She could feel the thud of his heart echoing through her own bloodstream, and leaned into him, resting her forehead against the muscularity of his chest, her legs shaking under her, waiting for what would be.
When the gush of water stopped, Luca put his hand under her chin, tilting her face up towards his.
He said gently, ‘I will say again—you have nothing to fear, I promise you.
Nothing.’ And let her go.
Afterwards, when they had gone back to the rock and dried themselves, Ellie produced her sun lotion and Luca lay, propped up on an elbow observing her, his dark gaze candidly intent, as she applied the liquid to her slender legs, her arms, her midriff, and, having carefully removed the halter strap, the faint swell of her breasts above the bikini top.
She said with a catch in her breath, ‘Why are you watching me?’‘You know why, mia bella.’ There was a smile in his voice, as he stretched out a hand for the bottle.
‘So there is no need to play games.
Permit me to attend to your back, per favore.’She turned over, lying face downwards on her towel, her body rigid, hands clamped to her sides, trying to subdue the uncertain clamour of her pulses.
Luca began with her shoulders, his touch as gentle as she had hoped—or perhaps dreaded.
As he smoothed the lotion into her heated skin with light, circular movements, Ellie found her fists slowly beginning to unclench and the tension in her muscles relaxing.
His hand moved downwards, and she flinched instinctively as he released the clip that fastened her bra.
‘No—please.’‘Will it also please you to have a mark across your back?’ he asked softly, as his fingertips anointed the delicate, untrammelled contour of her spine.
There seemed no answer to that, and the lingering stroke of his hands on her body was making her so breathless she probably couldn’t have spoken anyway, she thought, closing her eyes and giving herself up to pure sensation.
He did not hurry, finishing his ministrations decorously about a centimetre above the band of her bikini briefs.
‘Now you will not burn.’But she was scorching already, every fibre of her being, each bone, each drop of blood in her starved body coming alive, its long-suppressed hunger crying out for appeasement—for a satisfaction that had up to now only existed in her imagination.
That she had tried so hard to teach herself to live without, while struggling at the same time to endure those brief, unhappy encounters in the marriage bed.
Until endurance threatened to turn into heartbreak and became utterly impossible.
A voice she did not recognise mumbled ‘Grazie.’‘Prego,’ Luca returned and she felt the swift brush of his lips on the nape of her neck before he turned away to stretch out on his own towel.
She pretended to doze, keeping her eyes closed, letting her breathing slow to a quiet rhythm, but her body was wide-awake, in thrall to this delicious agony of need that his touch had engendered.
Which he must realise, she thought unhappily.
He was an experienced man who’d know exactly what effect even the most casual caress would have.
Who intended it to arouse and incite.
To make her want him.
Because—hadn’t seduction been his purpose ever since he’d walked into the trattoria some forty eight hours earlier and seen her there? She swallowed.
After all, he’d hardly made a secret of it.
Had he? And her rejection of him had only made him more determined, if only to heal his damaged male ego.
I should never have let this begin, she thought desperately.
I should have gone while I had the chance.
Headed south.
Found a small pensione somewhere equally unfashionable and played the waiting game until I could call Santino and check that Luca had gone and it was safe to return.
But it was pride that kept me here.
Wanting to prove to myself that I could cope with the situation and keep him at arm’s length.
That very same pride that took me away from Vostranto.
The need to convince myself that I was in charge of my own destiny and needed to take the initiative.
To jump before I was pushed.
Yet how could I have imagined that something like this could ever happen? That he could suddenly appear like this, turning my life upside down, so that I no longer know what to do—or even who I am any more?But it’s left me with only one certainty—that if I let him any closer to me, I’ll be lost forever, faced with a lifetime of regret.
And I cannot afford that, especially when all he wants is a few hours’ entertainment.
Because there can’t be any more to it than that and he has to know that.
Has to.
And she went on lying silently there, only a few inches away from him, the ache of desire in her body fighting the turmoil in her mind.
Knowing she would only have to stretch out a hand to touch him while reciting all the very real and cogent reasons to do no such thing.
Recalling another time when the urge to touch a man—to offer him her body—had almost overwhelmed her and reminding herself, too, of the unhappiness that would inevitably have followed if she’d given way.
The shame she would have felt after revealing her innermost feelings and needs to someone whom she knew neither loved nor cared for her in the ways that mattered.
The misery of discovering where his desires were truly centred.
Luca was the opposite of the husband she had left, but he was equally an enigma, his motives inexplicable.
Which made him even more dangerous.
And the feelings he’d so effortlessly awoken in her—the longing to be touched as a woman, taken—would, in the end, lead only to disaster because there could be no lasting commitment from him either.
Caught up as she was in these mental struggles, she was suddenly jolted by the touch of his hand on her shoulder and rolled away from him with a gasp, remembering too late that her top was unfastened.
A wave of heated crimson swept up from her toes as she hastily covered her bare breasts with her hands, but Luca merely picked up her bikini bra and handed it to her without comment.
Once she was safely covered again, he said, glancing at the sky, ‘It is becoming hotter than ever, so I suggest we look for somewhere with shade to have lunch.’She took a deep breath, words of polite but resolute denial forming in her head that would finally and inexorably convince him he was wasting his time, only to hear herself say huskily, ‘Yes—that seems a good idea.’They chose a bar at the end of the promenade, sitting at a table under its striped awning to eat large prawns grilled on skewers accompanied by rice salad and fresh bread, and drink cold local beer.
It was delicious, messy and relaxed in a way she wouldn’t have dreamed it could be.
And he talked to her—asking her tastes in music, books, and the theatre.
Making her laugh with his frankly cynical comments about the political situation.
Seeking her views on topics like the global economy and climate change.
Avoiding the questions she knew she would have found impossible to answer.
At the same time, at every moment, she was aware of his eyes on her, sometimes smiling, sometimes searching, always brilliant in their intensity.
Aware of the proud lines of his nose and cheekbones—and how that lord-of-creation look softened when his mouth curved in amusement.
Found herself watching him as if mesmerised.
As if to gaze forever would not be enough.
Felt the ache of forbidden necessity deep within her.
The helpless, shameful thrust of her hardening nipples against the confines of her bikini.
And when the meal was over, the bill paid, and Luca stood up, saying softly, ‘Helen, mia carissima, I think it is time for a siesta,’ she went with him willingly, her hand clasped in his, back to Casa Bianca.