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Then he deposited her on the bed in an exhausted naked sprawl, calmly dressed and informed her that he’d see her for dinner that evening at seven.
When the door shut behind him, Alicia welcomed the fog of exhaustion, pulled the cover over her and sank into a mind-numbingly blank sleep.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS only when Dante had closed the door and was walking away that his composure faltered slightly. He remembered the shower, how she’d felt around him as he’d thrust into her again and again. How the little moans had become cries as her orgasm had broken at the same moment as his. The feeling of his flesh encased in hers. At that moment he’d not been able to imagine anyone else in the world driving him to such heights of pleasure.
And had she really pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered brokenly into his ear, as he’d thrust deeply, that she was sorry for slapping him? He stared at himself in the mirror of the lift. He looked the same. But he didn’t feel the same. He felt as if somehow a protective layer had been stripped from his epidermis. He touched his cheek where she had kissed him and knew it had happened, knew she’d said the words, but why?
And when she’d been unable to stand afterwards, she’d clung on to him so weakly that he’d had to carry her, and even as he’d laid her, exhausted, on the bed, his own body had been ready to take her again … and he couldn’t help a dart of self recrimination—she was so small; he knew that very likely she’d be sore.
‘You look pale, dear; are you all right?’
Alicia forced herself to smile and nodded at Patricia. She’d persuaded the other woman to meet her out on the decking overlooking the beach for aperitifs before dinner, leaving a note for Dante in the room. It was a pretty pathetic way of trying to prolong the inevitable—seeing him again. Humiliation still burned through her when she thought of the morning and how ruthlessly he’d made her his, he might as well have branded her with a cattle iron.
And when she thought of how she’d felt compelled to kiss his cheek and whisper, ‘Sorry’ in his ear, she cringed.
‘Ah, here he is now.’
Alicia froze. She stood slowly. She was still sore, muscles aching all over and especially between her legs. She turned with extreme reluctance to face her nemesis and everything flew out of the window.
An emotion so strong rushed through her as she watched him walk towards her with that innate animalistic grace that she had to grip the chair back behind her. His dark eyes were unreadable and flickered down her body as he came close and leant in to kiss her on the lips. Ever the act. Pain skewered through her. His kiss was swift and hard and she couldn’t avoid it. A blush stained her cheeks as a tingle started up between her legs, treacherously banishing the aches and tenderness.
Dante greeted Patricia too and engaged in banal conversation as he sat down and ordered a drink but he was supremely aware of Alicia. Her hair was down, around her shoulders in curly tendrils. She was dressed in a simple black jersey dress. With long sleeves it looked almost demure but for the deep V at the front, which showed tantalizing glimpses of her cleavage. His hand clenched around his glass; he didn’t want anyone else looking at her, imagining sliding their hands under the material to cup and caress her breast.
Both women were looking at him expectantly, Alicia with an unmistakable wariness in her eyes. Again, he had the uncomfortable sensation that perhaps this morning he’d been too demanding … and yet she’d been so responsive, with him every step of the way, with those soft breathy moans.
‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’ With a witch …
He shot her an irritated look and she blanched. And just then he saw the slightly bruised looking shadows under her eyes. An uneasy prickling assailed him for a second before he quashed it. He forced himself to concentrate on Patricia’s chatter until Derek joined them.
As they walked out of the hotel and down the road to the restaurant they’d booked for dinner Dante took Alicia’s hand and noticed something—on her feet were black flip-flops. She noticed him looking and grimaced. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think, if they won’t let me in without …’ She stopped. ‘Look, I’ll just run back and get proper shoes.’
He could see the red weals on the backs of her heels; they still looked sore and angry.
‘No,’ he said gruffly, vowing then that if anyone so much as looked at her strangely for wearing flip-flops that they’d go somewhere else. ‘It’s fine. They obviously need to heal.’
The relief on her face made him feel very strange, even as the unsavoury events of the day warred for supremacy in his chest. This woman was making a serious habit of turning his life upside down. And he was letting her.
‘They should be better by tomorrow; I’ve been putting cream on them all day. It’s my own fault; I’m not used to wearing those kind of shoes.’
He looked away from her huge brown eyes and hardened his heart. He cursed himself for the umpteenth time that day for letting her and her complications into his life. The woman was like a sledgehammer between his eyes; he couldn’t see straight or think straight with her around.
* * *
In the restaurant, once they’d ordered, Alicia forced herself to relax and looked around. She caught Derek’s eye and smiled but he blushed a little and then looked away guiltily. This was so far removed from the genial joky man she knew that she reached over without thinking. Dante and Patricia were deep in conversation beside them.
‘Derek? What is it—is something wrong?’
He looked at her again and now looked unbelievably guilty and worried. The conversation stopped beside them and Alicia caught Patricia nudging Derek, as if to tell him to behave. Now she looked guilty too when she caught Alicia’s look. Alicia felt sick to her stomach.
‘What is it? Please.’
Even Dante beside her couldn’t distract her from this.
Eventually he was the one who bit out, ‘You may as well tell her; we already spoke about it this morning.’
Her insides froze. And she beseeched Patricia with her eyes.
