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She wrapped the shirt around her and padded silently to the sanctuary of her bedroom where she stupidly risked a glance in the mirror. It was a mistake. Her reflection stared back, mocking her. She didn't see the woman she wanted to see. She wanted to see smooth and sleek. She wanted to see calm and control. Instead she saw wild and wanton. Her fiery hair fell around her face in soft tangles, hair that had very evidently been severely disturbed by a rampant male. Her pale, sensitive skin showed all the evidence of his uncompromising sexual demands. Demands that she'd met. bite for bite, lick for lick.
Oh, God.
She covered her swollen lips with shaking fingers.
She should never have come.
She was a strong, independent woman with a mind of her own and a successful career, but Rico was like a dangerous drug. She couldn't be close to him and not want him and she despised herself for that weakness.
T
hey were as far apart in their attitudes as North was from South but still it seemed she couldn't resist him.
She'd never get over him unless she could put distance between them.
And now that Chiara was awake she was going to do just that.
She was going to make the required visit to the teenager's sickbed, make the right noises and then vanish back to England and find a cottage with such low ceilings that Rico wouldn't be able to gain access without risking extreme physical damage.
As the car sped towards the hospital Rico sat in brooding silence, his mind and body throbbing with an unrelieved sexual tension that did absolutely nothing for his temper.
He couldn't bring himself to look at her.
Couldn't bring himself to focus on the visible signs of his earlier lack of will-power. When he'd dragged her beneath him in a state of sexual desperation, he'd given no thought to the immediate future. To the fact that her delicate skin always displayed the evidence of his attentions for several hours after they'd touched.
The fact that her pale skin was so sensitive had always been a point of fascination for a man whose own skin simply turned a deeper shade of bronze on exposure to the sun. By contrast, the slightest touch of the sun and her skin turned pink and her freckles increased.
Worshipping her creamy pallor, he'd made it his mission to protect her, buying her a selection of hats designed to permanently shade her from the powerful Italian sun.
But tonight he'd thought about nothing but his own satisfaction. And now, he reflected grimly, he was about to pay the price for that display of reckless masculine self-indulgence.
In less than ten minutes they'd be meeting his family and he'd be on the receiving end of horrified, questioning glances from his mother.
Questions that he didn't want to answer.
Questions that he couldn 't answer.
He had absolutely no idea why he behaved with such total lack of control with Stasia. In all other matters he considered himself to be a strictly disciplined man. He'd learned the benefits of self-control at an early age. But with Stasia he reverted to hormone-laden, sex-driven teenager. Unfortunately mind over matter didn't come into it. In his case it was libido over brain.
It was just the stress, he assured himself. A purely physical release from the relentless pressure of the past few days. It didn't mean anything. He was human, after all, and she'd offered comfort.
Was it his fault if the sort of comfort he preferred involved being horizontal?
He stared out of the window and gritted his teeth, aware of her sitting only inches away from him, her bubbling curls pinned in a haphazard style on the back of her head, her curvaceous body once more concealed by the peach linen dress.
But it didn't matter whether she was dressed or naked.
The sexual pull between them was stronger than both of them and the sooner he sent her back to England and delegated communication to his lawyers, the safer for both of them.
He'd give her time to visit his sister, just in case her presence would in any way speed Chiara's recovery, and then he'd have her taken straight to his plane.
And he'd make sure that the engines were already running.
The whole family was standing by Chiara's bedside and Stasia felt her heart plummet. After her steamy, heated encounter with Rico she felt more vulnerable than ever and was well aware that, despite her best efforts with make-up, she was displaying signs of his attentions for all who looked.
She wanted to sink through the floor with humiliation.
Even more so when she met Rico's mother's shocked gaze.
