It wasn’t—she was right. But nothing about this was fair! He’d been happy before marrying Emmeline. Happy in his life...happy with the endless parade of women he’d taken to his bed.
And now?
He had no damned idea.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, as if waking from a dream and suddenly realising that they were well outside the city.
‘Not much further,’ he promised, his eyes flicking to the clock in the centre of the dashboard, willing the distance to shorten. ‘Close your eyes, cara.’
‘I’m too angry to sleep,’ she snapped, but she did sit back in her seat, and a moment later her eyes fluttered closed.
Her steady, rhythmic breathing informed him that she’d drifted off despite her protestations. He drove the rest of the way in a silent car, but his thoughts were still screaming at him.
What he was planning was stupid, crazy, and he’d decided firmly against it. But after seeing her with those men... He no longer had a choice.
He pulled the car through the electric gates to the farmhouse and then crept up the gravelled driveway.
Though no one lived there, he had a team who kept it permanently tidy and stocked.
His headlights illuminated the pots of geraniums and lavender that stood on either side of the green-painted door.
He went inside, checking from room to room, leaving the bedroom until last. It was an enormous space, with an old iron bed in the middle. The floor was tiled and the shutters were closed over the windows, making it pitch-black. In the morning light would filter through the cracks, and when the shutters were open a stunning view of the countryside would open up, with the ocean glistening beyond the rolling hills.
It didn’t take him long to make the room ready, and then he went back to the car.
Emmeline was still asleep, and he knew the kindest thing to do would be to carry her inside and leave her to sleep.
But fire was raging through his body, tormenting him as much as it was her, and there was only one answer to that.
He opened her door and crouched down, hesitating for a second before pressing his lips to hers.
In her drowsy state, she opened her mouth to receive his and moaned, lifting her hands to curl them around his neck, her fingers twisting in the dark hair at his nape.
‘Pietro...’ she moaned, and he undid her seatbelt then lifted her out of the car in one easy movement. He cradled her against his chest, carrying her with grim determination into the house. He moved up the stairs at the front, through the corridor and then up the flight of internal stairs.
‘Where are we?’ she asked, looking around and then, as if remembering that she was annoyed with him, pushing at his chest. ‘I can walk.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
He shouldered the door of the bedroom open and Emmeline looked around, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Dozens of candles had been lit, casting a golden glow in the room.
The bedroom.
Music was coming from somewhere, a lilting song in his native language that did something strange to her heartbeat.
He placed her down on her feet with care and then straightened, catching her face between his hands. ‘You have two choices, Emmeline.’
‘And what are those?’
‘You may use this room to sleep,’ he said softly, stroking her cheek. ‘Or we will be together here tonight. Your first time. Our first time.’
He dropped his lips to hers softly, studying her, waiting. He felt as if he’d been waiting an eternity already...
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE AIR STRETCHED between them, thin and tense. Emmeline’s heart was rabbiting about in her chest. She’d wanted this for a really long time. Since their wedding? Or since her father had first suggested this hare-brained idea?
The thought of marriage to the charismatic tycoon she’d adored from afar for as long as she could remember had scared the heck out of her—mainly because she’d known she’d find it impossible not to fall head over heels in lust with the confirmed bachelor.
And love? Would sleeping with him blur the lines of what they were, just as he’d said? And was she brave enough to reject him when he was offering something she wanted so badly?
She blinked up at him, doubt making her voice quiet. ‘I’m not tired.’
He expelled a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.
‘Thank God for that.’
And now his patience deserted him.
He balled a hand into her hair, tilting her head back to allow him access, and kissed her as she’d never been kissed before. His tongue duelled with hers, lashing her with his need, and his body was hard and erect as he pushed her backwards onto the bed. She fell and he went with her, lying on top of her as his kiss pressed her head into the mattress and her body writhed beneath him.
A fever of need was spinning from her womanhood through her whole body, making her pant with desperate hunger. And he understood it. It burned in him, too.
‘This is so beautiful,’ she gasped, watching the candlelight flickering against the wall, casting shadows that did something to her insides.
‘Si.’
His hands pushed at the fabric of her dress, lifting it higher, moving it up her body, exposing her long legs to him so that he groaned into her mouth as he felt the expanse of her thigh.
‘You are beautiful,’ he added, dragging his mouth lower, teasing the flesh at the base of her neck.
After a lifetime of not wanting to be beautiful it was strange for her to find those words so seductive, so pleasing. She swallowed.
He flicked the pulse point in her neck that was pounding hard and fast, his tongue a call to arms she couldn’t ignore. Her hands pushed at his jacket and he groaned low in his throat as she arched her back at the same time, needing more, so much more, wanting her to touch him, to
