His Virgin Bride: The Fiorenza Forced Marriage / Bought: For His Convenience or Pleasure? / A Night With Consequences

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHEN Emma came downstairs the next morning Rafaele was out on the sun-drenched terrace with a pot of freshly brewed coffee beside him, the morning paper spread out before him on the wrought-iron garden setting. He was dressed similarly to her, in a close fitting white T-shirt and shorts to counteract the early heat of the day. He had recently showered, his hair was still damp and she could smell the sharp citrus tang of his aftershave as she came closer.

He turned his head as he heard her approach, his expression giving no hint of the anguish she had seen there the night before. ‘There is enough for two if you would like some,’ he said, indicating the coffee-pot with a careless waft of his hand.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I never feel truly awake until I’ve had my first caffeine hit.’

‘I will go and get a cup for you,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Would you like a croissant? I jogged down to the bakery first thing this morning.’

Emma gave him a rueful smile. ‘You’re making me feel guilty, talking about early-morning jogs,’ she said. ‘I’m not normally so lazy, but I didn’t sleep well last night.’

His expression was mask-like, although Emma thought she saw something flicker in his eyes as they held hers. ‘I hope it wasn’t something I said.’

She let out a tiny sigh. ‘It was everything you said. I feel like I’ve totally misjudged you. You’re not the person I thought you were. I’m sorry. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.’ She looked up at him appealingly and added softly, ‘I’d like us…I’d like us to be friends.’

The silence stretched for a moment or two.

‘Is that pity I hear in your voice, Emma?’ he asked in a flint-like tone.

She frowned at him. ‘No…no, of course not,’ she said. ‘I’m just glad I now know what happened to your brother and how it affected you and your father’s relationship. Life has been very hard on you. I didn’t realise how hard until last night.’

His eyes glittered darkly as they seared hers. ‘So it explains why I am a complete and utter bastard, does it, Emma?’

She compressed her lips. ‘That’s a choice you make,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to be that way. Lots of people have tragic backgrounds and yet manage to move on without letting it ruin their life and all their relationships.’

‘I have not let it ruin my life,’ he said. ‘And as for my relationships, that is my business and my business alone.’

‘I think you have let it ruin your life,’ Emma countered. ‘You lock yourself away from feeling. I suspect you’ve done it for years. You’re doing it now. As soon as anyone gets close you put up a wall of resistance. You let your guard down with me last night and now you’re regretting it. That’s why you’re being so cutting and unfriendly towards me now.’

He gave a mocking laugh. ‘So little Emma now wants to be friends with me, does she?’

She tightened her mouth without answering.

He stepped closer and, capturing her chin between his finger and thumb, tipped her gaze to meet his. ‘How far are you prepared to take this offer of friendship?’ he asked. ‘All the way upstairs to my bed?’

Emma felt her stomach go hollow as he brought his hard male body even closer. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, her heart beginning to ram against her ribcage as she felt his arrant maleness springing to turgid life against her. He placed a hand in the small of her back, pressing her even closer so she felt the pounding of his blood against her softness.

And then his head came down…

The kiss was explosive. Their tongues wrestled and tangled, darted and dived and submitted and conquered simultaneously. Emma became breathless with growing excitement, her body on fire as his mouth commandeered hers with bruising passion. Her lips throbbed with the pressure, she even thought she could taste blood at one point, but wasn’t sure if it was hers or his, as she had nipped at his bottom lip with just as much fervour as he had hers.

His mouth was still locked on hers as he shoved aside the thin straps of her top and bra, his hands cupping the slight weight of her breasts, her pert nipples driving into the moist heat of his palm. The tingling pleasure wasn’t nearly enough. Emma wanted more of his touch and leaned into him, whimpering her need into the hot cavern of his mouth.

Her breathing came to a screeching halt as he lifted his mouth off hers to suckle on each breast in turn. She arched her back as the rasp of his tongue laved her tender flesh, her fingers grasping him by the shoulders to anchor herself as sensation after sensation coursed through her.

