The Italian's Final Redemption (Mills & Boon Modern) Read online

  The hiss of her indrawn breath echoed in the still darkness, her touch on his skin as warm as sunshine resting on him. Her eyes were wide, that soft, vulnerable mouth open.

  ‘And are you afraid now?’ he asked quietly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LUCY WANTED TO tell him that she wasn’t afraid. But she was. She was terrified.

  Of the smooth, oiled silk of his skin. Of the heat of his body. Of all the hard muscle she could see clearly etched in sharp, carved lines all over his torso. Of the strength and power that hummed through him like electricity through a high-tension wire.

  His eyes were the night itself beyond the terrace and his face was all brutal beauty and ferocity, a combination that mesmerised her.

  She’d told the truth. She’d come downstairs, restless and unable to sleep, because she’d been thinking of him. She’d been thinking of him all day and she didn’t know how to stop.

  The words he’d said to her the night before kept revolving in her head, taking up space. Making her angry that he would dare to tell her what her own emotions were and yet also making her examine those emotions. Examine the fear that lived inside her and had done so ever since her mother had died.

  Yes, she was afraid of him, but it was such a complex fear. And she’d never wanted anyone before, had never thought about physical hunger that wasn’t for food. Had never felt drawn to anyone at the same time as she was afraid of them. It made her think of her mother and how afraid she’d been of Lucy’s father. Yet she’d stayed with him all the same.

  Love, that had been the issue, though, Lucy was sure.

  And she didn’t love Vincenzo.

  The whole day she’d done her best to do her usual thing, which was to pay attention only to the moment as she’d explored the villa, to never think about anything else. Yet it gradually became clear to her as the day went on that she wasn’t just exploring the villa. She was also looking for him. Wanting to see him, talk to him. Ask him how he knew that she didn’t want him, because she wasn’t sure that was the case.

  She didn’t think it was the case now as he held her hand to his powerful chest, the inky black of his gaze holding hers. She wanted... She didn’t know what she wanted. Not love, that was for sure. In fact, she’d never want that, but sex? Maybe.

  Sex wasn’t a mystery to anyone with an internet connection and she’d looked up various things. It had all looked faintly ridiculous and like nothing she’d ever want to participate in, but what she’d seen on her computer screen had nothing to do with the reality of Vincenzo de Santi, half-naked, in the middle of the night in a villa on Capri, watching her with heat in those black eyes.

  There was nothing ridiculous about him. Nothing ridiculous about the heat inside her either.

  Why isn’t he simply taking you?

  A good question. Powerful men took what they wanted, as she knew all too well, but he wasn’t taking her. He hadn’t the night before either, even though she’d offered herself to him. In fact, he’d got up and left rather than reach for her, and that only added a layer to the complex puzzle he was turning out to be.

  An incorruptible man, yet not a man without hungers. A man with a strong moral code who stuck by that morality regardless of what he might want for himself.

  He is not your father. You don’t have to be afraid of him.

  Lucy swallowed, her mouth dry. It was true. He wasn’t anything like her dad. And she wasn’t anything like her mum. Once she’d been fearless like her. Brave and inquisitive and curious, too. But that had been before those things had led to her mother’s death, so these days she locked them away. Fear kept her safe, after all.

  Yet last night she’d realised that she was tired of being afraid, and now she realised something else. She was tired of being afraid of Vincenzo. The frightened little girl she’d spent so many years being wanted to pull her hand away and run to the safety of her bedroom. But the woman who’d spent a day near the sea, who’d smelled the salt and watched the boats, who’d opened her robe and offered herself to a dangerous man, didn’t want to leave. Right now there was a fascinating and beautiful panther in front of her. And she was ruffling his fur and nothing bad was happening. He wasn’t being violent. He wasn’t hurting her. He was only holding her hand to his chest. And she was so very curious about what would happen if she stroked him...

  You’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of yourself, of what you want...

