Bound to the Sicilian's Bed

‘What?’ she said, in what was surely the most pointless question of all time.

‘Turn around,’ he said.

She told herself she was going to resist—but how could she? She felt herself turning in response to his sultry command and suddenly realised it wasn’t resentment she felt, but relief. Yes, relief. Because wasn’t this shimmering feeling of excitement better than the half-dead way she’d felt at the end of their marriage? Wasn’t it good to feel properly alive again in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time? ‘What do you want, Rocco?’

‘You know damned well what I want.’ His lips twisted into a predatory smile. ‘I want you.’

And, oh, the feeling was mutual. She wanted him to take away this terrible aching and the deep well of loneliness inside her but it was a risk—and a big one. What if having sex only increased her desire for him instead of killing it? Restlessly she shifted beneath his shadowed gaze, knowing it was a risk she was prepared to take because the thought of sending him away was intolerable. One more night, that was all. One night to finally rid herself of these lingering demons. All she needed to remember was to be on her guard against unwanted emotion because it had no place in what was about to happen. Rocco was programmed to want sex and she was programmed to want something deeper—because that was what women did. And love was something she would never get from Rocco Barberi.

So she stood beneath the silver spotlight of the moon and wondered if her expression gave away the hunger which was snaring her with its silken tendrils. He was wearing nothing but jeans—the top button undone so that dark hair arrowed down towards the ridge-like bulge pushing against his crotch. His chest was glowing and an arrogant smile was curving his lips as if he was already anticipating her surrender. And Nicole knew then that if she did this, it was going to have to be on her own terms.

She needed to remember they were equals. He wasn’t her boss and soon he wouldn’t even be her husband. This was physical, that was all. It was what grown-ups did. They had carefully considered sex which they could walk away from with nothing but a glow of satisfaction. She tried to iron out the emotion from her voice but she could hear an underlying tremble as she answered him. ‘So what are we going to do about it?’

‘I think you know the answer to that.’ In the moonlight his eyes glittered. ‘Get undressed,’ he said softly.

CHAPTER SIX

THE CONTROL IN Rocco’s voice threatened to destroy the sensual mood which had ensnared her and Nicole stared at him resentfully. Did he think she was the same grateful virgin he’d first seduced, who would do whatever it was he demanded?

She held his gaze, her chin tilting as he studied her with cool calculation. ‘What did you say?’

He gave a soft laugh. ‘You heard.’

‘I want you to repeat it, Rocco.’

There was a pause. ‘I told you to get undressed.’

‘To perform a striptease for you, you mean?’

He shrugged. ‘If you like.’

‘Well, I don’t like,’ she said. ‘Not any more. I’ve changed, Rocco—haven’t you?’

His eyes gleamed but he didn’t answer her question directly. ‘So why don’t you tell me what you do like?’

And despite everything she knew and everything she had learnt, Nicole found herself wishing for the impossible. Wanting him to say something romantic. To tell her he’d missed her and his life hadn’t been the same since she’d gone. Wouldn’t a few tender words enhance what was about to happen, even if he didn’t mean them? So that for a while she could pretend he cared, as she’d pretended so often in the past. But that would be a pointless thing to do because grown-ups didn’t demand hypocritical words. They accepted things exactly the way they were. And this was sex—farewell sex or break-up sex, whatever you wanted to call it. One last taste of Rocco Barberi’s magnificent body—and hadn’t she better make the most of it?

Raking her fingers back through her still-damp curls, she was aware that her hardened nipples were thrusting against her T-shirt and his eyes were following the movement, like a man hypnotised. Briefly she revelled in a feeling of power as she met the smoky hunger of his gaze. ‘I want you to take off my clothes for me,’ she said huskily. ‘And to do it as slowly as possible. I want you to test your own patience—so we’re both so turned on that we can’t bear it a second longer. That’s what I’d like, Rocco.’

His eyes narrowed, suspicion shadowing them. ‘Since when did you start having fantasies like that?’ he demanded, in a low voice. ‘Has there been another man?’

‘You think I don’t have any kind of imagination? Or that I’m incapable of articulating my own desires unless a man shows me how? Oh, wow.’ She shook her head. ‘Thanks for reminding me how unspeakably arrogant you can be, Rocco—and for making me realise that this would be a very bad idea.’

She went to walk past him, her hair swaying in the breeze from the terrace, but he caught hold of her and pulled her up hard against him. She could feel her breasts flattening against his bare chest through her T-shirt and hear the wild patter of her heart.

‘I don’t think you want to go anywhere, do you, Nicole? Not really. You just want to play provocative and you want me to do the same.’ His finger traced down the side of her face, before coming to rest against the throbbing pulse at her neck. ‘Have I got that right?’

She attempted a shrug which didn’t quite come off because showing bravado was one thing—but not quite so easy when his face was just inches away and all his hard, honed flesh was this close. ‘I?

?m not slipping into old patterns,’ she said huskily. ‘I’m not stripping for you just because you’ve snapped your fingers. I don’t want to play those games any more. If you want me naked, then you’ll have to undress me yourself.’

A smile touched his lips. ‘Is that so?’

She nodded, unable to speak because now his hand was drifting from her face down her body and she wished her T-shirt weren’t so baggy. What had possessed her to wear such an unflattering garment? As if he’d read her thoughts, he rucked up the material to slip his hand underneath so that his fingertips were on her bare skin and her nerve-endings were instantly fired as she felt that first light touch.

‘So how slow would you like me to go?’ he questioned almost conversationally as he cupped one of her breasts luxuriously in the palm of his hand and began to massage the underside of it with the edge of his thumb. ‘How long shall I take before I remove this delightful piece of clothing you’re wearing?’

Nicole’s knees sagged. ‘Oh,’ she said breathlessly.