He turned her again. And again. They moved into a tiny area that, for the moment, was all their own.
“It is unreasonable to expect strangers to know when you’re being real and when you’re not.”
“It doesn’t matter what strangers think.”
“An interesting philosophy.”
Maybe the tone of his voice suggested something. She pulled back, but only as far as his encircling arms would permit.
“Thank you for getting me away from the table,” she said, “but I’m fine now. I’d like to go back and get my purse and—”
“And run.”
“I’m not running, Mr. Bellini. I’m simply going home.”
“Mr. Bellini. Such formality from a woman who shared my bed this morning.”
Color swept into her face.
“I knew it wouldn’t last,” she said.
“Oh, it lasted,” Luca said, deliberately misunderstanding her. “It would have lasted even longer if you hadn’t run.”
“I was referring to your pathetic show of courtesy,” she hissed. “I should have known it was meaningless.”
“What about your pathetic tendency to run? Is that what you always do when the stakes get too high?”
She stopped moving.
“I’m going back to the table.”
“Is that the reason you sneaked out of my bed? Because the stakes got too high?”
“It was a motel room bed, and I am done with this!”
Oh, she was full of fury! Eyes flashing. Mouth trembling. Pulse beating in her slender throat like the heart of a trapped songbird.
She was exquisite and—and, Cristo, he wanted her. Here. Right now. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life.
“Were you afraid of showing honest emotion, of giving up that act, that need to take control, to take charge, to run the show?”
She lifted her hands, formed them into fists and punched them against his shoulders.
“Let go of me!”
Luca grabbed her fists.
“Or were you afraid I was going to ask you a personal question? Something like, what’s your phone number? Where do you live? Or, even worse, may I see you again?”
The music changed. Now, it was something fast and hot. Couples were moving around them, dancing, laughing, and she was struggling against him. Maybe people thought they were dancing. Maybe not. He didn’t give a crap.
“You insulted me,” he said in a low voice. Until that instant, he hadn’t realized that that was the heart of the problem. Now, he did.
“I insulted you?” She laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “What’s your problem, Bellini? Do the women you screw usually stay around, applaud and write reviews?”
Why did her use of that word, screw, make him angry? Never mind the reason. It did. Everything about her made him angry, and he’d be damned if he’d let her avoid this confrontation.
“The women I screw, as you so delicately put it, don’t creep off as if they’re leaving the scene of a crime.”
“LET GO!”
He tugged her to him. It was easy. He outweighed her, outmuscled her. She fell against him, breasts, hips, thighs.
“Actually,” he said in a low, harsh voice, “you overestimated yourself, bellissima. We had a good time. It was over. It was a relief to find you gone. I’m not much for saccharine goodbyes and—Merda!”
Her stiletto heel was like the strike of a knife against his foot.
She looked up into his eyes and batted her lashes.
“Oh,” she said sweetly, “did I step on you? I’m so sorry—What are you doing? Bellini! Bellini! Damn you, let go!”
He’d have sooner have let go of an asp poised to strike.
Hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, fingers digging into her flesh, Luca all but dragged her through the crowded dance floor, out the door and into the empty hall, though he wouldn’t have given a damn if it had been packed with partygoers. He pushed her back against a velvet-flocked wall.
He was angry. Angry? He was furious and he had been ever since the morning.
This time, he wasn’t going to let her get away.
She owed him.
For insulting him. For angering him.
For denying him what he’d needed in that motel room.
He could see the wildness in her eyes, the passion, and even as the civilized part of him asked him what in hell he thought he was doing, the savage part of him knew.
He wanted her.
Not because she was fighting him although yes, all that fire was part of it.
He wanted her because he had not had enough time, enough of her… And because he wanted her on his terms.
Submissive.
No. Not submissive.
Responsive.
He wanted her responsive. To him. Only to him. He wanted her to beg for release. To do whatever he asked of her.
He wanted to take her to bed and dominate her.
He wanted things he had never before wanted from a woman, and even as he tried to understand what was happening to him, he saw the change in her as she struggled against him, as her body brushed his.
He saw the fire turning to a flame that would consume them both.
He said something in a low, rough voice, clasped both her wrists in one hand and pinned them against the wall, high over her head.
“No,” she panted.
Too late.
His mouth came down hard on hers. His tongue sought entry and when she wouldn’t provide it, he sank his teeth into her bottom lip, hard enough to draw a moan of passion or pain from her throat.
Which was it? He didn’t know and it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that she bit him back—and then she groaned and opened to him and her taste was hot and sweet, and now there was no doubt that she wanted what he wanted.
This.
This kiss. This explosion of heat. This rush of blood as they moved against each other.
Yes, he thought, yes, Cristo, yes.
He ran his free hand down the length of her, from her throat to her breasts to her belly.
“Luca,” she sobbed, “Luca…”
Her gown was slit to the thigh. He slipped his hand under it, and felt only skin.
She was naked.
No panties. No thong. Nothing between his hand and the elegant curve of her hip, the delicacy of her belly, the silken softness of her dark curls.
Another minute, he was going to explode.
“Open for me,” he whispered.
She gave a little sob.
Parted her legs.
He put his hand between her thighs.
She said his name and he kissed her, deep and hard.
And cupped her. Stroked her.
She screamed into his mouth and came against his palm. Hot. Wet. All for him. Only for him.
His vision blurred.
He reached between them for the zi
pper of his fly. All he had to do was free himself, push her gown up, thrust into her. Make her come and come and come.
Sanity, a cold kind of sanity with a cruel edge, stopped him.
He let go of her wrists. Took his hand from the hot dampness between her thighs. And stepped back.
“No,” she whispered. She was trembling. “Luca…”
He was trembling too, but that didn’t matter.
He dug into his pocket, took out his iPhone, hit a button, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Aldo,” he said. “A woman will be coming down to the lobby in a couple of minutes. She is dark haired. Tall. Very beautiful. Flag a taxi for her. No, I won’t be with her. Thank you, Aldo.” He put the phone away. Took out his wallet. Pulled out two hundred dollar bills and held them out. “That should cover cab fare.”
Cheyenne looked from his face to his hand. She snatched the bills from him, tore them in half and let them tumble to the floor.
“You’re being foolish,” he said calmly. “As you pointed out, your purse is back in the ballroom.”
“You are,” she said, her voice shaking, “you are despicable!”
“I’d have left you instructions on how to find a taxi,” he said, “but this seems more efficient.”
The blow, when it came, was hardly surprising. He’d been half-expecting it and he’d braced himself for it; still, the force of it made his head snap back.
“Good night, Ms. McKenna,” he said. “And thank you for an interesting interlude in an otherwise dull evening.”
Later, thinking back, he was sure she’d have hit him again, but just then the doors to one of the elevators slid open. A man and a woman stepped from the car, he in a tux, she in a glittering gown, her arm looped through his. They were laughing, but their laughter stopped as soon as they saw the scene before them.
“Oh,” the woman said.
It was, Luca thought, the only intelligent comment possible.
He knew what they saw.
Him, his color high, his breathing rapid, his clothes disheveled.
Cheyenne, her hair wild around her face, her eyes like black pools, her mouth pink and swollen from his kisses. He saw the stricken expression on her face and his gut twisted.
The right thing to do was step in front of her. Shield her from the strangers’ curious glances. After all, they’d just been making love…
His heart hardened.
They hadn’t been making love. They’d been doing exactly what they’d done this morning