Cathy Williams - Summer Loving

Inside the lift, he caught her to him but didn’t kiss her. If he started he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Once they were inside the apartment, he kicked the door shut with his foot and reached for her. What he grabbed instead was his jacket, held out by Ava with a determined look on her face.

‘Come here,’ he commanded, every muscle tight with need.

She raised her chin, exposing the satin neck that sent his pulse sky-high. ‘No.’

Shock froze him in place. ‘Che?’

She remained defiant and out of reach. ‘I won’t sleep with you just because you’ve decided that you want me again.’

He prowled towards her. She backed away, making him want to pounce on her. He cautioned himself not to. ‘Again? Hell, haven’t we proved conclusively that I’ve never stopped wanting you? Dio, you only have to walk into a room to make me rock-hard for you.’

Heat bloomed in her cheeks, appeasing him somewhat. As did her soft lips parting on a breath. The fierce shake of her head, however, plunged him back towards supreme frustration. Again he tried to reach for her. Again she danced out of his reach. Irritation sizzled through him.

‘As hot as that was intended to make me—’

‘Did I succeed?’

The rapid rise and fall of her breasts gave him his answer. ‘I’m not going to fall into bed with you, Cesare.’

She shook out his jacket like a matador trying to distract a raging bull. He ignored it and focused on his prize. Another step brought him closer to her. He breathed in her scent and acknowledged that his need for her was beyond his own understanding.

And he was infinitely weary of twisting himself into knots about it.

‘Tell me you don’t want me, mia sposa.’

‘You know I do, but I won’t let you toy with me. What happened to—this is as far as you’re ever going to get?’

Unwelcome heat crawled up his neck. For a man who had a superb command of words, he couldn’t compose a suitable answer aside from the pure, unadulterated truth. ‘We both know that bikini should’ve come with a skull and crossbones warning. I was angry with you for killing me with temptation and wasn’t quite myself when I uttered those words.’ Having Ava taunt him with her body when he’d been fighting his desire had been the last straw. He hadn’t liked being held on the knife-edge of control, as he’d been right from the beginning with her.

‘And now you’ve just decided to hell with it?’

Stalking away from her, he tore off his constricting tie and tossed it away. ‘I haven’t decided anything! What I do know is that you’re driving me crazy and...’ His fist clenched. ‘Dammit, Ava, you flaunted yourself so blatantly.’

‘Well, you’re in luck. I’m not flaunting anything any more. Goodnight, Cesare.’

At first he couldn’t comprehend what was happening. By the time the shock wore off, Ava’s deliciously tempting back had disappeared down the hall and into the guest bedroom.

Unclenching his fist, he raked his decidedly unsteady fingers through his hair. Bravo, Cesare. He’d finally succeeded at what he’d been trying to do since Ava returned—he’d pushed her away.

Except satisfaction tasted like ashes and thwarted lust sucked. He swore and paced the room. It was no use asking himself what he’d been thinking.

When it came to Ava, she only had to touch him and he lost his mind. She only had to look at him with those smoky emerald eyes and his senses flamed with the promise of pleasure.

He spotted his briefcase and his jaw tightened. He strode to it and pulled out the papers. The cold, stark words taunted him. With a simple stroke of his name along the dotted line, he could be free of this madness.

But was that his only option?

Ava’s words in the car struck him. From the beginning, he’d known she had a strained relationship with her own family. To all intents and purposes, he and Annabelle were the only family she had. He’d married her, only to leave her to her own devices because he’d been too caught up in his own angst to see clearly.

Was he man enough to start now?

His fist tightened around the papers. On a decisive thought, he ripped them in two. He’d been too long locked in his own pain for his part in Roberto’s seclusion, he hadn’t stopped to think about Ava’s needs when she married him.

A grim smile crossed his mouth. Had Ava asked for a divorce two months ago, hell, even the day before the earthquake, he probably would have granted it. But not now. He ripped the papers until they were indecipherable pieces.

He still didn’t have it in him to offer her what she wanted, but he, if nothing else, was a damned good negotiator. There would be no divorce.

So what now?

Hell if he knew. He would just have to work it out later.

CHAPTER NINE

AVA PACED THE length of the guest room, unable to calm her frenzied pulse or her mind’s racing.

First Cesare pushed her away, then he wanted her to fall into his arms. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to quell her body’s clamouring for what she’d stubbornly denied it. But her pulse wouldn’t quieten. The thought that she’d come within a hair’s breadth of making love to Cesare again after so long sent her pacing faster. She should be thankful she’d resisted him.

Yeah, right.

Truth was, she wanted to jump her husband so badly, she could barely think straight. The heat of his body, the intoxicating scent of his hard-packed muscles rose in her mind like the promise of a delectable feast after an endless famine.

Would that be so wrong?

She felt herself sway towards the door and dug her toes hard into the luxurious carpet. What was she thinking? Sure, he’d been shocked when she walked away from him. But he hadn’t followed. And he’s not exactly breaking down your door, is he?

While she was in here torturing herself, he was probably enjoying the view, nightcap in hand, or halfway to securing another multi-million euro deal.

Whirling, she stalked to the window.

The stunning vista of night time Rome lay before her. Cesare’s penthouse apartment sat atop a converted luxury villa off Campo de Fiori and commanded views as far as the Vatican and St Peter’s Dome.

Was he staring at the same view? Raising a hand to the window, she watched her skin heat the cool glass. The view outside faded when she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection.

Wild, fiery hair, tangled into shameless disarray by Cesare’s seeking hands. Her eyes were wide pools of confusion and hurt she wanted to hide away from and her lips were swollen and bruised with Cesare’s kisses. She wasn’t surprised to see her chest rise and fall as if she’d run a marathon.

And all because of the man whose presence impacted her life and emotions as effortlessly as if she were a puppet on his string.

Her breath rushed out, frosted the glass, distorting her view as she remembered... In the fevered chaos of the kiss and the argument that had followed, they’d never got round to talking about the solution to their problems.

She eyed the door, then almost in a trance, her hand went to the button securing her dress at her nape. With one short fumble, it pooled at her feet. She contemplated taking a shower, but feared her resolve would desert her if she delayed for too long.

Padding to the dresser, she picked up her hairbrush. The rhythmic strokes reinforced her strength, which in turn abated the haunted look in her eyes. She hadn’t needed a bra with her dress, but she still wore her thong. The thought of going to Cesare naked heated up her blood, but she quickly abandoned the idea.

Crossing to the wardrobe, she selected a short forest-green silk night slip and matching gown of hers she’d found when she’d unpacked earlier. Shrugging them on, she tied the gown and quickly left the room before she lost her nerve.