seconds. Dark glossy strands of silken hair fanned her cheek, the exact match of the long flickering lashes framing her anxious amber eyes above the flushed rise of her delicate cheekbones. No, she was not a raving beauty but there was a softness about her, a seeming honesty and vulnerability that had the strangest appeal to a male accustomed to more sophisticated and controlled women. He blinked, disconcerted by that uncharacteristic thought. And that fast desire kicked in hard, tensing every lean muscle in his powerful length with an almost exquisite surge of arousal.
‘You may not be scared but you are upset,’ he contradicted, fighting to stay focused on the conversation but his mind in another place entirely as he imagined igniting all that obvious pent-up passion for his own benefit and riding her raw in his bed to sate the painfully strong hunger punching through him.
‘No, I’m not...it was just a stupid phone call...and sometimes I overreact.’ Topsy was mesmerised by the force of his stunning green eyes holding hers and she could hardly breathe for the excitement gripping her while she scanned the handsome features above hers. In terms of the physical, he really was the most absolutely beautiful man. A supersonic quiet had fallen inside the car so that she could hear her own breathing, air sawing in and out of her throat as if she had been running a marathon, her heart racing like an express train behind breasts that were swollen and tender tipped, that same terrifying heat rising between her legs.
Dante lifted an elegant hand and slowly and with great dexterity and deceptive calm wound long fingers into the glossy mane of her hair to hold her in place. He was in a car and in broad daylight at a place where anyone might see and recognise him. He didn’t know what he was doing but would never ever have admitted that a much more primal drive than intelligence had suppressed his innate caution and freed him from inhibition. The seething hunger was clawing at him like an angry beast, the pulse at his swollen groin threatening to control him as he brought her to him and kissed her with scorching heat, his tongue delving deep, his body firing as she loosed a strangled whimper of response than only made him harder.
Dante reached for her and lifted her out of the seat to bring her down over his spread thighs. He had never wanted anything so much as he wanted the hot, tight, wet heat of her body at that moment and the shockingly new strength of that wanting overpowering everything else inflamed him.
‘What are you doing?’ Topsy gasped, having got feverishly lost in that passionate kiss. He touched her and every sensible thought, every shred of self-discipline vanished as though it had never been. She studied that perfectly moulded, wide, sensual mouth, which felt so firm and sexy and unbelievably good on hers, and trembled, needing more, every skin cell evidently programmed to want more.
Slumberous green eyes below black lashes surveyed her. ‘I think you know the answer to that, cara mia.’
His fingers glided up the sensitive inside of her thighs and her heart rate went from fast to racing in seconds. Tell him no, a voice urged in the back of her head, but the craving for him to go further was too strong for her to fight. In conflict with herself, she shivered, breasts with beaded tips pushing against a bra that seemed too tight to contain her, inner muscles she hadn’t known she had clenching tight at the very thought of greater intimacy. She tensed as a fingertip eased beneath the lace edge of her panties and she knew she should move, knew she should be telling him, no, she wasn’t this kind of a woman. But just then, with Dante Leonetti’s hand on her all too responsive flesh, she knew she was exactly that kind of woman and she was quite unable to resist the temptation he offered. She trembled, gazed down into glittering emerald eyes as bright as gemstones and he found the place he sought, circled, teased, brushed, stroked while she moaned and tried not to lose herself in the terrible maddening pleasure of his caresses. But her body was on another plane of existence entirely, quivering and burning and leaping with new sensation.
‘D-Dante...’ she pronounced shakily at her second attempt to find her voice.
‘Sì...’ he purred like a jungle cat, yanking her head down to claim her already reddened mouth with fierce and passionate urgency. ‘Let Gaetano down gently—he’s a nice boy. I want you naked and hungry in my bed and tonight I will satisfy your every fantasy. Now come for me...’
And with a skilled flick of his hand, the quaking intensity became more than she could withstand and this great whoosh of sensational excitement engulfed her straining body, jolting her with wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure. She heard herself cry out in ecstasy.
Even though his body was rigid with arousal and self-control, Dante was surprisingly satisfied as he rested his tousled dark head back against the head rest. He readjusted her panties, smoothed down her skirt where she knelt on his lap. He had put his mark on her: she was his now and he had no objection to admitting that she was the most exciting woman he had had in his arms in a very long time. He could not believe that she could be engaged in some sleazy relationship with Vittore at the same time as she was responding to him and, Dio mio, that was some response, he savoured sensually.
Shock and embarrassment roared through her in a head-spinning whirl and she scrambled off him in sudden horror, her face red as fire, her eyes momentarily closing in an agony of mortification. What had she done? What had she done? As she moved she saw another car parked a few yards away. ‘Oh, good grief, there’s another car nearby...we’ve been seen!’ she gasped, stricken.
Dante didn’t bat a single magnificent eyelash. ‘My bodyguards, you don’t need to worry about them.’
‘Bodyguards?’ she yelped in even greater dismay, because she knew all about bodyguards, teams of men who operated in all her sisters’ lives as protection and supervision.
‘I go nowhere without them. The bank insists,’ Dante said, unconcerned.
Biting her lip, Topsy did up her seat belt. You slut, she told herself, her body still humming with treacherous pleasure and frank astonishment at what he had made her feel. Even so, his erotic approach had made her feel ridiculously virginal and ignorant, so far out of her depth and foolish she could not even bring herself to look at him again. She would certainly never ever look in the direction of his wretched bodyguards, knowing very well that bodyguards were just as human as everybody else and equally prone to gossip. Had that not been why Mikhail moved her bodyguard Vlad to other duties when he considered that they had become too ‘friendly’. Prior to that, she had heard some very amusing tales from Vlad about his experiences, his Russian reserve crumpling around her. Mikhail had teased her about being a femme fatale for mortifying months afterwards yet nothing had ever happened between her and Vlad. If only she could say the same thing of Dante Leonetti!
DANTE WATCHED TOPSY bounce out of the castle and down the steps to greet Gaetano in his Porsche. She looked incredibly young and pretty in a fuchsia-pink dress and ridiculously high heels. He snatched in a breath, teeth clenching as she flashed her shapely legs climbing in. It was ridiculous: she should have cancelled the date. The very idea of Gaetano getting close enough to touch her made Dante incredibly tense. Yet he was not a possessive man and had often enjoyed non-exclusive relationships that enabled him to retain his freedom. Possibly it was because he hadn’t bedded her yet, he ruminated with brooding intensity.
‘Is that Gaetano picking up Topsy?’ his mother enquired from where she was still seated with Vittore at the dining table behind her son. ‘I hope he behaves himself—not like that Siccardi boy.’
‘Siccardi? Bruno Siccardi?’ Dante referred to one of their neighbours, a young and handsome playboy known for his wildness. ‘She went out with him as well? Maledizione, she does get around!’
‘And why shouldn’t she?’ Sofia enquired. ‘She’s cooped up all day every day with us and we’re middle-aged and not a lot of fun.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Vittore teased. ‘I think I’m just as much fun as the Siccardi boy!’
‘What happened to him?’ Dante prompted.
‘Oh, she had to fight him off, said he had more hands than an octopus