Quickly, she spoke. Wanting…needing…to get in first. ‘No, you don’t.’ She took a breath, a painful one, and looked right at him. Past and present mingled and merged. ‘You don’t need to tell me, Luca. Not this time.’
She swallowed before making herself go on.
‘Six years ago you had to spell it out to me. This time you don’t. I know—’ Her voice dropped. ‘I know it’s over.’
Memory stabbed at her of that day at hispalazzo, when she’d made herself think about the time, one day, when Luca would take his bride there, his newviscontessa, and how until then he would doubtless continue his fleeting liaisons.
And I was one of them. Even that night after Matteo’s party. He simply succumbed to the desire he’s always felt for me…made me his again. For that one night. It would never have been for more…
Luca had stilled, his eyes meeting hers full on.
Slowly, very slowly, he spoke. ‘That’swhat you thought I was going to say?’
And there was blankness, complete blankness, in his voice.
* * *
Luca stared. It was all he could do. That and register that something was changing in her expression. But then things were changing inside his head…rearranging themselves.
Wasthatwhat she’d thought? Was that the reason she’d avoided him—refused to see him, talk to him? Refused to have any kind of meaningful contact with him since the moment she’d slipped from her bed, from his arms?
Enlightenment was dawning through him.
He leant towards her slightly. ‘Is that what you thought I wanted to do to you? Warn you off?’ Incredulity was in his voice.
She was staring blankly at him. ‘Of course I did,’ she said. ‘What else? You did it before, the first time around.’
His hand reached across the table. Folded over hers resting immobile on the stem of her wine glass. Her hand was cold, but his…his was filled with the warmth that was flooding through him.
‘How could you think I would not want you after our night together?’ His voice was a husk. ‘How is it possible that you should think so?’
Relief was filling him, moving up through his body. The tension that had been his companion since he’d woken that morning to find her gone had fled…dissipated as if it had never existed. He’d thought that she regretted what had happened.
‘That night, Bianca, when I made you mine again…’ He took a breath—a ragged one. ‘Por Dio, it was your avoiding me—leaving my arms…the bed—that made me think it wasyouwho did not wantme! That the night we’d spent together was nothing but a mistake! It has been a torment to me—an agony—to think that you rejected me—’
Her expression was changing—he could see it. The change was visible in her face, her eyes. Wonder was filling them…and a glow…a radiant glow. It told him everything he wanted to know. Needed to know. But she was saying it anyway, her voice a breath.
‘How could you think that?’ she asked. ‘How could you ever think that? Oh, Luca—’
He heard the choke in her voice, felt her eyes clinging to his. All of a sudden he pushed back his chair, lifting her hand with his, tightening his fingers over hers. They were no longer cold.
He saw the waiter nearby, summoned him even as he drew Bianca to his feet. ‘Will you hold our order, please?’ he said to the waiter. ‘We’ll call for room service. Later.’
* * *
They barely made it to his room. He rushed her through the door and then swept her up into his arms. Hunger leapt in him. His mouth swooped down on hers as her arms looped about his neck, pulling him against her. He could feel his body react to hers instantly, and hunger leapt even more. He was moving with her, still kissing her, his tongue twining with hers as they tumbled down on the waiting bed. She was rolling him over, on to his back, sliding his jacket from him, loosening his tie, her mouth barely leaving his as she did so, as hungry for him as he was for her.
Then her fingers were at the buttons of his shirt, slipping them rapidly, and she was sliding her hands over his bared chest. He reared up, eager to repay the courtesy. Words were fallingfrom him in between kisses, telling her how irresistible she was, how infinitely desirable, how his hunger for her was consuming him. She gave a laugh, uninhibited and joyous, throwing back her head as she knelt on the bed beside him and he fumbled urgently with the buttons on her blouse. He wanted to rip it from her.
She laughed again, her hands lifting to the back of her head, and a moment later her hair…her glorious Titian hair…was cascading over her shoulders. She shook it free and he seized it with his hands, drawing her mouth to his once again. Her lush breasts were straining from her bra, and he slid his hand beneath the open front of her blouse, unfastening the catch so that her breasts, coral-tipped and engorged, spilled free. A groan broke from him, and his mouth swooped.
She gave a cry of pleasure, her hands going to his head, keeping his mouth on her. Her thighs were splayed, constrained by the tightness of her skirt, and he took instant objection to it. Lifting his mouth away, he flipped her on to her back, reaching for her zip. In seconds the restraining garment was gone, and then it was her turn to minister to him. Her hands reached for his waist, unfastening his belt…more than his belt…
His arousal was mounting, becoming unsustainable. With a groan he shucked himself free of the rest of his useless clothes as she threw aside her blouse, pushed her discarded skirt off the bed, whisked her bra away…her panties.
For a moment they paused, gazing at each other. He was ready for her…so ready…and she was ready for him. They were hungry for each other…
Memory seared in his head. Their lovemaking in that long-ago time of heady passion and desire had been eager and fervent. They had gloried in each other’s bodies, fulfilled, taken to the heights that they could give each other and take for themselves, free and uninhibited.