  She took a breath, feeling something shift and turn inside her, a hunger of her own that she’d ignored. A hunger that there was no way of satisfying, held prisoner as she was in her father’s house. So she’d ignored it, shoved it away. Forced it down.

  But it was still there. And it was strong. And yes, it scared her.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered and she felt him tense, the expression in his eyes changing, as if that wasn’t the answer he wanted. ‘Does it matter?’

  A muscle in his jaw leapt. ‘Of course it matters.’

  ‘Why? Isn’t my being afraid what you want?’

  His hold remained gentle on her hand, but his gaze was not gentle in the slightest. ‘No. You’ve been afraid for too long, civetta, and I don’t want that for you. Not now. Not here. Not with me.’

  She wanted to ask him what made now different. But that was a rabbit hole she didn’t want to go down, not with her hand on his warm chest and the hunger inside that kept on getting wider, getting deeper. That she was afraid of, because it felt bottomless. It felt as if it would swallow her whole.

  ‘I don’t think it’s you,’ she said. ‘I think...I’m afraid of myself.’

  ‘Oh?’ His thumb moved on the back of her hand, a gentle caress that sent sparks glittering all over her skin.

  ‘I’m afraid of what I want.’ A shake was beginning in the pit of her stomach, a tremor like a small earthquake. ‘I think I’m more afraid of that than I am of you.’

  Tension was gathering in him, but his hold on her hand remained gentle. She could pull away at any moment. ‘And what is it that you want, civetta?’

  He knew, she could see it in his eyes. But he wanted her to say it.

  You can’t be so afraid all the time. You only have a week. You only have now. Tell him and let him give it to you. This chance won’t come again.

  And he would give it to her. He wanted to.

  Lucy took a slow, silent breath and made herself hold his gaze. ‘You were wrong last night.’ Her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper in the night. ‘I do want you. And I spent all today exploring the villa, but I think...I wasn’t exploring. I was searching.’ She tried to moisten her dry mouth. ‘I was searching for you and I couldn’t find you.’

  The moon was behind him, glossing his black hair and throwing his face into shadow. But that shadow couldn’t hide the flare of heat that leapt in his eyes. ‘Well,’ he murmured, and this time his voice wasn’t cold or casual, ‘you have found me.’

  The tremble became deeper, wider, the tremor turning into an earthquake. ‘Yes,’ she said, unable to think of anything else to say.

  His thumb moved on the back of her hand again. ‘And now you have found me, what are you going to do with me?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her pulse was getting louder and louder in her ears. ‘I don’t know anything. I’ve never... I haven’t...’ The hunger inside her felt too big to contain and she knew if it got any bigger it would shatter her. But she had no experience of this, had no idea what she should be doing. She could hide millions of dollars in offshore tax havens, make them disappear completely, but she had no idea how to touch a man. ‘Please...’ That one word was a request, a plea, an order. Encompassing everything she didn’t know how to say.

  An expression she couldn’t read rippled over his face, then it was gone, and he was looking at her, the blackness of his eyes becoming the entire world. He raised her hand from his chest and brought her palm to his m
outh, pressing a kiss to it.

  She gasped, the feeling of his lips against her skin like a hot coal being held there.

  Then, keeping her hand in his, he reached out with the other and slowly threaded his fingers in her hair, cradling the back of her head, drawing her closer. She was shivering now, but she didn’t pull away; she didn’t think she could even move.

  And when he lowered his head and that burning mouth covered hers all thoughts of moving vanished entirely. Every thought vanished entirely.

  His kiss had taken them all, including her fear.

  Something opened inside her like a flower opening for the sun, a knowledge that had been sitting in her soul all this time. That she’d been waiting for this moment her entire life. Waiting for him. She was Sleeping Beauty and he was the prince waking her from sleep, and now he was here there was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all.

