Mistresses: Lethal Attraction: Uncovering the Silveri Secret / If You Can't Stand the Heat... / Sizzle

She didn’t hear a thing for a full minute or so and then she heard a faint groan. Her skin lifted in goose bumps, as if a ghost’s hand had touched her.

Don’t be silly, she chided herself as she reached for her wrap. Haverton Manor does not have any resident ghosts. At least, none that she knew of.

She tiptoed out into the corridor and immediately noticed a sliver of muted light shining from beneath Edoardo’s door at the other end of the passage. She chewed at her lip, wondering if it was wise to go any further. But then she heard the groan again, louder this time, and it was definitely coming from inside his room.

She pushed her reservations aside and padded down to his door, softly tapping on it as she leant her ear to the woodwork. ‘Edoardo?’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

There was a rustle of sheets being wrestled with. ‘Go back to bed,’ he said, but his voice didn’t quite have the stern authority she was used to hearing in it.

She turned the doorknob before she could change her mind and stepped over the threshold. Her eyes went to his figure lying in a tangle of sheets, the pallor of his face almost the same shade of white. ‘Are you ill?’ she asked.

He cranked open one eye and told her to get out with an expletive graphically sandwiched between the curt command.

Bella turned on the major light near the door but he immediately swore again and put his forearm across his eyes. ‘Turn off the damn light!’ he growled.

She flicked the switch off and came over to the bed where the light from his bedside lamp was shining with a pallid glow. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

‘Get the hell out of here.’

‘But you’re sick.’

‘I’m fine,’ he said through gritted teeth.

Bella rolled her eyes and leaned forward to put a hand on his brow but he must have sensed her coming for him and blocked her by grabbing her wrist with his other hand. He opened his eyes to narrow squints and glared at her. ‘I told you to get the hell out of here.’

She felt the bruising crush of his fingers around her wrist and winced. ‘You’re hurting me.’

He dropped her wrist. ‘Sorry.’ He let out a serrated sigh and covered his eyes again. ‘Just leave me alone … please?’

Bella sat gently on the edge of the bed next to his thighs. ‘Migraine?’ she asked softly.

His whole body sank against the mattress. ‘It’ll pass,’ he said on another weak sigh. ‘They always do.’

‘You get them often?’

‘Now and again.’

‘I’ve never seen you sick before,’ she said.

He cranked open one eye again. ‘Enjoy the show,’ he said dryly.

She placed a hand on his brow, frowning at how clammy it was. ‘Have you taken anything for it?’ she asked.

‘Paracetamol.’

‘That’s hardly going to do much,’ she said. ‘You need something stronger. What if I call an after-hours doctor?’

‘No.’

‘But—’

‘No,’ he said, glaring at her again. ‘Will you quit it with the sweet little nurse routine and get the hell out?’

‘I’m not leaving you like this,’ she said. ‘You could fall and knock yourself out or something.’

He flopped back down, but within a few seconds he suddenly reared up and, almost shoving her aside, stumbled to the en suite, not even stopping to close the door. Bella winced in empathy as he was violently, wretchedly sick. She gently pushed the door back, rinsed a face cloth under the tap and silently passed it to him where he was huddled over the toilet bowl.

‘You don’t give up easily, do you?’ he said but there was no sting in it.

‘I choose my battles,’ she said and rinsed out another face cloth.

He took it from her once he had flushed the toilet. ‘Thanks,’ he said a little gruffly.

‘My pleasure.’

He gave her a look. ‘I bet you’re enjoying this.’

Bella frowned at him. ‘Why would I enjoy seeing you, or anyone, suffer?’

He hauled himself upright and took a moment to steady himself against the basin. She could see the outline of every muscle of his back and shoulders beneath the thin cotton T-shirt he was wearing. The boxer shorts left most of his long legs bare, the muscles strongly corded with regular and strenuous exercise. ‘There are people in this world who would enjoy nothing more,’ he said with a bitter twist of his mouth. ‘It’s sport for them. Cheap entertainment.’

‘I hope I never meet someone like that,’ she said, giving an involuntary shudder.

