Ciro had to forcibly curb the urge to clamp his hands around her face, angle it up towards him and plunder that mouth until she was flushed and her mouth was throbbing with blood.
No other woman had ever had the same effect on him. Instantaneous. Elemental. He vowed right then that she would never see how easily she pushed him to the edge of his control.
He took a step back. Lara had denied him before but she wouldn’t deny him now. She owed him. Owed him her body and the connections a marriage to her would bring him.
‘Well, Lara?’
‘This is the day of my husband’s funeral...have you no sense of decency?’
Ciro could have laughed at her dogged refusal to stop acting. ‘Are you telling me you really cared about the old man?
The thought that she might actually be grieving for her husband slid into his mind for a second before he brutally quashed it. Impossible.
She flushed. With guilt. Ciro didn’t like the rush of relief he felt. ‘Save your energy, cara. Your acting skills are wasted on me.’
‘Stop calling me that. I’m not your cara.’
Her hands were balled into fists by her sides and her eyes were bright blue.
Ciro uncrossed his arms. ‘You never minded it before... If I remember correctly you used to love it.’ He mimicked her breathless voice, ‘“Ciro, what does it mean...? Am I really your cara?”’
‘That was before.’ Lara’s cheeks had lost their colour again.
‘Yes,’ Ciro said harshly, angry that he noticed so much about this woman. Every little tic. ‘That was when you were only too happy to court infamy by becoming engaged to me to alleviate your boredom. What I can’t quite understand, though, is the virginal act? That was a touch of authenticity that deprived us both of mutual pleasure.’
It was excruciating to Lara that Ciro remembered how ardently she’d loved him. How much she’d wanted him.
Without thinking about it, just needing to wound him as he was wounding her, she let words tumble out of her mouth. ‘I never wanted you.’
As soon as she’d said the words she realised her mistake. Colour scored Ciro’s cheekbones, making the scar stand out even more lividly. His eyes burned a dark brown, almost black. She was mesmerised by the fierce pride she could see in his expression. He was every inch the bristling Sicilian male now.
‘Little liar,’ he breathed. ‘You wanted me as much as I wanted you. More.’
He came towards her, closing the gap. Lara’s feet were frozen to the floor. He reached for her, hands wrapping around her waist, pulling her towards him, until she could feel the taut and unforgiving musculature of his body. But not even that could break her out of this dangerous stasis. She was filled with a kind of excitement she’d only ever felt with this man.
She’d thought she’d never feel it again, and something exultant was moving through her, washing aside all her reservations and the sane voices screaming at her to wake up. Pull back.
Ciro’s hands tightened on her waist and his head came down, blocking out the room, blocking out everything but him. Lara’s breath was caught in her throat, nerves tingling as she waited for that firm mouth to touch hers. It was so torturous she made a small sound of pleading...
Ciro heard the tiny sound come from Lara’s mouth. He knew this was the moment when he should pull back. He’d already proved his point. She was practically begging him to kiss her... But his body wouldn’t follow the dictates of his mind. She was like a quivering flame under his hands. So achingly familiar and yet utterly new.
He could feel the press of her high firm breasts, the flare of her hips, the cradle of her pelvis. He burned for her. He’d been such a fool to believe in her innocence. He’d held back from indulging in her treacherous body. But no longer.
Ciro gave in to the wild pulsing beat of desire in his body and claimed Lara’s mouth with his. For a second he couldn’t move—the physical sensation of his mouth on hers was too mind-blowing. And then hunger took over. He could feel her breath, sharp and choppy, and he deepened the kiss, taking it from chaste
to sexual in seconds.
Lara was wrapped in Ciro’s arms, and for a moment she happily gave up any attempt to bring back reality. His touch and his kiss, that masterful way he had of touching her and bringing her alive—she’d dreamed of this so often.
His taste was heady and all-consuming. She barely noticed his hands moving up her body, cupping her face so he could angle it better and take the kiss deeper, make it even more explicit. She craved him. Pressed herself even tighter against him.
The knot at the back of her head loosened and the sensation of her hair falling around her shoulders finally broke through enough for her to falter for a moment. And a moment was all she needed to allow enough air back into her oxygen-starved brain to recall what Ciro had called her. Little liar. And she’d just proved him right.
She stiffened and pushed against Ciro. He let her go and stood back, but it was no comfort. Lara already ached for him. The glitter of triumph in his eyes only added salt to the wound she’d opened.
She felt totally dishevelled and unsteady on her feet. Her cheeks were hot and her mouth felt swollen. She’d just humiliated herself spectacularly.
She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘You had no right to—’