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So she didn’t like it. So what? ‘Of course.’ Solo frowned, indicating a door to the left of the kitchen area, his expression stern and remote. ‘All the facilities are located through there.’
Penny raised an eyebrow. ‘Thank God for small mercies.’
‘I am not completely primitive,’ he said coldly.
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ she muttered under her breath, and, without a word, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against his long body. His head bent and his mouth closed over hers with brutal savagery, forcing her lips apart in a kiss that shocked her into numb submission.
‘That is primitive, my sweet wife.’ Solo’s eyes narrowed in a slow, raking appraisal of her slender form. ‘You need to know the difference, because what happens next is your choice, but don’t try my patience. I waited four years for you, and then another four days—symbolic maybe, but too long.’
She tilted back her head; her eyes, flashing with anger, clashed with his darkening gaze. ‘Very symbolic—four is the number of the devil in Japanese culture,’ she shot back defiantly.
‘Then as you have labelled me a devil, you silly girl…’ he grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger, and she could see the cold fury in his silver
eyes… ‘I am quite prepared to act like one. I would hate you to be disappointed,’ he declared with mocking cynicism, his other hand sweeping around her back, and before she knew it his fingers had swiftly unzipped her gown.
‘I am not silly or a girl.’ She slapped his hand from her face and jerked free. ‘You saw to that,’ she hissed, burning with resentment and trying to grab at the front of her dress.
‘And you loved every minute of it,’ he declared sardonically, and, catching her hands, he held them wide, and to her utter humiliation the pearl-strewn gown sank to pool on the floor at her feet.
She heard his sharply indrawn breath and for a long moment he simply stared. ‘I have been longing to do that since the first moment I saw you in that dress.’ Solo’s voice lowered to a husky murmur as his eyes roved over her delicate features and lower to her firm breasts, the tiny waist, and the small white lace briefs that barely saved her modesty.
Struggling to free her hands and burning with embarrassment, she used the only weapon left to her and lashed out at him with her foot, connecting with a shinbone. But in seconds she was powerless to move as he linked her hands behind her back in one of his, hauling her hard against him and raking his other hand through her hair, sending rosebuds careering to the floor. ‘Let me go,’ she gasped, wriggling ineffectively in his grasp, the atmosphere suddenly raw with tension.
Solo laughed softly. ‘Never.’ His silver eyes held her furious green gaze, his teeth gleaming in a devilishly menacing smile. ‘And you don’t really want me to.’ His gaze flicked down to her breasts heaving with her recent exertion, and back to linger on her slightly swollen lips, and then her hair.
‘Your hair should always be loose.’ Threading his fingers through it, he smoothed the silky mass down over her shoulders in an oddly tender gesture. ‘That’s how I always picture you.’
A warm tide of colour washed over her body—that Solo pictured her at all was a surprise to Penny, given the women he had enjoyed, and she was rather flattered at the thought. His face was close and there was something mesmerising about his silver eyes, his deep, husky voice.
She felt his hand at the nape of her neck, urging her head back as he lowered his own, and he brushed her mouth with his with an almost reverent gentleness, so different from what had gone before that she sighed her relief, the fight draining out of her. Her eyes fluttered closed as with practised expertise he kissed and caressed her silken skin until every cell in her body pulsed with aching need.
She felt herself being swept up in his arms and deposited on the wide bed, and the soft warmth of silken sheets at her back.
‘That’s better, my beautiful bride.’ And Solo’s warmth was withdrawn.
Better for whom? Her eyes flew open. Solo had shed his shirt, and was stepping out of his trousers. With fast-beating heart, she stared at him; his bronze body, all taut muscle and sinew, left her breathless. She gulped. ‘What are you doing?’ she cried inanely, casting him a nervous glance.
‘Well, if you haven’t guessed by now,’ Solo drawled, his silver eyes gleaming wickedly, ‘your education is sadly lacking,’ he mocked, and he had the nerve to chuckle as he lowered his long body on the bed and curved an arm around her shoulders. ‘But no matter, I will soon rectify your lack.’
‘You have a vastly inflated ego,’ Penny snapped back, his mockery infuriating her again, but the sight of his naked body had a debilitating effect on her anger. He was even more beautiful, more awesome than the picture that had haunted her sleep for the past few nights—incredibly handsome and with a body to die for. The trouble was she knew just how he could make her feel; her temperature was already shooting off the scale at the warmth of his naked thigh against her own.
‘No, merely a vast experience with the female sex.’ A smile quirked the corners of his mobile lips. ‘Which I am putting completely at your disposal, Penelope mine.’
He was teasing her—the devil thought his vast numbers of lovers were amusing! Penny tore her gaze from the latent sensuality in his grey eyes. ‘I am not yours; in fact, I think I hate you,’ she grated, not for a second admitting she was also madly jealous at the thought of all his other women.
‘You know the cliché: hate is akin to love, but at least hate is an emotion.’ Solo loomed over her, supporting his weight on one elbow, but his hand still curved round her shoulder. With his other he held her chin, his silver gaze burning into hers, his expression solemn. ‘Indifference is the real killer, Penny, I know.’
For a second a fleeting shadow seemed to dim his glittering eyes, and Penny had the odd idea the powerful domineering male she had just married looked vulnerable. Quickly she dismissed the idea. Solo was a typical Alpha male, and she doubted if anyone, male or female, could ever be indifferent to him. Whether it was love, hate, admiration, envy, lust or jealousy, he aroused strong emotions simply by being Solo Maffeiano.
‘And whatever else you are,’ his deep, husky voice continued temptingly, ‘you are not indifferent to me, Penny, cara.’ His thumb and finger brushed down her throat, and lower until his palm cupped her breast and the tantalising fingers tugged very gently at the nipple. ‘My bride and soon my wife.’
Penny did try to resist, but his touch ignited a burning hunger within her she was helpless to deny. Warmth coursed through her veins, and with a low, inaudible groan, her eyes wide and luminous, she stared up at him. Wife, and he was her husband. Why deny her own feelings? She wanted him, and which emotion fuelled the craving she did not care any more. Instinct told her despite her naivety that Solo would be a hard act for any man to follow.
Reaching up, she traced the hard line of his jaw with her fingers, and up into the silken black hair at his temples. The marriage might be for all the wrong reasons, and, if she were not pregnant, would almost certainly be brief. She had no faith in her ability to keep and hold a man like Solo, even if she wanted to, but for now he was her husband.
‘My husband.’ She murmured the words out loud, and he grasped her hand and pressed a hot, hard kiss into her palm.
‘Yes. Oh, yes,’ Solo said huskily, and her eyes widened into huge pools of helpless longing as he lowered his head. His lips traced her own with incredible tenderness, exploring and teasing and urging her response. ‘We can dispense with these.’ He raised his head and she felt his hand peeling her briefs from her body. ‘I want you naked against me,’ he rasped. This time Penny reached for him.
