All that he wanted.
How long the kiss lasted he did not know. Time had stopped. Collapsed upon itself. How long had it been since he had last tasted her mouth with his? That final morning, after making love to her? The day he’d left London, his posting finished, his return to Rome required?
More than required—desired.
Because if he hadn’t gone back to Rome—if he hadn’t thrown at her what he’d had to throw at her… If he hadn’t ended it the way he had…
Their kiss now…sensual, arousing, sating…was dragging him back. Back into the past he’d walked away from. And it was telling him exactly…exactly…why he’d had to walk away from her.
Instinctively, he felt himself draw her pliant, yielding body against his, and all the while his mouth was deepening the kiss, seductively, languorously, tasting and taking, taking and tasting. He could feel the soft swell of her breasts against his chest, feel them engorge, feel their hips meet…feel himself engorge…
Arousal deepened as his fingers speared into her hair. He could feel his hunger build. Desire mount…
It was madness. In some small, remote part of his brain he knew it was madness.
But it was impossible to draw back…impossible to let her go. All he wanted was to feel her breasts peaking against his, feel thearousing frottage of her arousal, the low moan in her throat as their mouths met and mated…
Her hips were straining against his, fuelling his own arousal, feeding this madness…
He wanted more…so much more…
The years between them vanished, as if they had never been, and he yielded to the madness possessing him.
Until—
The violence of her wrenching herself away from him made his hand fall from her nape, loosened by force his hold on her wrist. And then she took a razored breath, her hand flashing up, descending again with force to catch his cheek.
The blow was sharp, stinging. Her words a vehement hiss as she reared away from him.
‘Thatisassault!’
Her voice was breathless, panting. She surged past him, gaining the French windows, yanking them open. She turned. Her eyes were pinpricks of black fury.
‘Don’tevertouch me again!Ever!’
Then she was gone.
Luca’s hand lifted absently to his stinging cheek, feeling the impact of her slap. She had not held back. But his mind was not on that.
It was on the madness that had just possessed him. The insane, impossible madness…
After six long years…to have Bianca in his arms again…
He should never have allowed it. Never indulged—
CHAPTER FIVE
SOMEONEWASKNOCKINGon her bedroom door. Blearily, Bianca woke from a sleep that had not come until the dawn, and had then brought no rest with it. Only dreams—hot and humid and worse than any nightmare. Worse by far than the nightmares that always ended with Luca pulling himself away from her, his harsh, callous, ‘It’s over, Bianca.Over!’echoing cruelly down the years.
But when she woke to consciousness now it was to a reality that was worse than any dream, any nightmare.
Her face contorted as the memory of what had happened out there on the terrace rushed back into her head.
Oh, dear God—had she really let it happen? Let Luca just help himself to her? Let him kiss her, crush her to him, as he had? Oh, dear God, shehadlet him! Hadn’t protested. Hadn’t prevented him at all! She had kissed him back, opening her mouth to his hungrily, aroused, pressing herself against him, feeling what it did to her body—to his…
She had felt herself respond to him, want more…
Want everything…