He looked at her for a long moment. She sensed he was looking at her but not actually seeing her. His eyes had a far-away look, a shadowed look. But then he blinked, turned away and moved back to the bedroom on legs that didn’t seem all that steady.

Bella came up alongside him and put an arm around his lean waist. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Let me help you.’ She led him back to the bed and, while he was still standing, quickly straightened the mangled linen.

He closed his eyes once he was lying flat. ‘If you tell anyone about this, I’ll have to kill you,’ he said after a moment’s silence.

She smiled, and before she could stop the impulse, she briefly touched the ends of her fingers against his where they were lying on the mattress close to her thigh. ‘You’ll have to catch me first.’

He gave a soft little grunt without opening his eyes. ‘That will be the easy part,’ he said and within half a minute he was soundly asleep.

Bella woke again as the sun touched her face in a golden slant from the window. She stretched her legs—and encountered a hair-roughened one. Her eyes flew open as she realised she was in bed with Edoardo.

You’re in bed with Edoardo Silveri!

The words were like a neon sign flashing inside her head.

Had she slept with him? Had she actually had sex with him? She squeezed her thighs together and was momentarily reassured. But why, then, was she lying in his arms with her legs caught up with his?

OK, let’s be sensible about this, she thought. There’s got to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for why she was lying with her legs entangled with his. She was still in her piglet pyjamas. All the buttons were still done up. Maybe she’d just drifted to sleep and unconsciously reached for him. Or maybe he had reached for her. Why, then, hadn’t she woken up and moved out of reach?

Could she somehow wriggle away and leave without him waking?

Before she could get her scrambled thoughts together, he turned and looked at her.

‘So you slept with me after all,’ he said.

‘I did not!’

He smiled a smile that tugged on something deep inside her belly, like a small needle pulling on a tiny thread. ‘You did too,’ he said. ‘I heard you snoring.’

‘I do not snore.’

He picked up a lock of her hair and slowly wound it around one of his fingers. She couldn’t help noticing it was the same finger he had slipped inside her the evening before. She felt her inner core give a little tremor of remembered pleasure. ‘You snuffle,’ he said.

‘Snuffle?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘That doesn’t sound much better.’

He gave her hair a gentle tug, his eyes holding hers in an erotic lock. ‘Come here,’ he commanded.

Bella let her breath out in a fluttery rush that felt like the pages of a book being rapidly thumbed inside her chest. ‘Don’t do this, Edoardo,’ she said.

His eyes read the message her mind was relaying, not the one her mouth had just uttered so breathlessly. ‘You want me,’ he said. ‘You curled yourself around me during the night. I could have taken you then and there.’

‘I’m about to become engaged to another man,’ Bella said, but right at that very moment she wasn’t sure if she was reminding him or herself.

‘Call it off.’

She looked at his mouth, her belly turning over itself as she thought of how it had felt to have those sensual lips moving against hers. She forced her gaze back to his blue-green one. ‘I can’t call it off,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to call it off.’

He tugged on the tether of her hair; it was part pleasure and part pain. But wasn’t that just typical of what she felt for him—a confusing mix of emotions she didn’t want to examine in too much detail? She hated him and yet her body wanted him as it had wanted no one else. His mouth came closer and closer, stopping just above hers. ‘I could talk you into it,’ he said. ‘All it would take is one little kiss.’

Bella put a finger against his lips, the graze of his stubble sending a dart of longing straight to her core. ‘I can’t.’

He opened his mouth and sucked her finger into his mouth, gently snagging it with his teeth as his eyes held hers in a silent challenge that made her insides quiver like not-quite-set jelly.

A sweeping wave of red-hot desire coursed through her.

She felt her body gravitate towards him like a magnet attracting metal. Temptation was like a surging tide she had to swim against without the use of limbs. She felt the hard ridge of his erection against her belly and ached to hold it in her hand, to stroke him, to explore him, to taste him. Her hand moved forward but then she snatched it back, shocked at her own wantonness. ‘Let me go,’ she said, pulling at the lock of hair still tethered to his finger. ‘Please?’

His eyes smouldered with unmet needs. She felt the echo of them like a drum beat in her body. He slowly unwound her hair until there was nothing connecting them but the desire that throbbed like soundwaves in the air.

