‘Then I would caution you to brace yourself for disappointment.’
Her heart lurched alarmingly, echoes of Luigi’s desertion stabbing at her. ‘Because you’re incapable of love?’
He remained silent for another long stretch, and then he shrugged. ‘Because life has a tendency to give you what you want while depriving you of what you need. As to your question... Luigi was Carlotta’s first and only love. I went into our marriage with both eyes open and therefore I wasn’t disappointed.’
‘Not expecting something doesn’t mean you’re not hurt when you’re deprived of it,’ she pushed, her mind racing with different interpretations of his answer.
Was he bitter because his love had been unrequited?
Faye bit her tongue against asking and broke his gaze, suddenly unable to withstand its ferocity. She discarded her glass, prepared to rise.
He stopped her by the simple act of caging her legs between his, leaning forward to place his hands on either side of her hips. She didn’t feel trapped. More compelled to stay put simply by the hypnotic effect he exuded.
‘Are you fleeing because my answers don’t satisfy you?’
‘I’m not. Weren’t we just making conversation?’ She tried for a light tone and failed miserably.
‘Hmm... I had the impression you were trying to understand me, cara. The question is, why? We are going to part in a few weeks, are we not?’ he demanded, a touch of acid in his voice.
‘You’re right. We are. And I’ll never have to think about you again.’
Perhaps the shadows in his eyes were a trick of the sun, but the tightening of his sensual mouth wasn’t. ‘Keep telling yourself that, arcobaleno.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You are under my skin. The same way I’m under yours. There’s no escaping it.’
His voice was sandpaper-rough, perfectly pitched to burrow deep inside her, to places she’d closed off after Matt. And yet he seemed to with effortless ease.
Silence fell between them as his words sank in.
From nowhere, a pulse of potent feminine power flared through her. ‘It’s just our unique circumstances,’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’
One hand moved, tracing the skin where her dress had parted, from mid-thigh to knee, before sliding his hands behind her leg. The sensation was shockingly visceral, enough to draw a gasp.
‘If it helps, I don’t like it any more than you do.’ Before she could respond to that curiously bruising declaration, he continued, ‘You think you will forget me that easily, Faye? When you can’t even remain within touching distance without your every sense clamouring for me?’
Heat washed through her as his fingers kneaded her flesh. ‘I’ll take care of how I feel. Feel free to do the same for yourself.’
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead his eyes conducted a slow, thorough journey, landing in places that highlighted her breathless state, her helpless reaction to him. She knew her nipples were pebbled against her bikini. That a fine tremble had seized her since he’d laid his hands on her. Her fingers were locked hard into the cushions of the lounger just so she wouldn’t reach for him.
‘And what way is that? Do be kind and share, per favore,’ he rasped.
Retreat. Regroup. Anything but sit here, tormented by the need to touch him.
Too late, he saw her struggle. Stoked it.
‘Do it,’ he encouraged thickly. ‘Touch me.’
‘No,’ she said boldly. Then ruined it by trembling.
That drew a wicked smile from him. And the smile grew the longer she remained seated, weakening her further when he leaned in until his lips were a whisper from hers.
‘You’re not a coward. Take what you want. Set us both free.’
She drew in a desperate breath, inhaling his potent scent until every pore of her being was filled with him. Slowly his smile disappeared, replaced by a stark hunger that threatened to eat her alive.