‘Three years you owe me,’ he grated as his mouth moved down her throat, then her shoulder.
‘No.’ Kelly shuddered as his hand slipped inside the bodice of her dress to cup her breast, and at his touch desire swept through her, leaping from nerve-end to nerve-end with a speed that shocked her as it seduced her. The scent of him filled her nostrils, and the taste of him—ah! The familiar taste of him as once more his mouth covered hers was like a drug to her sensually deprived body.
She knew she should stop him, but at that moment his fingers rolled across her rigid nipples and she was swamped in a wave of heat. Instead her arms slipped around his neck. He lowered her to the floor, his lips against her throat, her shoulder, his long body stretched out half over her, his knee between her thighs.
Gianfranco stared down at her; her dress was around her waist, and a scrap of white lace was the only barrier to the heated centre of her. He slipped the dress down her arms and bent his head, his mouth suckling on a rigid nipple.
Kelly shut her eyes, a low moan of dismay and desire equally mixed escaping her. She felt his hand slide up her thigh, his long fingers slip beneath the lace barrier and wrench it from her body. His hand curved around the blonde curls at the apex of her thighs, his long fingers intimately exploring the velvet flesh. She was hot and damp and she shook with a need, a want so agonisingly painful that she cried out his name. And from that
moment on she was lost in her own fevered response to the awesome passion he evoked in her body, which had been celibate for far too long.
Rearing up, Gianfranco touched the tip of his tongue to the tip of each breast as he deftly unfastened his trousers. Then he slid his hands under her and lifted her up to accept the fierce thrust of his manhood, burying himself deep in the hot, tight heart of her femininity.
There was nothing tender or gentle about their coupling. More a wild white-water ride, two bodies grinding, drowning in a savage, primitive hunger, hand and mouth, tooth and nail, they caressed and clung until Kelly’s body convulsed first, in an agony of exquisite pleasure, and Gianfranco followed, his great body shaking with the force of his release. For a long moment he lay with his face buried in the soft curve of her throat and shoulder, then with a violent curse in Italian he rolled off her.
Kelly understood the curse he had uttered, and heard the slight sound of his clothes being readjusted, the zing of a zip. She shivered. Not with cold but with shame.
Leaping to his feet, Gianfranco ran a hand through his rumpled hair. Damn it, that was not supposed to have happened. He stared down at her, his black eyes raking over her flushed face and the abandoned position of her slender body, and he grimaced. But she was so hot and willing she couldn’t help herself. Once she had been all his. Dio, how many more men had tasted her sweetness? he wondered grimly.
Kelly saw her briefs lying on the floor and silently groaned, shame keeping her from looking at Gianfranco.
‘You could earn a fortune as a porn star. Straighten yourself up, for God’s sake,’ Gianfranco said bluntly, his voice as hard and cold as ice.
Ashen-faced, Kelly pulled up the bodice of her dress, pulled down the skirt, picked up the torn briefs and, ignoring him, walked into the kitchen and shoved them in the bin.
Zombie-like, she crossed to the bench, filled the kettle at the tap, and switched it on. She took a cup from the shelf and spooned instant coffee into the cup. With her hands propped on the bench and her head bent she waited for the kettle to boil. And all the while her mind was screaming. What have I done? She couldn’t believe she had surrendered to Gianfranco so quickly, so uninhibitedly. Three years, she silently groaned, and as far as her traitorous body was concerned it could have been yesterday. Nothing had changed.
Yes, yes, it had, Kelly amended and, straightening up, she lifted the kettle and poured the water into the cup. She had changed…she was a much stronger woman; bringing a child up on her own had taught her a lot. She lifted the cup of black coffee to her lips with a slightly trembling hand, and after the first mouthful she felt marginally better. At least she had wiped the taste of Gianfranco from her mouth. If only she could wipe him from her life so easily, she thought bitterly.
‘Good idea. Make one for me,’ Gianfranco commanded.
Kelly spun around at the sound of his voice, about to tell him to make it himself, but caution stopped her. She had a much bigger argument to win than who should make the coffee. He was sitting on one of the three seats at the small breakfast table, his dark head turned towards her, his hooded gaze completely unreadable.
She cleared her suddenly dry throat. ‘Black with one sugar, is it?’
Gianfranco raised an eyebrow. ‘You remembered.’
‘Some things are hard to forget,’ she muttered, turning back to the bench and taking another cup from the shelf. And she wasn’t talking about the coffee. One look at him looking so cool and composed, while she was still reeling from the shock of having just made love—No, not love, sex—annoyed her immensely.
‘Yes, it is gratifying to know I can still make you burn, and cry out my name,’ he emphasised in his deep, husky drawl. ‘It makes the future so much easier; a celibate marriage never appealed to me.’
Kelly realised in stricken apprehension that Gianfranco had read her mind. She could not speak; her tongue was glued to the dry roof of her mouth as she fought to remain calm. She poured water into the cup with her heart hammering in her chest. No way was she resuming married life with Gianfranco, as his words implied.
‘From what I have seen, Annalou seems to be a happy, well-balanced little girl.’
Kelly inwardly sighed with relief at the change of subject, but her relief was short-lived. She turned to look at him, and the gleam of mocking triumph in his black eyes sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Yes, she is,’ Kelly said curtly, and moved to place the cup of coffee on the table in front of him. ‘And she is very happy here. She has lots of friends.’ If she could convince him to give her a divorce, Kelly thought, nervously chewing her lip, she wouldn’t mind his having some custody rights.
‘This place looks like a holiday home. I understand you now own it.’ He lifted the cup to his mouth and swallowed the hot coffee, then he added smoothly, ‘I suppose Annalou can still spend the odd holiday here and keep in touch with her friends.’
‘Odd holiday!’ Kelly exclaimed. ‘We live here.’
‘Not any more—we are leaving for Italy in the morning.’
It was no more than she had expected from the moment she had set eyes on him on the beach, but it was still a terrible shock. Kelly staggered back to lean against the kitchen bench, not trusting her legs to support her. ‘No, Annalou and I are staying here.’ She had to stay in control, be convincing, but she was trembling inside. ‘But I am prepared to be reasonable. You and I can get a quickie divorce, and we can share custody. You can visit whenever you like.’
‘Have you finished?’ he demanded with eyes as cold as the Arctic wastes, and for a moment her mind went blank. ‘Good. Because I am taking my daughter back to Italy. Any visiting to be done will be at my discretion.’
‘You can’t do that. I won’t let you.’ Kelly burst into speech, trying to sound firm, but nothing could disguise the slight tremor in her voice. The full enormity of what he had said hit her like a punch to the stomach. She felt sick with fear, and she knew she was fighting for her daughter’s well-being, never mind her own. ‘There is no way I will allow Annalou anywhere near Olivia without me.’