Her Exquisite Surrender. Lucy Ellis

been so long! This was what she had craved from him. The silky glide of his hard body, those powerful strokes and bold thrusts that made her shiver from head to foot. Her body was so in tune with his. Everything felt so right, so perfect. Her orgasm came speeding towards her, tightening all her sensitive nerve-endings and tugging at her insides, teasing as it lured her towards the edge of oblivion. She cried out as it carried her away on a rollercoaster that dipped and dropped vertiginously.

      She was still convulsing when he came. She felt him tense, and then he groaned out loud as he shuddered and quaked with pleasure, his breathing heavy against her neck where he had pressed his face in that last crazy dash to the finish.

      It was a moment or two before he stepped away from her. His expression was impossible to read as he did up his zip and tucked his shirt back into his trousers. Natalie felt a pang for the past—for a time when he would smile at her in a smouldering way, his arms holding her in the aftermath as if he never wanted to let her go.

      She quickly suppressed that longing, however. She pushed her dress down and her chin up. ‘Was that playing dirty enough for you?’ she asked.

      His dark, unreadable eyes held hers. ‘For now.’

      She felt a delicious little aftershock of pleasure ripple through her as his gaze went to her mouth. Was he thinking of how she’d used to pleasure him with it? He had done the same to her; so many times she had lost count. There had been few boundaries when it had come to sex. She had learned how to enjoy her body with him, how not to feel ashamed of its needs and urges. He had opened up a wild, sensual world to her that she had not visited since.

      She moved away from the wall, wincing slightly as her tender muscles protested.

      His expression immediately clouded with concern. ‘Did I hurt you?’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      He put a hand around her wrist, his fingers overlapping her slender bones, his thumb stroking along the sensitive skin. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have taken things so fast. I should’ve taken my time with you, prepared you more.’

      She gave him a nonchalant shrug and pulled out of his hold. ‘Save the romantic gestures for someone you didn’t have to pay for.’

      A hard glitter came into his eyes. ‘Is this really how you want our relationship to run?’ he asked. ‘As a point-scoring exercise where we do nothing but attack each other?’

      ‘If you’re unhappy with how our relationship runs then you have only yourself to blame,’ she said. ‘You were the one who insisted on marriage. I told you I’m not cut out for it.’

      ‘I wanted to give you the honour of making you my wife,’ he said bitterly. ‘But clearly you’re much more comfortable with the role of a whore.’ He took out his wallet and peeled off a handful of notes. Stepping up to her, he stuffed them down the cleavage of her dress. ‘That should just about cover it.’

      Natalie took the notes out and tore them into pieces, threw them at his feet. ‘You’ll need far more than that to get me to sleep with you again.’

      ‘You’re assuming, of course, that I would want to,’ he said. And, giving her a scathing look, he turned and left.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      NATALIE spent most of the day in her room. She heard Angelo moving about the villa but she refused to interact with him. She was determined to avoid him for as long as she could. Hunger was a minor inconvenience. Her stomach growled as the clock moved around but still she remained resolute.

      It was close to eight in the evening when she heard the sound of footsteps outside her door, and then a light tap as Angelo spoke. ‘Natalie?’

      ‘Go away.’

      ‘Open the door.’

      She tightened her arms across her body, where she was sitting cross-legged on the bed. ‘I said go away.’

      ‘If you don’t unlock this door I swear to God I’ll break it down with my bare hands,’ he said in a gritty tone.

      Natalie weighed up her options and decided it was better not to call his bluff this time. She got off the bed, padded over to the door, turned the key and opened the door. ‘Yes?’ she said with a haughty air.

      The lines that bracketed his mouth looked deeper and his eyes, though currently glittering with anger, looked tired. ‘Can we talk?’ he asked.

      She stepped away from the door and moved to the other side of the room, folding her arms across her middle. She didn’t trust herself not to touch him. Her body had switched on like a high-wattage lightbulb as soon as he had stepped over the threshold. She could feel the slow burn of her desire for him moving through her. Her insides flickered with the memory of his possession. It was a funny sensation, like suddenly stepping on an uneven surface and feeling that rapid stomach-dropping free fall before restoring balance.

      ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

      She sent him a chilly look. ‘Fine, thank you.’

      He drew in a long breath and then released it. ‘What happened this morning … I want to apologise. What I said to you was unforgivable.’

      ‘You’re right,’ she said, shooting him another deadly glare. ‘And, just for the record, I don’t forgive you.’

      He pushed a hand through his hair. Judging from the disordered state of it, it wasn’t the first time that day he had done so. ‘I also want to apologise for being so rough with you.’ He swallowed tightly and frowned. ‘I thought … I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I didn’t think. I just wanted you.’ His eyes darkened as they held hers. ‘I have never wanted anyone like I want you.’

      Natalie’s resolve began to melt with each pulsing second his eyes stayed meshed with hers. She felt the heat of longing pass between them like a secret code. It was there in his dark as night eyes. It was there in the sculptured contours of his mouth. It was there in the tall frame of his body, pulling her like a powerful magnet towards him. She felt the tug of need in her body; she felt it in her breasts, where they twitched and tingled behind her bra. And, God help her, she felt it rattle the steel cage around her heart.

      ‘Apology accepted,’ she said.

      He came to her and gently cupped her right cheek in his hand, his eyes searching hers. ‘Can we start again?’ he asked.

      She gave a little frown. ‘Start from where?’

      His mouth curved upwards. ‘Hi, my name is Angelo Bellandini and I’m a hotel and property developer. I’m an only child of wealthy Italian parents. I help to run my father’s arm of the business while working on my own.’

      She gave a resigned sigh. ‘Hi, my name is Natalie Armitage and I’m an interior designer, with an expanding sideline in bedlinen and soft furnishings.’ She chewed at her lip for a moment and added, ‘And I have a fear of flying …’

      His thumb stroked her cheek. ‘How old were you when you first got scared?’

      ‘I was … seven …’

      ‘What happened?’

      She slipped out of his hold and averted her gaze. ‘I’d rather not talk about it with a virtual stranger.’

      ‘I’m not a stranger,’ he said. ‘I’m your husband.’

      ‘Not by my choice,’ she muttered.

      ‘Don’t do this, Natalie.’

      ‘Don’t do what?’ she asked, glaring at him. ‘Tell it how it is? You blackmailed me back into your life. Now you want me to open up to you as if we’re suddenly inseparable soul mates. I’m not good at being open with people. I’ve never been good at it. I’m private and