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‘Yes,’ Vito said, letting his hands start to slide slowly down over her hips and thighs. ‘That time is over. But now we are starting a different stage in our relationship. We are soon to be man and wife.’
Lily stood absolutely still, acutely aware of the movement of his hands. The familiarity of his touch was triggering a mass of conflicting feelings in her. Her body knew him, knew what exquisite pleasure he could give her.
But her heart felt betrayed. How could she be responding to him after he had treated her so unforgivably?
‘It won’t be the same,’ she said, thinking how special it had been to make love to him when she’d believed he cared about her. She’d always thought it was more than just sex.
‘It will be better.’ Suddenly his fingers were unzipping her skirt. ‘It will be the cement that holds our marriage together. Neither of us wants this marriage to fail—there is too much at stake.’
Lily’s heart skipped a beat as her skirt slipped to the floor. Part of her wanted to flee to the en suite and cover up with a warm, fluffy robe. But most of her was shamelessly enjoying the feel of Vito’s eyes as he ran his gaze over the French lace-knickers she was wearing.
‘Are you wearing the matching bra?’ He stood up and started unbuttoning the front of her jacket.
It was almost impossible for Lily to stand still. Liquid desire was running through her veins, making her feel more alive than she could remember. It was as if she had merely been existing, waiting to be back in Vito’s arms.
Since he had stormed back into her life, demanding that she marry him, she’d known that this moment was inevitable. He was a red-blooded male, with a powerful libido. Celibacy was not in his nature. If this marriage was to succeed, then sex would play an important part.
But his hands were moving so slowly. It was taking him too long to remove her clothes. She yearned to feel his hands on her body, to feel his naked skin next to hers. She ached for him to make love to her, because that was surely what was to follow. And then she could let herself pretend that things were back to normal—that he had never thrown her out, and the last six weeks had never happened.
At last her jacket fell away to reveal a plain stretch-lace camisole. He took hold of the hem and pulled it over her head. Then he stepped back and let his gaze slide all over her.
Lily stood in her lacy bra and French knickers, still wearing her hold-up stockings and high-heeled shoes. Hot anticipation pooled deep inside her. Her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples were diamond-hard points straining against the flimsy covering of lace.
He’d hardly touched her, yet a sensual tingle moved through her body, settling in her most intimate place, making her need for him almost unbearable. She could feel her exposed skin flushing, betraying her sexual readiness to him.
His blue eyes grew darker as he looked at her, and she knew exactly how the sight of her was affecting him. She could hear the change in his breathing, recognise the expression on his face that meant he wanted to make love to her. But he made no move towards her.
Suddenly a shuttered look descended over his features and he turned to pick up the peach dress from the bed.
‘You’ve lost weight,’ he said. ‘But this style should be forgiving.’
‘Forgiving?’
His choice of word was like a slap in the face.
At that exact moment she knew he would never forgive her for what he thought she’d done. It made no difference that he was mistaken, that there was no possible proof of her sin against him—her denial would continue to fall on deaf ears.
‘You are the one that needs forgiveness, for the awful way you treated me. For the way you’re still treating me!’ She snatched her clothes up off the floor and held them protectively across her body.
He had never truly planned to make love to her. His intention that morning had only ever been to humiliate her.
But she’d spoken her mind before she thought about the consequences, and as Vito turned back towards her his fury was almost palpable.
‘Don’t pursue this.’ His words were forced out through gritted teeth, and she could see the monumental effort he was exerting to control his rage. ‘You won’t win. You can’t win. It would be better for everyone if you don’t keep reminding me of your betrayal—of the fact that you are carrying another man’s child inside you.’
‘But—’
Vito didn’t need to speak again to quell Lily’s retort. As his gaze met hers, the tortured look in his eyes cut through her pain, and in a sudden instant of clarity she realised how he was being torn apart by his belief that she had cheated on him.
But it wasn’t her fault that he thought she’d been unfaithful. Was it madness to stay with someone who thought her capable of such a thing? But she’d made her decision—she had to marry him to make a future for her unborn child.
Later, for her own sake, she was going to have to try to discover why he believed what he did. But for now she had to let it rest. From the anger and tension radiating from every ounce of his powerful body, she could tell that now was not the time to keep pushing him. There was no chance of having a reasoned conversation with him while he was so tightly wound and his anger so raw.
‘Put this on,’ Vito said, holding out the dress to her.
She slipped it over her head silently, gathered her long hair to one side, and turned to present him with the zip. She straightened her shoulders consciously, determined to show him that her will was as strong as his. She wouldn’t fight with him now—but neither would she let herself be quashed by the brute strength of his personality.
He pulled the zip up slowly, not touching her at all. She exhaled quietly, careful not to let him know that she’d been holding her breath in case his fingers brushed against her sensitive spine. Then she turned to look at her reflection in the mirror.
