bars as a teenager and emerging a man. Imagine who he’d mixed with there. No wonder Donato had a hard, impenetrable edge.
That scar, though silvered now, scored perilously close to the corner of his eye. It was faint enough to give him a rakish hint of the buccaneer, but she’d dealt with knife wounds when she’d worked in Emergency. She knew what sliced flesh looked like.
‘Ella?’ His breath feathered her face, warm and coffee-scented. ‘You’re feeling sorry for me?’ His brows knitted as he leaned over her, astonishment clear in those brilliant eyes.
‘No, I...’
Her words dissolved as his lips brushed hers, soft and almost tentative.
That was all it took. One kiss. Not even a kiss but the merest whisper of a caress, and she ignited, falling against him as he tugged her in. He wrapped his arms around her, not hard, but to her disordered mind it seemed protectively, tenderly. That just fuelled her response, like petrol poured on open flames.
He pulled his head back to stare down at her, his gaze darkening to midnight.
‘I don’t need your pity.’ She felt the rumble of his voice through their bodies, where she pressed against him. ‘I was found guilty, remember?’
‘Who said anything about pity?’ Yet there was a knot in her throat at the idea of him as a kid, coming of age in prison because he’d tried to defend someone.
His look sharpened. ‘Women want me because I’m rich. Because I’m powerful. Or for a thrill because I’m big and bad and dangerous.’ That unblinking gaze pinioned her. ‘Never because they feel sorry for me.’
It was a warning, as clear as a flashing red light. Yet he hadn’t mentioned the most obvious reason any woman would want him. Because he was the single most fascinating, sexy, infuriatingly charismatic man on the planet.
Ella had finally found a weak spot in his aura of omniscient authority. When she had more time, when she wasn’t pressed up against him from thigh to breast, she’d think about that.
Now, though, her thoughts frayed. Logical Ella was unravelling. That new bold Ella stirred again, the woman who dared to act on impulse, regardless of consequences. She shuddered as desire rose like a blast of hot summer air.
‘Good, then you won’t expect sentiment from me.’ She rose on her toes and anchored her hands in his thick soft hair, pulling him down to her level.
She was confused by this man, alternately irritated and fascinated. But she needed him. More now than before, as if what they’d shared earlier had given her a taste of something deliciously addictive.
‘Kiss me, Donato.’ It was new Ella speaking, her voice an unfamiliar throaty purr. ‘And make it good.’
Ella had never said anything like that to a man. But the fingers threading his hair were hers, as were the breasts straining against his hard torso, and the hips circling needily as he clamped her against him. The mouth was definitely hers, fusing with his demanding lips, sighing her pleasure as he forgot about conversation and gave her what she needed.
By the time they made it to a large canopied day bed near the pool, she was in her underwear and he’d lost his shirt and shoes.
Ella lay back, enjoying the view of his bronzed torso, powerful and dusted with dark hair across the chest. Even the couple of scars, pale on his ribs, didn’t mar his perfection. Muscles bunched and twisted as he reached for a condom then shoved down his pants.
A gasp escaped and he looked up.
It would be too naïve of her to blurt out that he was the most imposing man she’d ever seen. Just the sight of him made her heart hammer.
‘You’re well prepared.’ Was that her voice, that husky drawl of invitation? ‘Do you usually carry so many condoms?’
His mouth curved in a tight smile at odds with the blaze in his eyes. ‘I was expecting you.’
He reached out, dispensing with her underwear with casual efficiency. His eyes like lasers, so hot she felt her skin shiver. Then his mouth was on her breast, his hand between her legs, and there was nothing but Donato and pleasure so intense it saturated her, from her bones to her brain and everywhere in between.
He licked her nipple and her breath caught. He sucked it inside his hot mouth and her hands on the back of his head turned to claws, dragging him closer.
His hand moved and she bucked against him. Impossibly she felt a trembling begin deep inside. A trembling that grew and spread.
‘Now! I need you now.’ Desperately she groped down between them. He was thick and solid against her palm, twitching at her touch.
Heat suffused her, intensified at the slide of his hard body against hers. The tickle of chest hair against her breasts, the haze of his breath on her neck. His fingers covered hers, guiding, till he was right where she needed him.
Their eyes locked as Donato dragged her hands above her head, holding them high against the cushions as he thrust home with one hungry glide that brought them colliding together.
Ella arched up, stunned by the sheer intimacy of him there, at the heart of her, his eyes holding hers as surely as he claimed her body. The air locked in her lungs as sensation rocked her. Not physical sensation but something she couldn’t name, a sense of rightness, of belonging.
Donato’s eyes widened. Did he feel it too?
Ella remembered how it had felt coming apart in his arms, drowning in his gaze. She felt it again, fierce pleasure and more too, the powerful connection, the sense she gave up part of her soul, not just her body. It had scared the life out of her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the crescendo of physical rapture. The climax that was upon her before she knew it, throwing her high to the stars. She bit her tongue, desperate not to cry his name as ecstasy took over, needing not to give in completely.
Donato jerked hard, spilling himself, his voice a guttural, seductive slur of Spanish, and her eyes opened of their own volition.
Instantly she was lost in indigo heat, in the heady, terrifying tumble into unfamiliar territory that wasn’t merely about eager bodies and erotic caresses. Into a place where she was no longer Ella but part of him, part of Donato, and he was part of her.
He held her gaze for what seemed minutes, their breathing ragged, chests heaving, bodies twitching in the aftershock of that momentous eruption of delight.
Ella told herself it was okay. She’d be fine. She was just unused to sex. To giving herself to any man. This was purely physical.
Then he bent his head and touched his lips to hers in a delicate feather of a kiss and something huge and inexplicable welled up inside. Ella choked back a lump in her throat, blinking furiously as heat glazed her eyes and a tear spilled down her cheek.
‘IF YOU STAY the night, who knows,’ Donato murmured hours later, languidly tracing Ella’s back, ‘we might make it to a bed.’
It was the first time he’d invited a woman to stay overnight but he’d passed the stage of being surprised at his need for Ella. Whatever this was between them, he’d enjoy it to the utmost.
A rich chuckle shivered through her, tickling his hand and tugging at something in his belly. She had a warm, sexy laugh. ‘That would be a novelty.’
He smiled. That was better. The sight of her silver eyes awash with tears had disturbed him, even if it had been in the aftermath of a stunning climax.
He’d gathered her close, ignoring the upsurge of desire as she settled across him. The shadows had lengthened and she’d slept, making him wonder at her exhaustion. Perhaps she hadn’t slept last night either.
Ella Sanderson