This insistent need had only been intensified by the attention Elizabeth had given her all day. The bronze dress, alluringly diaphanous, shimmered with bronze and gold sequins which gave the fine fabric its modesty, although it clung to her body as if it had been poured over her. The swell of her breasts which, given the backless design of the dress, had to be braless, was clearly accentuated. As was her slender waist and her hips. The sexy creation hugged her hips, then flared out, but any more detail was lost on him. All he could do was think about her legs and how they had once wrapped around him as he’d thrust into her when he’d been the man to claim her as his—and soon she really would be.
‘I have a mind to take you straight back into the bedroom and remove that dress.’ He struggled to stabilise his hoarse voice and bit down hard against the rise of hot, throbbing desire which pulsed through him at the thought of doing just that. How had he thought he could keep things neutral with this woman when she’d been in his mind ever since he’d woken to find her gone?
‘Is it not suitable?’
Her soft voice wavered anxiously and she brushed those sexy tousled curls back from her face. Maledizione! Did she know what she did to him?
She was stunning, beautiful—and the mother of his child. She was now his fiancée. Less than a week ago he had been a single man, a carefree bachelor to whom marriage and commitment had been very much avoidable.
Now he had the responsibility of his child. That thought briefly sobered his desire-infused mind, dredging up his past for inspection once more. He pushed the sabotaging thoughts aside and looked again at the beautiful woman who was to be his wife.
‘It has achieved all that I hoped for, cara, and I am certain that I will not be the only man to want to do just that this evening.’ His voice remained hoarse with desire, just as desire lingered in his body, not quite extinguished.
As she frowned in confusion he crossed the room to her, unable to resist the urge to touch her, to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, his lips. Dio mio, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman—even more than he’d wanted her that first night in London.
He saw the moment she realised his intention, saw her step back, saw the blush spread over her face and it made him want her more. He’d never been so hungry for a woman and he’d never had to control such desires. He was used to getting what he wanted, and right now he wanted this Australian redhead—badly.
‘No.’ That sharp, short word cracked through the sexually charged air and she stood in glorious defiance, her chin lifted, her shoulders back and those lovely green eyes sparking icy fury at him. ‘We made a deal, Dante, one that doesn’t include such things. We are not a real couple.’
‘Sì, cara, you are right. Mi dispiace.’ English mixed with his native Italian as he fought for control over his response to seeing her like this.
One thing it did prove was that she was definitely unfinished business. Would the deal he’d struck with her be enough to keep him at a distance? It should be—as should the fact that he never wanted to care for anyone again, never wanted to be responsible for another person’s happiness. He was done with caring, done with losing a piece of himself when a person left, and Piper had made it clear that she intended to leave once the minimum term of their marriage had been completed, taking with her his child. No, he mustn’t allow emotions to cloud this deal.
‘Just as long as we understand one another.’
Her deep and fast breathing told him she was far from unaffected by what had almost happened, even if her words were cold and to the point. She might not want to be his wife, but she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
‘Very clearly, cara, and now we should go. I have timed our arrival to create maximum impact and so begin the talk of our engagement within the media.’
She looked down at the ring on her finger, her curled hair sliding off her shoulder in a way that was so sensual it almost undid all the control he’d fought hard to regain. He knew what she was thinking as she looked at the symbol of their deal. The platinum band set with a single large diamond would certainly be noticed. There would be no doubt that they were engaged.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said, with a new strength sounding in her voice. ‘The sooner you achieve your aims, the sooner we can return to something resembling normal. I can go back to London and you can continue as if this never happened.’
‘That may not be possible for a while. It is going to be hard to prove to Bettino D’Antonio that I have reformed my ways without you at my side, but there is time later to discuss this—the car is waiting.’ The thought of her returning to London so soon unsettled him, but he wasn’t ready to explore why.
All too soon they were ensconced in the elevator, and her perfume brought back memories of that morning at his office a few days earlier. Then he had thought his imagination was playing tricks on him when the lingering scent in the elevator had brought her so quickly to his mind. The scent was evocative of that night in London, of the passion they’d shared, and now as they got into the car it reminded him far more than he could tolerate.
He studied her as she sat, determinedly staring forward while the car made its way through Rome’s traffic, and wondered if she too felt the zing of electricity which connected them, gaining strength each day.
‘Goodness,’ she gasped and looked at him, her green eyes vivid and wide. ‘So many cameras. I don’t think I can do this.’
He took her hand and looked into the depths of green which reminded him of the forests of Italy in summer. ‘You can. I’m with you.’
Her gaze held his and the connection between them intensified, sending off sparks around them. He had to kiss her—had to feel her lips beneath his and the soft swell of her breasts against his chest as he held her. He had to wrap his arms around her and feel her pliant body melt against his. He couldn’t resist her any longer.
He leant closer. She didn’t pull away, didn’t move back, and her eyes darkened until they resembled the deepest ocean. She wanted him too. Despite the icy indifference she was hiding behind, she wanted him. A pulse of lust hurtled through him as she nervously moistened her lips with her tongue, the movement taking his gaze from those dark desire-filled eyes. She wanted him.
* * *
‘I can’t do any of this...’ Piper whispered as Dante leant closer. He was going to kiss her. Instinctively she recognised the inky blackness which had filled his eyes, obliterating the brown completely, and she was powerless to resist. She couldn’t move—couldn’t do anything except wait to feel his lips on hers and hate herself for wanting that kiss, needing it.
He whispered something so seductive-sounding it could only be Italian, and she closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, sending shockwaves of tingles throughout her body. Then his hands held her face, imprisoning her as he pressed a deep and scorching kiss to her lips. She sighed softly when hot desire sparked to life within her, just as it had that night in London—as if nothing had changed. She sighed again and responded, and her breathing quickened as the kiss deepened.
What was she doing?
‘No.’ She pushed against him, her breath coming hard and fast. Every nerve in her body sang with awareness for him but she couldn’t let it happen again, couldn’t give in to it. ‘I can’t.’
He smiled at her, so sure of himself, completely convinced that just one kiss would have her tumbling back into his bed. ‘You just did, cara.’
‘I don’t mean that.’ She adopted a dismissive tone, as if being kissed to within an inch of her sanity was a perfectly normal occurrence. ‘I mean all those photographers out there. I can’t be