He brought his mouth back to hers, his tongue a thrusting force she welcomed with the shy dart of her own. She heard him make a sound at the back of his throat and her skin lifted in goose-bumps of feverish excitement at how she was affecting him. She could feel the heat and weight of his arousal pressing against her and reached boldly between their locked bodies to explore it with her fingers. He groaned again as she brushed her fingertips over the summer-weight linen of his shorts, the proud bulge of his body making her feel heady with feminine power. She wanted to touch him intimately, she wanted to feel the satin of his flesh in her hands, to shape him, to feel the surge of his blood, to tantalise him the way he was tantalising her.

‘God, I want you,’ he said against her mouth. ‘I am going crazy with you touching me like that.’

His feverish confession incited Emma to slide down the zipper on his shorts, her searching fingers moving aside the final barrier of his underwear. Her breath caught as she felt his body leap against her hand, the smoothness and strength of him rising out of the springy masculine hair making her belly crawl with desire. She looked down at him, her eyes going wide at the size of him as he quivered against her tentative feather-light touch.

‘Harder, Emma,’ he said on a gasping breath. ‘Touch me harder and faster.’

She did as he said, her own body quaking with the need to feel him fill her and explode with the banked-up energy she could feel throbbing against the pads of her fingertips.

He placed his hand over hers, stilling the movement. ‘Stop,’ he said, giving a little shudder. ‘I am going to come right here and now if you do not stop.’

‘Would that be a problem?’ Emma asked on an impulse too strong to withstand. The desire to pleasure him was suddenly irresistible. She wanted to see how much he wanted her, to witness the way his body responded to her caressing touch.

His eyes were so dark she couldn’t see his pupils. ‘I am in the habit of abiding by the principle ladies come first,’ he said.

Emma quickly made a token effort to locate her reasons for not sleeping with him, but not one of them was at the forefront of her brain. All she could think of was the thousands of reasons she wanted to be in his arms: the passion, the excitement, the pleasure and the thrill of experiencing the rapture of his possession.

But if her mind was her traitor, so too was her body. It was already pressing against him insistently as his mouth came down to hers, her arms going around his neck, not even a sound of resistance escaping from her throat as he lifted her bodily in his arms and carried her into the house.

He didn’t take her as far as his bedroom. The largest sitting room was the closest, and, letting her slowly slide down the length of his aroused body to stand on the carpeted floor in front of him, he looked down at her with that scorching gaze of his.

‘Take your clothes off,’ he commanded.

That should have been Emma’s cue to stop this madness, but somehow her hands went to the bottom of her top and pulled it over her head, dropping it to the floor at her feet. She hesitated for the briefest moment before taking off her shorts, leaving her standing before him in her pink lace bra and knickers.

‘And the rest,’ he said, his dark eyes feasting on her hungrily.

Emma felt her belly give two hard kicks of desire. ‘You first,’ she said with a little hitch of her chin.

His lips twitched slightly, but then he wrenched his T-shirt over his head before stepping out of his shorts and underwear, his legs apart, his arms folded across his broad chest.

Emma swallowed as she looked at him. He looked magnificent, lean and tanned and toned and devastatingly virile. His erection was bobbing slightly, as if eager to get on with business. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. Had she done that to him?

‘Come here,’ he said with a glittering look.

She took one shaky step towards him. ‘Rafaele…I—’

He placed the end of his fingertip against her lips. ‘You talk too much,’ he said. ‘Right now I want you to feel.’

Emma was awash with feeling; her entire body was tingling and leaping with excitement at what was ahead. She felt as if she had waited her whole life for this moment. He was her nemesis—the one man who had tempted her out of her sensual stasis.

It was a shock to her how much she wanted him. It pulsed through her with such force it almost frightened her. She had been so very determined not to succumb to his potent sexual allure and yet here she was quivering to feel him thrust inside her.

