Sandra Marton - The Sicilian Marriage

He stroked her, then slid a finger inside the damp fabric that kept him from her, and she cried out, dug her fingers into his hair, kissed him with the same urgency he felt, the same blind need.

And the car rocked to a stop.

The doors opened. They must have, because the next thing he knew, he heard a startled gasp, a laugh, saw Briana’s eyes open, heard her horrified cry.

Gianni didn’t turn around. He reached out blindly to the control panel and hit a button. The doors shut. The elevator began to descend again.

“Briana,” he said, “Bree…”

She twisted against him with the desperation of a wild creature caught in a trap and struck out with her fist. He grunted when one blow connected with his jaw.

“Damn it,” he said, grabbing her hands as she slid down his body, “will you listen to me?”

The elevator reached the lobby. She shot from the car as if the demons of hell were at her heels. The surprised doorman yanked the front door wide with only seconds to spare, then stared at Gianni.

“Sir? Is everything all right?”

Gianni drew a ragged breath as he stepped from the car.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, and knew it was the biggest lie he’d ever told in his life.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.