The Commanding Italian's Challenge

‘Why me?’ She blurted words she’d had no intention of uttering.

He lounged back against the cushions, eyes bur

ning with that fierce, dangerous light as he gave a low, self-mocking laugh. ‘You think I haven’t asked myself that same question? There are easier conquests out there than you, bellissimo arcobaleno.’

‘Then—’

Swiftly, he lunged for her, every trace of humour gone as he threaded his fingers into her hair. ‘No, tesoro. My patience is exhausted. I won’t be indulging you with a lesson in chemistry. Your eyes haven’t stopped devouring me since you stepped aboard this boat. You want this, so I can only conclude that you wish me to beg. Is that it? You want me on my knees, pleading for the chance to make you my first?’ he growled.

Then he stiffened.

Faye gasped as his final words dripped into her hazy brain. Before she could question him he slanted his mouth across hers in a blinding, possessive kiss, devoured her lips as if he wanted to make her forget what he’d just said.

But despite the glorious sensation of experiencing his kiss she felt his confession throb between them, lending a sharper bliss that came from wondering if this was new to him too. No, he was far too adept at kissing. Far too adept at everything.

Just when she feared every cell in her body would fling itself into the cauldron of mounting desire, Maceo eased away. They both struggled for air as he plastered his forehead against hers, his breathing rough and choppy.

‘Santo cielo, that wasn’t how I intended to announce that. Hell, I didn’t plan on divulging it at all,’ he half snarled.

But he had. And with each passing second the shockwaves intensified.

‘How...?’ she asked in quiet awe, selfishly seizing another minute to put off confronting her turbulent emotions.

‘I discovered very early that my status in life attracted a certain breed of parasites disguised as friends. I was jaded by the time I hit the ripe age of fifteen. Toss in Pietro’s unsavoury exploits and their effect on my family and—’

‘You didn’t want even of a hint of his character associated with you?’

One corner of his mouth twisted. ‘I was no saint, cara. I might not have performed the ultimate act, but I indulged enough.’

Jealousy spiked her insides. ‘Then the accident happened?’

He nodded grimly. ‘I was eighteen when it occurred. I didn’t emerge from my coma for a year. Through it all Carlotta stayed by my bedside, fighting pressure from doctors and her own brothers to pull the plug. And that was before eighteen months of rehabilitation.’

Fresh sympathy poured through her, and against her better judgement she cupped his jaw. ‘Oh, Maceo...’

He kissed her palm. ‘Rewarding her with my loyalty and fidelity felt like a small price to pay.’

Honourable words, but she sensed there was more. He was holding something back.

‘But it wasn’t small. It was a huge sacrifice. Perhaps too big in some respects, even in the name of protecting Carlotta and your family’s legacy?’

He tensed again and rose, striding stiffly away from her. ‘What do you want me to say? That I didn’t feel I had the right to live a happy and comfortable life when my actions had driven my parents and my godfather to their deaths?’

She gasped. ‘No! Why would you believe that?’

‘Because it’s the truth! I was quarrelling with my father, yet again, when he lost control of the car. My words had driven my mother to tears and caused my father to lose concentration. He drove the car off a cliff, resulting in horrific carnage that, by some cosmic twist, I somehow survived. So tell me, Faye, should I have risen from my hospital bed and immediately sought oblivion in a woman’s arms?’

His voice was a tableau of raw pain and self-loathing. She jumped up, every cell in her body yearning to reach for him. ‘Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you can never forgive yourself—’

‘I don’t deserve forgiveness! I deserve nothing but the misery I have brought upon myself.’

She froze. ‘Then why...? I’m the reason you’re breaking your vow?’ she breathed in shock.

He appeared thunderstruck. Then he drove his fingers through his hair, throwing it into sexy disarray. He paced away from her, shoulders heaving as he inhaled, then he charged back, spearing her a narrow-eyed look.

‘We’ve digressed. Yet again.’ His tone suggested he was at the end of his rope.

Faye knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. ‘I want you, Maceo. But I can’t have you. And you can’t have me.’