She put her hands behind her back to unhook her bra, her breathing ragged as he watched her reveal her nakedness. His eyes darkened and his throat moved up and down as she tugged her lacy knickers down. She saw his eyes flare as he took in her feminine form, a pulse leaping in his jaw as he fought for control.

‘You are beautiful,’ he said huskily.

Emma felt her heart swell at the compliment. She had never considered herself anything other than average, and yet somehow now in front of him she felt as if she were the most exquisite creature on earth. Her natural shyness fell away, her desire to pleasure him knowing no bounds as she stepped up against him, her softness against his hardness. ‘So are you,’ she said in a breathless whisper as her hands skated over his chest before going lower.

He sucked in a breath as her fingers trailed through the dark hair that arrowed downwards, his erection thick and hard against the enclosure of her hand. Such power and yet such vulnerability, Emma thought as she stroked him.

‘Enough,’ he groaned and pushed her hand away. ‘I want to taste you.’

Emma shivered as he pushed her down to the floor, the almost primitive urgency thrilling her. He parted her thighs, his warm breath like a caress as he kissed his way up from her knees to the secret heart of her. She drew in a rasping breath as his fingers tenderly parted her feminine folds, the first stroke of his tongue making her back arch off the floor. A flood of sensations swamped her, tingling electric-like feelings that left her mindless as her body’s impulses took over. She felt the first flicker of a spasm and shrank back from it in nervous apprehension.

Rafaele’s hands on her thighs softened into a soothing caress. ‘Relax for me, Emma,’ he said. ‘Go with it, cara.’

‘I-I can’t…’ she said breathlessly.

‘Yes, you can,’ he said gently. ‘I am probably rushing you. I will slow down.’

It’s not that, Emma wanted to say, but somehow couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. How could she tell him she was a virgin? After what he had assumed had occurred between her and his father would he even believe her?

As if he sensed her uneasiness with such raw intimacy he moved up her body, kissing her deeply as his weight pinned her beneath him. She sighed with pleasure as his erection nudged against her moist folds, the sensation of him being so close but not close enough almost unbearable. She began to squirm under him, her body instinctively searching for his.

Suddenly he was there, in one slick, tearing thrust he was inside her, the gasping cry of discomfort she tried to suppress not quite as inaudible as she had hoped it would be.

He reared back, his weight resting on his arms as he looked down at her. ‘I am rushing you, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘I thought you were ready for me. You felt ready for me. I am sorry—did I hurt you?’

She shook her head, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

Emma felt tears prick at the backs of her eyes. ‘I should have told you…I’m sorry…’

His gaze narrowed even further. ‘Told me what?’

She took a gulping swallow. ‘I’ve never done this before… you know…had sex…’

Rafaele stared at her in stupefaction. ‘What?’

She bit her lip again, her eyes sprouting tears. ‘I know I should have told you but I didn’t think you’d believe me…’

He felt a knife twist in his chest. ‘You mean you’re…you’re a…a virgin?’

She winced as if he had just insulted her. ‘Do you have to say it like that?’ she asked. ‘It’s not something I should be ashamed of.’

He stared at her for a moment, his mind whirling. What had he done? Oh, dear God, what had he done? He thought of all the times he had thrown his filthy accusations at her, never for a moment thinking she had been anything other than the conniving slut he’d believed her to be.

His father hadn’t slept with her.

It was almost too much for him to take in. Why had his father left things the way he had? What had he hoped to achieve by involving Emma in such a convoluted way? If she hadn’t been his mistress, then why give her half of his estate? What possible reason could he have had for doing such a thing?

His father hadn’t known Emma before she came to look after him. She had been a total stranger to him and yet he had tied things up to her advantage, giving her the trump card, leaving his only remaining heir at her mercy. Had his father known how he would react? Had he planned this? Why had he used an innocent girl to get back at his estranged son?

Rafaele carefully lifted himself off her, his insides twisting with guilt as he saw a smear of her blood on his body. His throat felt raw and tight and he inwardly grimaced as she hastily tried to cover herself, her face aflame, her grey-blue eyes looking wounded.

