The Italian's Virgin Acquisition

Especially since she suspected that Sebastiano’s superficial guise was a way to keep the world at bay just as her sarcasm often achieved the same result. In that they were alike.

Disconcerted by that observation, she glanced up to find him watching her with a hunting stillness that caused her breath to back up in her lungs. The tension in his large frame was palpable and her pulse raced.

She shivered, doing her best to suppress the desperate ache that had bloomed deep inside her. Right now she could walk away from this fake arrangement unscathed. It was important that she remember that because, while her heart might think that throwing herself at Sebastiano was a great idea, her sensible side was of the opposite opinion.

Taking a deep breath, she zoned in on her sensible side. Anything was better than being at the mercy of her more dangerous, libidinous one that wanted nothing more than for her to throw herself at him.

‘So is this what you normally do on the anniversary of your parents’ deaths?’ she queried lightly. ‘Get drunk?’

Sebastiano held up his half-empty Scotch glass like a proud Boy Scout presenting a shiny new badge. Then he turned to refill it. ‘I think your judgmental side is showing again, Miss Connolly.’

Ignoring his dig, Poppy moved closer. ‘Wouldn’t it be nicer to be with other people on a night like this? People who care about you? Like your family? A girlfriend?’

‘Inviting a woman to my home for anything other than sex would undoubtedly give her the wrong message. I don’t ever want someone to imagine that I might be her next meal ticket.’

Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘I hate to point out the obvious, Sebastiano, but you’ve basically offered to be mine.’

‘Ah, but not for life, bella mia.’

It was both a statement and a warning. A warning she’d do well to heed. She was merely a guest in this extraordinarily opulent land, not a resident. And that was a role she definitely knew how to play because no one had ever wanted her around for long.

Usually she would throw out a deflecting line about now to lighten the atmosphere, but she couldn’t muster one up right now, because she knew this strong, capable man was hurting and all she wanted to do was ease his pain. ‘I know what it’s like to lose a parent, Sebastiano,’ she said softly. ‘I know how it hurts. How it makes you feel lost. Scared.’

Sebastiano poured himself another drink and settled back against the cabinet, watching the play of tender emotions cross Poppy’s beautiful, unguarded face, pity being the prime emotion, and the last one he wanted to see.

He wasn’t sure if she was aware of it but her tongue kept darting out to moisten her lips as if she was preparing for his kiss; his muscles automatically drew tight at the thought.

The best thing she could do for the both of them was to take herself off to bed and he knew exactly how to send her there. ‘But do you know what it’s like to cause their deaths?’ he rasped, the words burning like vinegar in his throat.

Her stunned eyes met his and there was a touch of sadness in their depths. ‘Sometimes I did wonder if my mother chose drugs over me because I wasn’t nice enough,’ she admitted softly. ‘But, no, I don’t in the way I suspect you’re talking about. What happened?’

Unprepared for her to take his disclosure with such equanimity, Sebastiano answered before he thought better of it. ‘I was a selfish little bastard who wanted to spend time with his new girlfriend rather than go on a holiday with my family, that’s what happened.’ He let out a harsh laugh. ‘What I didn’t realise at the time was that my new friends were more interested in my money and social connections, and when we were caught buying drugs my parents had to drive to Rome to collect me. They were upset, disappointed, but I was too self-righteous and embarrassed to apologise. Some time after that my father lost control of the car on the icy roads.’ He swallowed heavily at the memory. ‘I walked away unscathed. They didn’t walk away at all.’

The blood pounded in his head and he hadn’t realised she had moved so close to him until her scent drifted towards him. ‘But you didn’t walk away unscathed,’ she murmured. ‘You carry the pain here.’ She laid her palm against his chest, directly over his heart. ‘Don’t you?’

Sebastiano swore softly, his emotions boiling over inside him. The deep core of ice he’d encased himself in for so long preventing him from whispering that she was right. He did carry the pain of that day in his heart and he never let himself forget what a little bastardo he had been.

He stepped back from her and came up against the drinks cabinet. ‘I don’t want your pity, Poppy.’

She stepped closer. So close he could see that betraying pulse beating like a trapped bird inside her throat. ‘I wasn’t offering it.’

His gaze lingered on her lips before rising to hers again, and her breath gave that betraying little hitch that told him she was as aroused as he was right now.

Dio, how was that possible when he had just been talking about his parents.

His muscles drew tight with the need to touch her. His mind and body were at war about the right thing to do, and the searing-hot, blistering need to make her his.

His?

He shook his head to clear it. ‘You should go to bed,’ he advised silkily. The sooner she was there, the safer she would be from the darkness that wanted to engulf him.

Her nostrils flared as if she had just scented danger. But still she didn’t move. ‘I will if you stop drinking.’

If he stopped drinking he’d do more than wonder if she was wearing the thong he had bought to match the gown.

Turning his back to her, he poured another finger of Scotch and then swung back to lean against the cabinet, raising his glass in a self-mocking toast. Before it touched his lips, she reached out and took hold of it, staying it in mid-air.

Adrenalin fuelled by sexual arousal turned his voice rough. ‘You need to go to bed, Poppy.’