  The trembling took over as he kissed her and so did her need, and her mouth was opening beneath his as if she knew what to do already, letting in his taste and his heat. It felt as if the kiss was a match, igniting her, and now she was burning so hot it felt as though the flame would never go out.

  She hadn’t meant to deepen the kiss, because he’d started off so gentle, but now his tongue was exploring the inside of her mouth, tasting her with more demand, and she didn’t know how to hold back. She followed his lead, tasting him in return, taking in the rich, spicy flavour of him and letting it settle down into her bones. Into her heart.

  One of her hands was still held in his, pressed hard to his chest, but she wanted more than that. More than his beautiful mouth talking to her in a language made of teasing kisses, gentle nips, and coaxing licks. She wanted the heat of that powerful body against hers, wanted to press herself to his velvet skin, explore what he felt like, because she didn’t know and the lack of that knowledge was an ache inside her.

  She moved closer, put her other hand on his chest, glorying in the heat of his body and the feeling of strength. It didn’t frighten her, not any more. She knew to the depths of her soul that he would never use that strength to harm her, not the way her father did, and now all she wanted was to explore that strength. Touch that power. Have it turned on her to bring pleasure, not pain.

  He released her hand and his arms were around her, pulling her close so she was where she wanted to be, pressed up against him. His mouth had turned hot on hers, the kiss more demanding, and yet even now expertly controlled. More and yet not more than she could handle.

  She wanted to handle it though. Because, now she wasn’t afraid, all that was left inside her was strength.

  His hands slid from her hair down her back and suddenly she was lifted in his arms, held tight to his chest as he crossed the room to one of the long, low sofas. He put her on the cushions, sitting her upright, then came down on his knees in front of her.

  She reached for him but he only took her hands in his, turning them palm up and pressing a kiss on each one. Then he put them on the couch and held them there, his gaze fierce on hers. ‘Keep them there,’ he ordered, his voice full of dark heat. ‘Let me give you this, civetta. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.’

  Lucy took an unsteady breath, shivering all over, held fast by the fierce, hungry look in his eyes. She nodded.

  He took his hands away from hers then put them on her knees, easing them apart so he could kneel between them. She took another trembling breath as he came closer, his lean hips between her thighs, his bare chest inches away. He was so tall that, even sitting, she was barely at eye level with him, the breadth of his shoulders blocking out the night behind him.

  Calmly he took her chin in one hand, holding her still as he leaned down and kissed her again, his lips hot, the kiss so achingly sweet that she moaned. He deepened it, his tongue dipping inside her mouth, and as he did so she felt his fingers slide beneath the silk of her robe.

  Clothes had arrived for her that afternoon, but she hadn’t gone through them all, and she hadn’t been bothered to find any nightgowns or pyjamas. She’d gone to bed naked and now he knew that too, his fingers burning like a brand on the sensitive skin of her shoulder as he stroked her.

  It felt so good that she trembled harder, shivering all over as his grip on her chin loosened and his fingers spread out along the side of her jaw, cupping it, his thumb stroking along her skin as he kissed her deeper. With his other hand he eased the silk of her robe aside, the tips of his fingers brushing down her side and lightly following the curve of her bare breast.

  Lucy shuddered, the tips of her nipples abruptly achingly sensitive. She wanted him to touch them, but he didn’t. He only caressed her side and then traced circles over her skin, teasing her, maddening her. His mouth left hers and trailed down the side of her neck, leaving kisses like fallen stars and nips like hot sparks. Making her shake, her fingers curling into the material of the sofa cushions, holding on tight.

  She wanted more, so much more, but he was going so slowly and being so careful, and he didn’t need to. She wasn’t afraid, not of him. Not any more.

  ‘Please, Vincenzo.’ She’d never called him that to his face before, but it felt right on her tongue. It felt perfect. ‘Please... I w-want—’

  ‘Patience,’ he murmured against her skin, kissing down between her breasts as his hands caressed her hips and thighs. ‘I know what you want and I’ll give it to you, I promise. But anticipation will make it sweeter. And besides, I want to savour you.’

