Surrendering to the Vengeful Italian

He tugged her head back, tilted her face to his, and she knew in the span of a single panicked heartbeat she was headed for trouble. Knew the instant his mouth covered hers this kiss would not be the hard, demanding, alpha-take-charge kiss she’d expected. No. This kiss was something altogether different. Something far more calculated and disturbing. A skilled, sensual assault that sent his mouth and tongue moving in long, lazy strokes over her tightly clamped lips.

Helena’s nostrils flared, her sharp inhalation drawing in the heady spice of his cologne, and a whimper of protest caught in her throat. Or was it a moan? Either way, Leo showed no sign of relenting. His lips coaxed, his tongue teased, his teeth lightly grazed. And with every stroke, every nip and tug, her resolve to refuse him access suffered another crippling blow.

Ruthless, she thought, the floor tilting under her, the bones in her legs melting like heated wax. He was ruthless and she was drowning, oblivious to everything except the hard male body imprisoning hers and the sweet, blistering assault of his mouth.

Belatedly she registered a tugging at her waistband, a whisper of cool air on her midriff—and then the explosive charge of flesh against heated flesh. She jerked with surprise, but the hand behind her head held firm while the other rose to cup her breast. Deft fingers hooked aside cotton and lace and closed around one hard, almost painfully taut peak.

Helena arched her back and groaned. She couldn’t help it. Her body was on fire and she couldn’t douse the flames. Her lips parted, her lungs desperate for air, and she did nothing to resist when Leo’s tongue swept in and tangled with her own. He growled—with satisfaction or triumph?—and then she was lost, unable to remember why she didn’t want this. Didn’t want him. With a moan of surrender, she wound her arms around his neck. Arched into his touch. Opened herself to his kiss.

‘Ahem...’

Helena froze.

Oh, no, no, no.

That could not be the sound of a man clearing his throat inside the cabin. Heat of a different kind crawled up her neck as she realised that Leo, too, was motionless, his mouth locked on hers, one hand twined in her hair while the other cradled her breast beneath her tee.

Horrified, she wriggled to snap whatever spell held him frozen. Slowly his head lifted, his gaze blazing into hers with momentary intensity before shifting to the uniformed man standing near the entry to the cockpit. Her cheeks flamed. Why didn’t Leo release her? Remove his hand from her breast? She squirmed, mortified.

‘Five minutes to take-off, sir,’ the attendant said, his voice neutral, his face devoid of expression.

Leo nodded. ‘Grazie.’

The man retreated behind a floor-length curtain and she dragged in a breath, waited for the curtain to fall, then shoved at Leo’s chest. Her trembling arms possessed just enough strength to break his hold. Hastily she rearranged her bra and tee, conscious of her smarting cheeks. Her tingling lips.

One kiss.

And she’d lost herself completely. Been ready to give him whatever he wanted. Whatever he demanded. How could she be so weak? So pathetic?

Was this what her mother did every time she kissed and made up with her husband? Did she let herself get played? Sucked in by some practised seduction routine that made her forget all the hurt that had gone before? All the ugliness that would surely follow?

Anger flared, at herself. At him. ‘Is this part of our deal?’ She yanked the hem of her tee into her jeans. ‘That you get to maul me whenever you feel like it?’

He had the nerve to smile. A cool, sardonic smile that made her want to throw something—preferably at his head.

‘You call that being mauled?’

‘What would you call it when a man forces himself on a woman?’

His soft laugh jarred her nerves. ‘Force?’

She would have spun away if his hand hadn’t risen with startling speed to capture her jaw. Her pulse skittered.

‘Don’t fool yourself, cara.’ He dragged his thumb over her mouth, parted her lips. Ran his tongue over his own as if recalling how she tasted. ‘You enjoyed that as much as I did.’

A sharp denial danced on her tongue but she choked it back. His heated appraisal, the glitter in those dark eyes, told her he felt the pull of their physical attraction as surely and inexorably as she. Refusing to acknowledge what they both knew existed was futile. Dangerous. Instinct warned he’d take great pleasure in proving her wrong—again.

She jerked free of his grasp, moved to a window seat and strapped herself in. Outside, the ground crew completed their final safety checks and she stared out the window, feigned interest in their activity.

Leo made her feel vulnerable, exposed, and she hated it. Hated that her desire for him was so plain to see. Hated the ease with which he zeroed in on it, ruthlessly exploiting her weakness for him.

Her father did the same thing—found people’s weaknesses, their soft spots and vulnerabilities. Was that why her mother stayed? Did he wield her fears and weaknesses against her? Use them as leverage so she didn’t leave?

Helena blinked away the burn of tears. She’d never make her mother’s mistake. She’d rather die a dried-up old spinster than tolerate a man who didn’t treat her with respect.

If only Leo’s kiss hadn’t made her blood sing. Hadn’t fired every dormant cell in her body to glorious life.

With a ragged sigh, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat.