘You wanted to make me suffer, sì? Consider yourself successful. I’m burning for you, Ava. Make no mistake about that.’

      Helplessly, she shook her head.

      Without warning, his lips captured her lobe and he bit her less than gently. She barely managed to smother her gasp as hot darts of desire pelted her from head to toe. But, before she could completely melt under his assault, he’d released her.

      By the time she’d opened her eyes, her shirt, warm from the sun, was once again around her shoulders. Cesare stood behind her until she’d folded her arms into them.

      She started to move away but he grabbed her waist.

      ‘Are you satisfied now? Are you pleased with your little experiment?’ He pulled her back against him. The solid imprint of his arousal burned hot against her back. This time she couldn’t suppress her moan. But it was a moan of frustration and regret because she knew, much as she’d wanted him to suffer, she’d only succeeded in prolonging her own suffering.

      ‘Yes,’ she managed to say.

      ‘Good, because this is as far as you’re ever going to get, Ava.’

      Her heart cracked and her legs threatened to give way. ‘Why? Have you developed a premature ejaculation problem?’ she mocked, unwilling to concede defeat despite every atom in her body wanting to slink away in shame.

      Cesare gave a husky laugh. ‘Far from it, bella,’ he taunted, even as he pressed himself closer. ‘But you want a divorce, remember? So, technically, my hard-ons no longer belong to you. Think about that the next time you decide to test the fires so brazenly, tesoro mio.’

      With supreme effort, she snatched herself from his arms. She stumbled a few steps before stopping to drag air into her lungs. When she was certain she could stand without collapsing, she tugged the folds of the shirt together. Her fingers shook too hard to button it, so she just held it with one hand.

      When she risked a glance at Cesare, he’d wrapped a large towel around his waist and now sat on the edge of a sun lounger, his eyes tracking his daughter as she exhibited her newly learned crawl. His fists were bunched tight on his thighs and his breathing was shallow, as if he’d run a marathon.

      Without a word, she turned and went inside as fast as her legs could carry her. The bikini ripped as she tugged it off. Staring at the garment in her shaking hands, she felt a huge lump wedge in her throat.

      She’d pushed them both to the limit. And what had that proved? They were still as hot as hell for each other...and? And nothing.

      Hot sex could never sustain a marriage that had been doomed from the beginning. Deep down, she knew that.

      Ava sank onto the side of the bed and finally admitted to herself the reason why she’d felt the need to test his resolve.

      Her marriage was well and truly dead. It was time to accept it.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      ROME IN JULY was a seething, vibrant mass of sensible locals who sought shade and tourists who defiantly basked in the rapidly soaring temperatures. Ensconced in the limo heading towards the restaurant where they were meeting Cesare’s parents, Ava was grateful for the air-conditioner. What she wasn’t safe from were the thoughts reverberating in her head.

      This is as far as you’re ever going to get.

      She tried to push the haunting words away. They pounded harder, bringing with them a dreadful sinking in her stomach. When her phone buzzed, she pounced on it, only to frown as she saw the text sender.

      ‘It’s Agata Marinello again. She’s whining about your continued silence. Why don’t you just tell her you won’t be attending the wedding and be done with it so I can have a bit of peace? Or am I so far in the dog house you can’t even be bothered to find the key and let me out?’

      Cesare looked up from the electronic tablet he’d been working on since they’d transferred from helicopter to car.

      ‘Why would you be in the dog house?’ His voice was coolly neutral.

      Her fingers tightened around her phone. ‘Really, are we going to play this game?’

      ‘No, there will be no more games, cara. I think we’ve reached an understanding on where we both stand. Finally.’ His cool demeanour was nothing like the held-together-by-a-thread aroused male he’d been at the pool.

      He’d picked her up from her meeting dressed in a custom-made suit, polished shoes, sunglasses in place, looking intoxicatingly magnificent, as always.

      After seeing him in casual clothes every day for almost two weeks, the sight of him dressed for business, his dynamic persona in place, only made her agitation worse.

      The short drive down to the helipad and the flight into Rome been accomplished in near silence, save for Annabelle’s chatter.

      ‘You intend to freeze me out for the foreseeable future? That’s fine. But can you find half a minute and text Agata and tell her you’re not attending her precious son’s wedding? Because her texts are seriously driving me insane. And I won’t be accountable for my actions if she keeps it up,’ she warned.

      He shot her a hooded, speculative look before he nodded. ‘I’ll get in touch with her before the close of play today.’

      ‘Thank you. You can go back to ignoring me now.’

      After checking Annabelle still dozed in her car seat, she stared out of the window as the car edged around the Trevi Fountain and headed west towards Campo de Fiori.

      His tablet pinged as he shut it off. She knew the moment he turned to stare at her, the weight of his gaze so heavy, anxiety ratcheted several notches higher.

      ‘Ava—’

      ‘I’m sorry, okay?’

      He stiffened, his fingers tightening around the stylus he’d been working with.

      Pain settled in her chest as she recalled how those hands had felt on her, once upon a time. How spell-bindingly erotic they could be.

      A car horn blasted, making him turn momentarily to glance out of the window. Sunlight glinted off his black mane, casting it a glossy blue-black. His profile, stunning and powerful, hit her in the solar plexus, causing her breath to lodge in her lungs. She didn’t know why she was surprised by her reaction.

      Cesare, even with the slightly crooked nose sustained during a boxing match in his youth, was as close to physical perfection as any man could get. The urge to touch him made her fists clench until her nails bit into her palms. Sitting this close to him and stopping herself from touching was pure torture.

      For a second, she regretted not insisting on staying in Lake Como. She glanced at him again and considered returning to the villa.

      Wuss.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she forced out again. ‘I know I get rash at times. The pool incident...I don’t know what I was thinking.’

      His gaze flicked to Annabelle, and then back to her once he’d assured himself she still napped. ‘I do, and I’m sorry too,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Sex—or the promise of it—has become our fall-back solution to what’s happening between us. I used it to teach you a lesson the day you