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And now Alicia sat like a statue: fear, a little bit of loathing, largely directed at herself and aching desire all warring in her body.
They pulled up on the gravel and Julieta—lovely, kind Julieta—appeared in the doorway to greet them. Alicia gave her a kiss goodnight and wanted to cling on to her for dear life. But Dante took her hand again and led her to the stairs. She stumbled at the bottom step in her heels and Dante barely changed pace as he caught her under her legs and lifted her up into his arms. Still no words. She looked at his face, which was impassive, carved from stone. Remote. Cold. How could they do this with so little warmth or affection?
He strode confidently past her door and reality sank in. His door was shut behind them and then she was on her feet, breathless, as if she’d been the one carrying him in what seemed like a mere second. She backed away and made for her own adjoining door but he caught her back easily.
‘No, you don’t.’
Alicia arched away from him as much as she could within the steel band of his arms. ‘I don’t want to do this; I won’t do this.’
He didn’t answer, making him seem even more dark and dangerous. Remote. When he lowered his head to hers she twisted hers away and, with more than a touch of ruthlessness, he turned her head back to his. Her whole body was stiff, fighting the urge to sink, and melt.
‘No …’ She struggled again, fruitlessly.
He bent his head to hers and caught her mouth. The sensation was shocking and Alicia tore her head away again, every ounce of her strength going into this struggle, this fight. But Dante was utterly remorseless. With her head turned away, he pressed his mouth against her neck. Her fists beat agains
t his chest and made absolutely no impact. Without force, he merely twisted one arm back behind her, bringing her breasts into tight proximity to his broad chest. There was something untamed about him that called to some deep, dark part of her.
The feel of his arousal against her soft flesh was too much, pushing her over the edge. It started a drum beat of desire in her blood. She could feel the battle being lost, her limbs shaking with the effort it took to resist when she didn’t want to. His mouth descended into the valley exposed by her wrapover top. Her free hand was on his shoulder, it moved to his head, his hair … but instead of pulling him away, as she’d fully intended, that hand caught in the short, silky dark strands and clung on. Then his hand gripped one buttock and he pulled her against him in a move that made her gasp with its earthy sensuality, its urgency. She felt a force flood her entire body and an unbelievably strong urge to connect in the most intimate way with this man. And she knew, at that moment, that he knew she’d tacitly acquiesced.
Alicia’s legs nearly buckled as she swayed. He caught her, lifting her again, and brought her over to the bed, where he put her down on her feet. This time, when he bent his head, she didn’t move, couldn’t fight. Angry with him for making her feel so weak and with herself for this unwanted response, she kissed him back with passion and anger, matching him, their mouths clinging, tongues searching and stroking with heady intimacy.
Her anger emboldened her. Her hands went to his jacket and pushed it from his shoulders, it fell to the floor. He ripped at his bow tie, she heard material tear but it only echoed the sound of her pulse soaring as she watched him open his shirt, to reveal his torso. For a second she couldn’t breathe, just taking in the sight of the sheer bronzed magnificence in front of her. Acting on pure impulse, she stretched out her hands and spread them across the wide plane, the light smattering of hair; her eyes followed it down and she saw the bulge just under his belt.
A finger tipped her chin up. ‘Undo my belt … and trousers.’
She was shaking as she did as he asked, sliding the belt through the buckle and through the loops until it fell open. Her hand went to the top button; she could already feel the heat of him. Slowly, because she was shaking too much to go quickly, she drew the zip down and her knuckles brushed enticingly against his erection, which pulsed and strained against the material of his briefs. He sucked in a breath above her and, when she looked up, they were the only two people in the world. His eyes glittered down at her. Right now, there was only this.
With jerky impatience Dante brushed her hand away and stepped out of his trousers and briefs, standing in front of her, entirely naked. Bronzed, glistening skin stretched over hard, hard muscles. Something caught Alicia’s eye and she instinctively put out a finger to touch—it was a tattoo on his right arm, high up. Some kind of ancient symbol. It looked rough, as if it hadn’t been done properly. The air was very still and heavy around them as she traced it with a small finger. Her eyes grew round.
A burst of angry cynicism rushed through Dante and he smiled down at her harshly. ‘It was part of my initiation into a gang. Does it excite you?’
Alicia felt sad … for what he must have gone through. She looked up hesitantly and shook her head minutely. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate her pity. Even so, she couldn’t help asking, ‘What does it mean?’
Dante took her finger away and brought it to his mouth, sucking the tip deeply inwards before releasing it again. A spasm of lust gripped her, warring with a scary falling feeling in her chest.
He caught the gleam of something in her eyes and felt something beat in his chest—a warning: danger, danger …
He called back that anger, even though it was fast being obliterated by the lust firing his blood. ‘It means, cara, that I trust no one …’
And especially not me … flashed through her head.
But, before she had time to think about it, he had undone the catch at the back of her skirt; it fell to the floor with a swish, and then her top followed equally rapidly. She kicked off her shoes, which lowered her a few precious inches. Dante nudged her back on to the bed. She hadn’t looked yet but now she couldn’t avoid seeing him—all of him. And he looked very aroused. She felt a dart of fear in her belly. What if he was too big for her? And, just as quickly, she felt a rush of liquid desire, moistening her, making her ready to take him. Her own body, a traitor of the worst kind.
He dispensed with her bra and came beside her on one arm, looking his fill. Her breasts seemed to tighten even more, the tips flagrantly aroused, waiting, hungering for his touch, his mouth. As if he read her mind, he passed a palm over one nipple and Alicia shivered. But she exploded into pieces when he bent his head and took it into his mouth, suckling roughly. Her body arched and his hand came around and under her back to pull her close.
Instinctively she stiffened and recoiled as his hand moved down over the still tender skin of her scar. His head came up. ‘What the hell is that?’
Before she could say a word or move, he had turned her in to him to inspect what she knew was a large area of puckered pink scar tissue just above her right buttock. She closed her eyes and pushed away from him so violently that he had to let her go. She was glad of the dark. She scooted back up the bed and hugged her arms around herself, knees up. Guilt, fear and self-consciousness all vied in her breast.
He was looking at her … with pity? As much as she couldn’t bear his censure, she couldn’t bear this.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘It’s hardly nothing, Alicia; you’ve got a huge scar on your back. Where did you get it? Is it sore?’
‘It’s only sore sometimes, if I do too much or anything too physical.’
Dante had a sudden memory of throwing her over his shoulder and winced, guilt rushing through him. Alicia saw it and read it. Her mouth twisted. ‘You weren’t to know.’
