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'Sorcha, ' he groaned. "What do you do to me? '
She let her tongue slide all the way down his belly, along the thin line of hair which arrowed towards where he was hard, and she licked him tentatively, so that he groaned again.
His hands tangled in the silk of her hair as she took him into her mouth, and never had he felt more helpless and vulnerable as she rocked her head up and down. He could feel his climax building and building, and part of him wanted to stop her, to take control away from her and to thrust all that pent-up desire deep into her body. But it was too late.
She felt the shudder which began to convulse the powerful body, heard an expression of disbelief torn from his lips and closed her eyes as she tasted him. Afterwards he pulled her back up the bed and cradled her in his arms—and that did feel like real intimacy.
But she mustn't do that—perhaps that was where she went wrong? Thinking that it was more than it was—as if some fantastic orgasm would suddenly give him a complete personality change and he'd start opening his heart to her. But it was in her nature to try, and she wanted him to let her share more than just his body.
She pulled at his shoulder, knowing that it was the wrong thing to do but unable to stop herself. As if she needed to have it written in giant letters for her to finally get the message that he wasn't interested in anything deeper than this.
"Cesare? '
He sighed, knowing just from the tone of her voice what was coming. "What? '
"Why did you come back? ' She met his eyes as he turned back to face her. 'Oh, I know that you're friends with Rupert, and you wanted to do him a favour, and you'll probably make lots of money—but why was it so important for you to seduce me?'
There was silence for a moment.
'Because you were the best sex I never had.' He smiled, but it was a cold and thoughtful smile. 'For years the thought of what I had missed out on ate away at me like a disease, so I wanted to do this—no, I needed to—just to lay the ghost of what has haunted me ever since.'
There was a pause. 'I see.' Sorcha let her eyelids close so that he would not detect the wavering hurt which was making her eyes shimmer with tears. 'And now you have.'
But that was the trouble. Cesare narrowed his eyes. He hadn't.
"We'd better get dressed' he said abrasively.’I have a flight to catch. 1
'A flight? ' she echoed blankly.
'I'm meeting Rupert—we're flying up to the North. The new factory is about to go into production. Remember?'
'Yes, of course.' What an idiot he must think her—they had talked of nothing else for weeks. Yet business couldn't have been further from her mind—all her thoughts were full of him, and it was time she pulled herself together. One day soon Cesare would be gone, and she did not need her career to be left in tatters as a consequence of his going.
She stared up at the ceiling. 'It's such a gamble’ she moaned. 'Starting production before you know whether the new campaign will be a success. What if we manufacture loads of extra bottles of sauce and nobody buys them?'
'Life is a gamble, Sorcha—and sometimes you just have to go out on a limb and take a risk.' He stroked his finger over her face. 'I'll only be gone a few days. Will you miss me?"
Sorcha began to get dressed without answering—because what did he expect? Adoring compliments or declarations of affection? How egotistical was that? Especially as he had been so brutally honest about what she meant to him.
She bit her lip. It wasn't the most glowing testament in the world, was it? She was the best sex he'd never had.
CHAPTER NINE
There's a journalist outside’ said Rupert. 'And he says he wants to speak to Sorcha.'
All eyes around the table looked at her. The boardroom was packed with accountants, operations managers and sales reps, but all Sorcha was aware of was the piercing black gaze which seemed to be stripping her bare—or was that simply wishful thinking on her part? Oh, but she had missed him.
Cesare had been away for weeks. He'd flown straight from the new factory over to the States, and then back to Italy for the centenary celebrations of one of the di Arcangelo department stores. He'd been in regular contact—but you never really knew what was going on behind the scenes when you dealt in phone calls and e-mails.
He had arrived back to discover that a lot of the press interest seemed to be focussed more on the fiery-haired model than on the product—which was every marketing man's idea of a nightmare. He had only calmed down when he had seen the sales figures,
which had gone through the roof.
Across the boardroom he met Sorcha's green eyes with soft fire—because even the supremely confident Cesare had been unprepared for the ripple effect of his original idea.
Nobody could have predicted the outrageous success of his revamped advertising campaign. As Rupert had said, products hadn't just been flying off the shelves—they had been leaving them in whole squadrons!
'So, are you going to talk to this journalist, Sorcha?' Cesare questioned, his voice underpinned with silken sarcasm. 'Or perhaps we should think about hiring a PR person especially for you, who could cope with all the interview requests!'