He handed her the shorts and top she had taken off earlier before stepping into his own. ‘I am sorry, Emma,’ he said heavily. ‘I had no idea. I wish you had told me.’

She scrambled back into her shorts and top, her bra and knickers scrunched up in her hand, her eyes shying away from his. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have let things go that far…I don’t know what came over me…I’m deeply ashamed…’

Rafaele touched her on the arm, his gut clenching again as she flinched away as if she found his touch abhorrent. His hand fell back to his side. ‘Do not be ashamed,’ he said. ‘It was my fault, in any case. I have done nothing but pressure you into having an affair with me. I have no excuse, other than I truly believed you to have seduced my father in order to get your hands on his estate. I can see now I have done you a great disservice. I would not blame you if you walked out right here and now. It is exactly what I deserve.’

She lifted her gaze to his. ‘I’m not going to walk out on you,’ she said. ‘This is your home, Rafaele.’

He scraped a hand through his hair, not at all surprised to see it was still shaking slightly when he brought it back to his side. ‘Did my father know you were a virgin?’ he asked.

She blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘No, of course not! Why would I tell him something like that?’

He gave her a wry look. ‘Why indeed?’

Her mouth flattened crossly. ‘I had no idea when I came downstairs this morning that we would…you know…’

‘Come on, Emma,’ he said with a touch of impatience fuelled by his lingering guilt. ‘You came down here this morning with every intention of handing me pity on a plate with you served as a garnish.’

‘That’s not true!’ she said. ‘I wanted to clear the air between us, that’s all.’

He hooked one brow up sceptically. ‘That was some flag of friendship you were waving,’ he said. ‘Do you kiss all of your friends like that?’

She gave him a brittle glare. ‘You started it. You kissed me first.’

‘Ah, yes, but then you stuck your hand down my shorts,’ he said with a twisted, humourless smile. ‘That is going a little further than friendship, I would have thought.’

Her cheeks were fiery red, her eyes flashing with sparks of irritation. ‘Do you have to rub it in?’ she asked. ‘I told you I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself. I can’t believe I acted like that. I lost control completely, but I can assure you it won’t happen again.’

‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I was just starting to enjoy myself.’

Emma drew in a prickly breath. ‘Don’t make me feel any worse than I already do,’ she said. ‘I realise it must have been…uncomfortable for you…to be left like…like that…’

‘You mean unsatisfied?’ he asked.

Her throat went up and down. ‘Yes…I suppose that’s what I do mean…’

‘Put it out of your mind,’ he reassured her. ‘I am not going to die because I didn’t get my rocks off. I can handle a bit of frustration now and again.’

‘Yes, well, I’m sure it doesn’t happen very often,’ Emma said with a little pang of errant jealousy.

‘No, not if I can help it,’ he said. ‘But then boys will be boys, eh, Emma?’

Emma wondered if he was mocking her again. The differences between them had never been more apparent. He was a cynical, experienced playboy who took pleasure how and where he wanted, while she was a romantic fool in search of a home-and-hearth-happy-ever-after. ‘Are you laughing at me?’ she asked.

He stroked a finger down the length of her cheek. ‘Why would I do that, Emma?’ he asked, looking at her with those darker-than-night, unreadable eyes.

Emma felt her spine start to unhinge. ‘You probably think I’m an old-fashioned prig,’ she said. ‘Someone who hasn’t lived life at all.’

‘I do not think that at all,’ he said with a little frown beetling his brows.

‘I know I’m far too old to be without experience, but I haven’t found anyone I liked enough to take that step,’ she said. ‘I wanted to be in love with the person first. I didn’t want it to be just a physical thing.’

His frown deepened. ‘So why did you let me make love to you just then?’ he asked.

Emma felt her colour rise again as his probing gaze held hers. ‘I-I’m not sure…’

The line of his mouth tightened. ‘So it was just a pity lay,’ he said crudely. ‘I guessed as much.’

