‘Sam.’
Rafaele’s voice was thick and Sam’s heart palpitated. Reluctantly she looked at him and a pulse throbbed between her legs. She clamped her thighs together desperately.
He reached over and took her hand and Sam almost cried out at the sensation. She tried to pull back but he wouldn’t release her.
‘I want you.’
His face was in shadow but she could sense his desperation. It was little comfort. Inevitability rose up inside her. She could resist anything but this declaration. This promise that soon, if she allowed it, he would ease this ache that was inside her, tearing her apart. It transcended even what had just happened.
Helplessly, in a whisper of supplication that she hated, Sam just replied, ‘Yes...’
* * *
Yes.
Rafaele felt primal satisfaction rush through him, hardening his body. He wanted to devour Sam, consume her, brand her. He wanted her for ever.
No!
Rafaele rejected that rogue assertion, which had slid into his mind before he’d even acknowledged it.
He couldn’t let her hand go, though, even when she turned her head away to look out of the window. The rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath the dress made him curl his other hand to a fist, just to stop himself reaching out to cup their heavy weight.
Sam was clearly aware of the same ramifications as he, of being seen together and how that might be construed. But the thought of her rejecting that suddenly made him want to claim her. In any way that he could. Publicly and in private.
But right now he couldn’t really focus on what that meant. Right now he wanted the physical.
As the car swept gracefully through the palazzo gates anticipation spiked like a fever in his blood. When the car came to a halt he got out and strode around to Sam’s door, helping her out himself. She looked up at him with those huge expressive eyes and desire was hot and urgent inside him—part of the tangled mess of emotions this woman inspired in him on a regular basis.
With one smooth move he picked her up into his arms. Her mouth was tight with a need that resonated within him. He felt like a beast. He couldn’t speak. What he needed right now was not something he could even articulate. It was visceral, physical. Urgent.
* * *
Sam was in Rafaele’s arms and he was striding through the front door of the palazzo. All she could feel was her breasts crushed to the solid wall of his chest and the pulse of awareness between them, like a tangible forcefield of energy.
The house was quiet. He was striding up the stairs now and Sam bit her lip. Rafaele carried her straight into his bedroom. She tensed against the leap of her blood at the promise of satisfaction. A moment of sanity intruded, reminding her of the certain self-recrimination she would face in the aftermath and all the uncertainty about how he felt about her.
Weakly she seized on the first thing she thought of. ‘Wait... Milo...’
Rafaele was putting her down, sliding her along the length of his hard body, one part of which in particular was very hard. He was already pulling down the strap of her dress and her skin tingled.
His voice was rough. ‘Milo is with Bridie, as you well know.’
That sliver of sanity compelled her to try again, even though every part of her protested. ‘Rafaele...’
‘Stop talking, Sam. I want you. You want me. It’s very simple.’
It wasn’t that simple, though, and Sam opened her mouth to protest again. But then Rafaele was kissing her, and pulling the strap of her dress down further, and she felt the rising lust suck her under and weakly...she gave in. She wanted to forget sanity and take this.
Between her legs she was slick and throbbing. She didn’t have a hope of resisting when Rafaele bared one breast and cupped it in his hand, squeezing the plump flesh, his thumb grazing her nipple.
Letting out a soft moan halfway between frustration at her own weakness and excitement at her building desire, Sam wound her arms around Rafaele’s neck and pressed herself against him, trapping his hand on her breast.
Rafaele’s other hand came down and cupped her buttocks, kneading the flesh, making Sam’s hips roll against him impatiently. She could feel the thick length of his erection between them and fresh heat pulsed to her core.
Rafaele pulled back for a moment, breathing harshly, his eyes glittering fiercely. It was hard for Sam to open her eyes. She felt dazed. He’d always had this effect on her—one touch and she felt drugged.
He was dragging off his jacket, tie and shirt, dropping them to the ground, unbuckling his belt, undoing his trousers.