Olivia Gates - One Night In…

A sound ripped from his throat and he spun in her arms. His eyes were like twin black diamonds, still angry, possessive—real.

‘No—w-wait, I need to say this—’ she shivered out when she saw what was coming. ‘I knew that I had no right to fall in love with you after the way I had hit on you without giving a thought to the trouble I was going to cause! Then w-we thought we had made a baby so I used it as an excuse to stay and—’

‘We used it.’

‘But it just wasn’t fair of me to load you down with my foolish feelings when—No!’ she protested. ‘I’ve not—’

Finished …

What a waste of breath, Rachel thought as she fell into the kind of kiss that made words redundant.

By the time he lifted his head again, streaks of desire were burning into his cheekbones. ‘Any reason why we cannot continue this … discussion in bed?’ he said huskily.

What discussion? Rachel thought dryly as she wound her arms around his neck. ‘You want to … talk?’ she asked innocently.

His mouth twitched. ‘No.’

‘You perhaps want to say something about the way you unleashed your charms on another woman tonight?’

He tensed. ‘You want me to apologise—’

‘I want you to pay,’ Rachel told him. ‘At least you were saved from watching me act like that with Alonso.’

‘But I did see.’ He grimaced. ‘I watched the handsome bastard leap out of his car and take you in his arms. I watched him kiss you as if he had every right to do it, and I saw the adoring expression on your face as you looked up at him!’

‘It wasn’t adoring, it was shock!’ Rachel protested.

‘You let him kiss you.’

‘Italians are always kissing each other.’ She dismissed that accusation.

‘You let him drive you away in his flashy red car.’

‘It was either that or get caught in the street by a snooping reporter.’ Then she frowned. ‘Where were you when this was happening?’

His sigh was rueful. ‘Making a fool of myself over lunch with five important business associates, by just getting up and walking away,’ he confessed. ‘Then I got the call from Francesca and my day just continued downhill from there.’ He ran his fingers through her hair, his eyes hooded. ‘When you walked out of the restaurant I thought you were going to go to him.’

Rachel stared at him in blank disbelief. ‘Since when have you been so short on ego to think such a thing?’

‘Since I met you,’ he said. ‘You have a unique way of eating away at my ego.’

‘That’s such a lie,’ she denounced. ‘You’ve done nothing but bully me and want sex from me since we met!’

‘You hit on me, but not because you wanted me. And you taunted me with other lovers.’ He shrugged.

‘I’ve had one lover before you,’ she reminded him. ‘My one lined up against your many who have trailed themselves past me seems a pretty pathetic comparison to me.’

He touched his tongue to the corner of her sulky mouth. ‘I love you,’ he murmured. ‘Can we forget the others?’

Rachel sighed out a groan because he was right and harking on about old lovers had nothing to do with what they had here. ‘Just take me to bed and love me, Raffaelle,’ she begged.

He did not need asking twice. Their clothes fell away like rags for jumble. He pulled her against him, lips almost bruising in their intensity, his hands sliding possessively along her slender curves until he found the indentation of her waist, where he gripped and lifted her off the ground.

For a few clamouring seconds when her legs wrapped round him she thought he was going to do it standing right there with no preliminaries. Their mouths were straining and he was on fire, pumped up and ready for her. And she was pretty well much the same.

Then he turned and toppled them on to the duvet. What followed was the kind of fierce, fevered loving that staked absolute possession and claim. He gave her all of him and she took it greedily and gave back the same.

Afterwards they lay spread across the mattress, Rachel nothing more than a slender, soft, boneless creature lying beneath him, still lost in a wonderful, sensual world.

‘In all my life,’ Rafaelle murmured as he gently kissed her back down to earth again, ‘I have never known the power of what you can do to me.’

So, gravely serious, opening her eyes, Rachel smiled at him. ‘Hit on, trapped, taken over,’ she said approvingly.

His eyes began to glint. ‘Now you are asking for trouble,’ he warned and climbed over her to land lightly on his feet by the bed.

‘I didn’t mean it—!’ she cried out, sitting up jerkily.

He’d moved to the dressing table; now he was back by the bed. Stretching out beside her, he took hold of her left hand.

‘Oh, I forgot,’ she said, staring as the fake ring was removed from her finger.

The real one glittered and flashed as he slid it on to her finger. They lay there beside each other while he held up her hand. ‘Hit on, trapped and marked as mine for ever,’ he said turning her own words back on her with some very satisfied-sounding additions.

Then the fake ring spun in the air as he tossed it carelessly away.

‘Did I tell you I love you?’ Rachel said softly.

He rose above her, eyes dark and slumberous in his golden face. ‘Tell me again,’ he commanded.

‘Love you,’ she obliged and sealed it this time with a warm clinging kiss.

‘And you will be my wife?’

Warm, dark, golden, gorgeous—she placed a finger on the thoroughly kissed fullness of his lower lip, loving the very possessive sound of my wife.

‘Tomorrow.’ She nodded gravely.

‘Even though you get Daniella as a stepsister-in-law?’

‘You get worse from me,’ Rachel said. ‘You get a fully paid-up member of the paparazzi as your brother-in-law.’

‘Stung again—’ he sighed ‘—you are going to have to work very hard to make it worth my while.’

The kiss she laid on his mouth worked very hard to make it worth his while.

‘By the way,’ she murmured a long time later, flickering innocent blue eyes up to look at him, ‘you forgot to use any protection …’

KATE HEWITTdiscovered her first Mills & Boon ®romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen, and she’s continued to read them ever since.

She wrote her first story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence long—fortunately, they’ve become a bit more detailed as she’s grown older.

She has written plays, short stories, and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling, and learning to knit.

After marrying the man of her dreams—her older brother’s childhood friend—she lived in England for six years and now resides in Connecticut with her husband, her three young children, and the possibility of one day getting a dog.

Kate loves to hear from readers—you can contact her through her website, www.kate-hewitt.com.

To Cliff,

For believing in me and showing

it in so many ways.

—K

‘I WISH that was on the menu.’

Alessandro di Agnio’s lips thinned in distaste at his companion’s expression. He leaned back in his chair, his cool gaze flicking over the waitress chatting in Italian at the nearby table. Her hand rested on her hip, and he could hear the warm gurgle of her laughter from where he sat. There was, he noticed, a tomato sauce stain on her blouse. Her hair was falling from its pins, and she ran a careless hand through it.