‘Mario has been left in no doubt as to the consequences should he ever dare to come within three feet of you again.’ He hesitated a beat. ‘Ava?’
Mesmerising green eyes held his. ‘I’m still a married woman. I take my vows very seriously.’ She sniffed, and her eyes darkened. ‘Has there been for you?’
He shook his head. ‘We’re still married, mia amante. I would never dishonour you in that way.’
Her eyes darkened and her swollen lower lip trembled. ‘How can you say things like that to me and expect me not to have hope for us?’
His insides clenched. ‘Ava...’
‘For God’s sake, shut up, Cesare. Just...shut up and kiss me.’
He didn’t need to be told twice.
Lust thundering forcefully through him, he went deeper. She was all fire now, voracious and demanding, her hands frantic as they grasped his nape, grabbed his hair and twisted it between her fingers. His heart tore around his chest like a crazed animal. When her full breasts pressed against his chest, he nearly lost his mind.
His hand moved to her back, encountered sleek, smooth flesh. He pulled back, sucked in a deep breath and watched her fight for breath too. The sight of her moistened, kiss-swollen lips made him groan.
‘What?’ she asked huskily. Her fingers still worked through his hair, scraped his scalp. He’d never have imagined such a simple gesture could be erotic, but the fierce throb of his erection indicated otherwise.
‘We’ve arrived at the apartment.’
It took a few seconds for his words to register. In that suspended time, he basked in her warm supple body plastered against him.
Eyes widening, she sprang away from him. The loss was a fist in his gut. She reached for his jacket and settled it around her shoulders and, oddly, Cesare felt comforted that she had a part of him on her. He toyed with asking Paolo to take them on a long drive out of the city but already the door was opening.
She stepped out, exhibiting an obscene amount of leg, and her bare feet made him want to growl some more.
He carried her shoes and trailed her into the building. He’d chosen to lead a separate life away from his wife and child because he hadn’t thought he had what it took to be a husband and father. He’d drifted through each day, doing what needed to be done—making deals, making more money, taking financial care of his parents.
Now he was hyperaware of every passing minute, of every atom of his being poised on a knife-edge of sharp focus. Focus on the woman in front of him, her stunning body and shapely backside swaying underneath his jacket as she strode towards the lift on the balls of her bare feet.
Inside the lift, he caught her to him but didn’t kiss her. If he started he wouldn’t be able to stop.
Once they were inside the apartment, he kicked the door shut with his foot and reached for her. What he grabbed instead was his jacket, held out by Ava with a determined look on her face.
‘Come here,’ he commanded, every muscle tight with need.
She raised her chin, exposing the satin neck that sent his pulse sky-high. ‘No.’
Shock froze him in place. ‘Che?’
She remained defiant and out of reach. ‘I won’t sleep with you just because you’ve decided that you want me again.’
He prowled towards her. She backed away, making him want to pounce on her. He cautioned himself not to. ‘Again? Hell, haven’t we proved conclusively that I’ve never stopped wanting you? Dio, you only have to walk into a room to make me rock-hard for you.’
Heat bloomed in her cheeks, appeasing him somewhat. As did her soft lips parting on a breath. The fierce shake of her head, however, plunged him back towards supreme frustration. Again he tried to reach for her. Again she danced out of his reach. Irritation sizzled through him.
‘As hot as that was intended to make me—’
‘Did I succeed?’
The rapid rise and fall of her breasts gave him his answer. ‘I’m not going to fall into bed with you, Cesare.’
She shook out his jacket like a matador trying to distract a raging bull. He ignored it and focused on his prize. Another step brought him closer to her. He breathed in her scent and acknowledged that his need for her was beyond his own understanding.
And he was infinitely weary of twisting himself into knots about it.
‘Tell me you don’t want me, mia sposa.’
‘You know I do, but I won’t let you toy with me. What happened to—this is as far as you’re ever going to get?’
Unwelcome heat crawled up his neck. For a man who had a superb command of words, he couldn’t compose a suitable answer aside from the pure, unadulterated truth. ‘We both know that bikini should’ve come with a skull and crossbones warning. I was angry with you for killing me with temptation and wasn’t quite myself when I uttered those words.’ Having Ava taunt him with her body when he’d been fighting his desire had been the last straw. He hadn’t liked being held on the knife-edge of control, as he’d been right from the beginning with her.
‘And now you’ve just decided to hell with it?’
Stalking away from her, he tore off his constricting tie and tossed it away. ‘I haven’t decided anything! What I do know is that you’re driving me crazy and...’ His fist clenched. ‘Dammit, Ava, you flaunted yourself so blatantly.’
‘Well, you’re in luck. I’m not flaunting anything any more. Goodnight, Cesare.’
At first he couldn’t comprehend what was happening. By the time the shock wore off, Ava’s deliciously tempting back had disappeared down the hall and into the guest bedroom.
Unclenching his fist, he raked his decidedly unsteady fingers through his hair. Bravo, Cesare. He’d finally succeeded at what he’d been trying to do since Ava returned—he’d pushed her away.
Except satisfaction tasted like ashes and thwarted lust sucked. He swore and paced the room. It was no use asking himself what he’d been thinking.
When it came to Ava, she only had to touch him and he lost his mind. She only had to look at him with those smoky emerald eyes and his senses flamed with the promise of pleasure.
He spotted his briefcase and his jaw tightened. He strode to it and pulled out the papers. The cold, stark words taunted him. With a simple stroke of his name along the dotted line, he could be free of this madness.
But was that his only option?
Ava’s words in the car struck him. From the beginning, he’d known she had a strained relationship with her own family. To all intents and purposes, he and Annabelle were the only family she had. He’d married her, only to leave her to her own devices because he’d been too caught up in his own angst to see clearly.
Was he man enough to start now?
His fist tightened around the papers. On a decisive thought, he ripped them in two. He’d been too long locked in his own pain for his part in Roberto’s seclusion, he hadn’t stopped to think about Ava’s needs when she married him.
A grim smile crossed his mouth. Had Ava asked for a divorce two months ago, hell, even the day before the earthquake, he probably would have granted it. But not now. He ripped the papers until they were indecipherable pieces.
He still didn’t have it in him to offer her what she wanted, but he, if nothing else, was a damned good negotiator. There would be no divorce.
So what now?
Hell if he knew.