He got off the bed and hauled the T-shirt he was wearing over his head.

‘What are you doing?’ Bella asked, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat up on the bed.

‘I’m going to have a shower,’ he said and stepped out of his boxer shorts.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him so gloriously male and so potently aroused. She gulped and quickly covered her eyes with her hands. ‘For God’s sake, can you stop parading yourself around like a peacock?’

He gave a mocking laugh. ‘Stop acting like a shy little virgin,’ he said.

Bella didn’t know why but she felt like a virgin when she was with him. His wealth of experience was so much broader than hers. She knew it just by looking at him. She sensed it in her body. He only had to look at her with those blue-green eyes of his and all her nerves and senses would go off like rescue flares.

She didn’t open her eyes until she heard the en suite door close. She quickly scrambled off the bed and bolted, not stopping until her bedroom door was shut tight against the temptation of his touch.

Edoardo worked outdoors all day in spite of the freezing weather. He wanted Bella so badly it was like a persistent ache in his body. Lying next to her last night had been a form of torture. He had wanted to cover her body with his, to thrust into her softness and finally claim her as his. She had crawled all over him during the night, her soft little hands reaching for him, her warm, sweet breath dancing all over his chest as she snuggled close. It had been so hard not to peel those ridiculous pyjamas from her body and plant kisses all over her skin. He had wanted to explore her in intimate detail, to caress her breasts, to taste them again, to roll his tongue over those tight little nipples. He had wanted to slip his finger inside her hot moistness, to feel the delicious clench of her body, to taste her saltiness with his tongue.

But instead he had stared fixedly at the moonlight reflected on the ceiling as he had slowly run his fingers through the gossamer silk of her hair while she slept.

He never spent the whole night with anyone. It was a rule he had never broken. His nightmares were both terrifying and dangerous. He was always so frightened he might hurt someone by lashing out while he was reliving the horror of his childhood.

He loathed the weakness of his body. His migraines were not as frequent as they once had been but they more than made up for it when they came. Last night’s had been the worst in a long while. The doctors had told him stress was a contributing factor. Bella pushing him for information about his childhood had been the trigger; he should never have allowed her to get under his guard like that. She had a way of slipping under his defences, ambushing him with her concerned looks and softly spoken words.

He could just imagine the shock and disgust on her face if he told her about his past. For all these years she had goaded him, taunted him with words about his background that were a whole lot closer to the truth than she probably realised.

He felt filthy. He had lived in filth so long he still felt dirty underneath his skin even though the outside was now clean.

He felt uncivilised. His childhood had been a black hole of despair. He had wanted to die at times rather than endure it. His anger and rage at the world had been like a cancer growing inside him. He had hit out at everyone. He hadn’t trusted anyone to do the right thing by him. He could not afford to get his hopes up only to have them brutally dashed down again. It had been so much harder to summon the will to live after a let-down.

Bella had grown up with every privilege. She had never wanted anything she couldn’t have had at the click of her finger. She had never had to fight to stay alive.

He was still fighting his demons. They plagued him when he was awake and they tortured him when he was asleep.

Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be free.

It was late in the afternoon before Bella saw him again. She was coming back from a walk to the lake when she saw him up on a ladder doing something to one of the second-storey windows. She would have walked past without acknowledging him but the ladder shifted as he reached for one of the tools on his work belt, and her stomach suddenly lurched at the thought of him falling to the icy ground below. ‘Do you need me to hold the ladder steady?’ she said.

He gave her a brief glance and turned back to the task at hand. ‘If you like.’

She watched from below as he shaved some wood off the casement with a plane. The muscles of his wrists and forearms bunched as he worked. He looked strong and fit and every inch a man in his prime. She tried not to think about what she had seen that morning but it was impossible to rid her mind of the image of his aroused body. Her insides were still smouldering with lust. She had been trying to ignore it all day but it was like a switch had been turned on inside her and she had no idea how to turn it off.

The ladder started to shudder again as he came down. She leaned her weight into it and only stepped away once he was safely down. ‘What was wrong with the window?’ she asked.