  He did? Was she worth savouring? Her mother had died protecting her and sometimes, in her lowest moments, she wondered if her mother’s sacrifice had really been worth it. Because after Kathy had died her only value lay in what she did for her father, her analytical brain and her facility with numbers. And it was a value predicated on hurting others...

  So no, sometimes she didn’t think she’d been worth saving. But now here was Vincenzo, telling her that he wanted to savour her, making her feel almost as if she had been worth it after all...

  Inexplicable tears collected behind her lids, but she blinked them back fiercely. She wasn’t going to cry, not while he was doing this to her. And she wasn’t going to protest, either. Not while he was making her feel so good. She didn’t want to be sad with him, she only wanted this feeling, this pleasure to never end. Because she’d never had it before. There were so many things she’d never had before and all because of him.

  He kissed down her stomach, his hands stroking, making the sweet ache between her thighs become more acute, more demanding, sending delicious chills everywhere. Then he was pushing her thighs wider, his mouth moving lower, and she found herself arching back, ready for anything he might give her. It would only be good, surely.

  His fingers stroked her inner thighs, his mouth finding the hot, wet centre of her. Exploring gently, tasting lightly, and she was shaking so hard she thought she might come apart, her breathing loud, her heartbeat louder.

  An ocean of pleasure rose up around her, hot and liquid like honey, drowning her, but she didn’t care. She wanted to drown. She never wanted to come up for air again.

  His hands slid beneath her thighs, drawing her close to the edge of the sofa, and she leaned back, gasping as he lifted her leg and draped it over one powerful shoulder, allowing him greater access, and then his mouth was back on her, tasting her deep inside as his hands caressed her.

  There were lights behind her eyes, falling stars and supernovas, galaxies glittering, the end of the world approaching. And she had a front-row seat.

  Until even that was lost as the pleasure took everything from her, leaving her with nothing, not even her name. But it wasn’t frightening. She threw herself into it, happy to leave it all behind, the only anchor point Vincenzo’s hands on her, holding her still, and his tongue working his magic.

  And when the end of the world finally came she called his name as the galaxies exploded and she was exploding too, a sta
r blazing in the night, her soul flaming before dissolving into bliss.

  Her hands were on him, stroking his shoulders absently as she lay back on the sofa, her face flushed, her mouth curving in a smile as old as time—that of a woman well satisfied.

  He couldn’t look away from her. He had her flavour in his mouth, a salty sweetness that had to be the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, and he was desperate for more. Strange, when he’d never been desperate for a woman before. Needing sex, yes, but not a particular woman. Not like this.

  Everything in him was urging him to pick her up and take her upstairs to his bed, because he had protection up there and he wanted to be inside her more than he wanted his next breath. Yet he didn’t move, because he hadn’t seen her smile, hadn’t seen her face when she wasn’t scared, and the sight of that smile made his chest get even tighter than it already was.

  He’d done that to her. He’d been the one to give her that smile. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made anyone feel good, made anyone feel happy. All he ever did was cause pain.

  They deserve it though.

  Yes, there was no question that they did. But...looking at Lucy’s smile, he found he liked that he’d been the one to give her that. And he liked that he’d given her pleasure, made her call his name. Wiped the fear from her lovely hazel eyes...

  This is not what you should be doing.

  No, but he was going to do it anyway. He’d crossed the line of his own control, and anyway, to leave her now would be cruel and he couldn’t do it. This would all be so new to her and he wanted to show her what more there was, what more that lovely body of hers was capable of.

  Don’t pretend you’re not selfish. You want her for yourself too.

  Oh, he wasn’t pretending. He did want her for himself. And even though allowing himself to want a woman like her, a criminal, went against his own moral code, he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He’d denied himself many things in pursuit of the justice he craved, but she wouldn’t be one of them.