‘That’s not true,’ she said, biting her lip again.

He moved away from her, his expression locking her out once more. ‘It will not happen again,’ he said, unwittingly driving a stake through her heart. ‘It must not happen again.’

Her throat closed over until she could barely speak. ‘If that’s what you want…’

His eyes clashed with hers, pain glittering in their ink-black depths. ‘Do you know what I want, Emma? Do you?’

She shook her head, fresh tears suddenly blurring her vision.

‘I want my life back,’ he bit out as he raked a hand through his already tussled hair. ‘I want to start over. I want to pick up that cricket ball and throw it into the pond instead of towards my brother’s raised bat.’ He took in a breath and added hollowly, ‘And I want to rewind the clock to the day before my mother died so I could have told her how much I loved her while I still had the chance.’

Emma choked back a sob as he continued in the same bitter, heart-wrenching tone, ‘I do not even know if I ever told her that I loved her. Everyone throws those three little words around so casually these days, but I do not remember if I did or not. I was only six years old at the time. If I did I have never said those words since, not to anyone.’

‘You can’t shut off your feelings for ever,’ she said. ‘I am sure you are more than capable of loving someone. I am sure of it.’

He drew in a ragged breath. ‘I am sorry for what happened here this morning, truly sorry,’ he said. ‘I must have some sort of curse on me; all I seem to do is wreck people’s lives.’

‘You haven’t wrecked my life,’ Emma said softly.

‘I hurt you.’ He gave her an agonised look. ‘I made you bleed, for God’s sake.’

‘I’m fine…really I am,’ she said.

‘Maybe you should see a doctor to make sure…’

‘That would be embarrassing and totally unnecessary,’ Emma insisted. ‘Really, Rafaele, please don’t cut yourself up about it. It was bound to happen some time or other, if not with you then someone else.’

He came back to where she was standing and, reaching out with one of his hands, gently brushed her hair back off her forehead with a touch so tender Emma felt as if someone had placed an industrial-sized clamp on her heart. He didn’t say anything; he just stood there with his eyes holding hers, his thumb moving in a rhythmic fashion against the softness of her cheek.

‘I’m glad it was you, Rafaele…’ she told him in a whisper-soft voice.

His hand dropped away from her face. ‘Why?’

She drew in a little hitching breath. ‘Because you made me feel things I have never felt before.’

Pain flickered briefly in his eyes. ‘Do not make this any harder than it already is for me, Emma,’ he said. ‘You are young and far too inexperienced for someone like me.’

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.

‘I say it because it is true,’ he said. ‘This attraction I feel for you will burn itself out in no time at all. It always has with everyone else I have been involved with. It is the thrill of the chase. It is a primal urge that all men feel, some more than others.’

‘If I wasn’t so inexperienced would you be pushing me away right now?’ she asked.

‘If I thought you were developing feelings for me, then, yes, I would push you away, for your own good.’

Emma felt another piece of her heart crack. ‘Isn’t it up to me to decide what is good or not good for me?’ she asked.

His dark eyes flashed at her angrily. ‘Stop this, Emma. Stop it right now. It is not going to go any further than this. It should not have gone this far, damn it to hell.’

Tears began to course down her face and she scrubbed at them with a jerky movement of her hand. ‘Do you hate me so much?’ she asked.

He swore under his breath and reached for her, pulling her into his chest, bringing his chin down to rest on the top of her head. ‘No, no, no, mio piccolo,’ he said huskily. ‘Maybe before…but not now…not now…’

Emma nestled closer, her cheek pressed against the deep thudding of his heart. ‘Then…then can we be friends?’

His hand continued stroking the back of her head as if he wasn’t quite ready to release her. But after a moment or two he eased her away from his chest to look down at her uptilted face. ‘You are a sweet person, Emma,’ he said. ‘Anyone would be proud to have a friend as caring and giving as you.’

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