‘Water damage,’ he said, wiping some wood dust off his forehead with his forearm. ‘We had a big snowfall a few weeks back. The wood’s swollen with moisture. It’ll need replacing eventually.’

‘Why don’t you get a professional to do this sort of stuff?’ Bella asked.

‘I enjoy it,’ he said as he gathered his tools.

‘That’s beside the point,’ she said. ‘What if you had a fall? There would be no one around to help you. You could break your neck or something.’

His eyes met hers as he straightened. ‘That would be quite convenient for you, wouldn’t it?’

She frowned at him. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You’d get the manor back,’ he said. ‘That’s what you’d like, isn’t it?’

‘It’s my home,’ she said, shooting him a resentful look. ‘Generations of Havertons grew up here. I don’t see why a blow-in like you should take it away from its rightful owner.’

‘Not happy with your four-storey mansion in Chelsea and the millions of pounds in assets?’ he asked.

She glowered at him. ‘That’s beside the point. This is where I grew up. This is where I expected my children to grow up. You don’t belong here. I do.’

‘Your father obviously thought differently,’ he said.

‘He should have consulted me about it,’ Bella said. ‘The least he could have done is put it in both our names.’

‘Would you have been happy living with me here?’ he asked.

‘No, I would not,’ she said. ‘Would you?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said with a glinting smile. ‘It could prove to be quite entertaining.’

She gave him a flinty look. ‘I can assure you that if you get sick again I will not be racing to your aid in the middle of the night. You can jolly well fend for yourself.’

‘Suits me.’

She pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘Nor will I allow you to take advantage of me like you did this morning.’

‘How did I take advantage of you?’ he asked. ‘You were in my bed.’

‘Not because I wanted to be.’

His smile was arrogantly, irritatingly confident. ‘No one forced you into it. You came of your own free will. And I have a feeling you’ll be back before too long.’

Bella glared at him. ‘Do you really think I’m that much of a pushover? I don’t even like you. I hate you. I’ve always hated you.’

‘I know, but that’s why it will be such great sex,’ he said. ‘I can hardly wait to feel you come. I bet you’ll go off like a bomb.’

Her cheeks fired with heat and she clenched her hands into fists. ‘I am not going to have sex with you.’

He ran his eyes over her leisurely, heating her with the caress of his gaze as if he had physically touched her. She felt her breasts tingle, she felt her insides contract and shamelessly weep with want. ‘It’s going to happen,’ he said. ‘You can already feel it, can’t you?’

‘I feel nothing,’ she bit out.

He took half a step to shrink the distance between their bodies. Bella had nowhere to move as the garden bed was behind her. She drew in a breath as he trailed a lazy finger across the sensitive skin stretched over her left clavicle. Her nerves leapt and danced and shimmied under his mesmerising touch. ‘Can you feel that?’ he asked, locking his gaze on hers.

She swallowed tightly as a host of sensations coursed through her like a shivery tide. ‘You have no right to touch me,’ she said, although her voice wasn’t as strong and determined as she had intended. It sounded breathless and husky.

‘You give me the right every time you look at me like that,’ he said, tracing a pathway down the neckline of her top.

She felt her breasts tighten in anticipation. Her breathing stalled. Her heart stuttered like an old diesel engine inside her chest. She scrunched her eyes closed, fighting for strength of will. ‘I’m not even looking at you, see?’ she said.

He leaned in closer. She felt him. She felt his thighs brush against hers, and a wave of heat went through her like a knife through soft butter. She felt the sexy breeze of his breath against the skin of her neck. She breathed in the warm, male scent of him: the sweat, the musk, the complex cologne with its intriguing layers of citrus, spice and wood. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted one by one as his lips moved against her skin in a caressing nibble that shot an arrow of need straight to her core.

Bella made a little whimpering sound in her throat, a mixture of frustration and acquiescence. ‘I don’t want you,’ she said.

‘I know you don’t,’ he said, brushing his lips against hers in a teasing touch and lift off caress.

‘I hate you,’ she said, but the words somehow lacked conviction.

‘I know you do,’ he said and sucked softly on her lower lip until her legs threatened to fold beneath her.

Bella grasped his head between her hands, seeking his mouth in blind passion. The hot press of his mouth on hers detonated her senses and sent them into a fiery tailspin. She pushed her body against his, hungry for him in a way she had never thought possible. She ached for his possession, an urgent pulsing ache that was centred at the feminine heart of her.

He gripped her hips and ground against her shamelessly as his mouth worked its masterful magic on hers. It was so raw and primal. She felt the hot, hard heat of him throbbing against her stomach. It awoke every earthy sense in her body.

His hands moved from her hips to tug at her clothes. Her senses shrieked in rapturous delight at the rough urgency. He had her sweater pulled up, her top out of her skirt and her bra undone before she could find the fastener on his jeans. The wintry air danced over her flesh, but before she could shiver, his calloused hands moved over her naked breasts, making every nerve twitch in response. Her nipples tightened as he rolled his thumb over them, her spine turning to liquid as he brought his mouth over each one in turn. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the pleasure of feeling his rough, stubbly face moving over her soft skin.

His mouth came back to hers just as she undid his jeans. He grunted with approval as she finally freed him. The hot, silky length of him filled her hand. Her heart raced as she thought of him moving inside her. She had never been so lust-driven in her life. Every other sexual encounter paled to insignificance. No one had ever made her feel so alive and in tune with her senses. Her skin was super-sensitive to his touch, to the stroke and glide of his hands, to the hot, moist possession of his mouth.

He lifted up her skirt and ruthlessly ripped her knickers and tights down to her knees. Her mouth was still jammed on his, her tongue duelling with his in a battle that was not just about strength of wills but about mutual need.

He played her with his fingers, gently at first, exploring her in intimate detail, before upping the pace. She was swept up in the moment, unable to stop the sensations that ricocheted through her like a speeding bullet. She cried out as her body shuddered and shook against his fingers, her breath coming in startled gasps.

She sagged against him when it was over, shocked at how completely he had unravelled her.

Shocked and shamed.

She stiffened and pushed back from him, grabbing at her tights. ‘Oh, dear God …’

His expression was inscrutable. ‘We can finish this indoors,’ he said, zipping up his jeans. ‘I haven’t got a condom in my tool belt.’

Bella felt anger shoot through her like a powerful, galvanising drug. This was all a game to him. He had no feelings for her. All he felt was lust. He had ‘serviced’ her to prove a point. He wanted to reduce her to a shameless hussy who was driven by physical desires instead of intellect and morality.

‘You did that deliberately, didn’t you?’ she asked, shooting him a contemptuous glare as she tried to fix her disordered clothes. ‘You seduced me like a common little trollop to prove a point.’

‘I was right,’ he said with a glinting look. ‘You went off like a bomb.’

Bella swung her hand through the air and landed a stinging slap on his cheek. He barely flinched but her hand felt as if the bones had splintered. ‘You … you bastard,’ she said, cradling her hand to numb the jarring pain.

The silence pulsated with tension.

Bella suddenly wondered if he would hit her back. His face was a marble mask, his eyes soulless. Her gaze went to his hands; they were clenched tightly by his sides. Fear was like a cold, hard hand on the back of her neck. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

He slowly released a breath and unlocked his hands. ‘Is that really the sort of man you think I am?’ he asked.

She licked her paper-dry lips. ‘I shouldn’t have slapped you … I’m sorry …’

He picked up the ladder and tucked it under one arm. ‘Apology accepted,’ he said and strode away until he disappeared from sight.

CHAPTER SEVEN

EDOARDO sat behind the mahogany desk in the study and looked sightlessly at the figures in front of him on his computer screen. Work was usually the panacea for all ills but he couldn’t get his brain to focus. All he could think about was the feel of Bella in his arms. His body still throbbed with desire. It was like a banked-down fire deep inside him. Just one spark of her gaze and he was alight again.

He had made her confront her desire for him but it had come at a price. The look on her face, the shadow of fear in her brown eyes as she had stood there, made his stomach churn. He had seen that look in his mother’s eyes before his stepfather had raised his hand in one of his drunken rages. Even after all these years he could still hear the sound of that clenched fist landing on his mother’s face or body.