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“Stop it!” She screamed, lifting her hands to her ears and covering them. “Stop it!” She screamed again, closing her eyes to block him out.
Carlo strode across to her and eased her hands from her ears. His face was without emotion now, like the eye of the storm. Jane hadn’t even realised she’d been crying, until Carlo’s tongue pressed against her cheek and chased a tear. Jane sobbed louder, the pain of the past an unbearable weight against her chest.
Carlo kissed her with all of the emotions they managed to arouse. Somehow, he removed his jeans, kicking them off before Jane was even aware. In the same movement, he pushed aside the bed linen, and brought his body close to hers. He nudged his arousal towards her entrance, his dark eyes intent on hers. “Do you want this?”
Jane wanted to be close to him. She wanted to know that he understood. That she hadn’t ruined what they had once shared. The guilt she’d felt after being with Roger had cured her of ever wanting to be with another man. Though she had divorced Carlo Santini, she had felt every bit as at fault as if she’d still been married to him.
She nodded now. It was almost as if coming together could erase what she’d done. He thrust deep inside of her, watching as pleasure immediately bent her expression.
Carlo moved again, and again, stoking her fires until Jane was almost at the edge of her sanity. Then, he withdrew, and hovered just beyond her reach. “Tell me he meant nothing,” Carlo demanded angrily.
Jane blinked in confusion. The pleasure she was wading through was a fog, making her brain slow. “What?”
“I want to hear you say that this other man was a mistake.”
Jane shook her head, sanity and sense warring with desire. “I… Carlo… please.”
His lips were a grim line, and despite the strength of his erection, Jane was beginning to feel like she’d fallen into yet another trap. Another of Carlo’s expertly carved mazes. Her heart ached, but her insides were burning with need.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Tell me he meant nothing.”
Jane was crying again, her whole body shaking as grief tumbled through her. For Carlo, the only man she’d ever loved, was using her body against her. He’d taught her to feel. He’d written the manual on what made Jane tick, and now he was using that desire to punish her.
He thrust into her again, and she arched her back, begging him again and again
to release the dam of need. But again, Carlo pulled away from her, making her cry out in frustration.
“He was a mistake,” Carlo drawled, using his fingers to tease her, to keep her on the very edge of sanity. Jane dug her palms into a pillow, and lifted her hips, seeking him, needing him.
Carlo’s laugh was harsh, and it cut Jane’s heart in two.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t keep running through his maze, hoping it would all work out.
“You are a mistake. This is a mistake,” she yelled fiercely, pushing at his chest with all her might. He was so shocked that he fell backwards against the bed. He had not expected her to take a stand against him.
Before his eyes, Jane seemed to be transforming into something and someone else altogether. Her face was pink from desire, but her features were wiped of emotion. Her eyes were moist from unshed tears, but there was no light in them. Just a cold, dark nothingness. She smoothed her nightgown over her hips and walked slowly away from his bed.
“Jane. Wait.” She didn’t stop. She didn’t even pause. He swore and leaped from the bed. When he reached her, he reached for her hand, but she spun around, her face contorted with so much pain that he let go instantly.
“Do not touch me. Ever again.”
Carlo cursed loudly, and watched her walk further and further away.
“Jane. Please don’t go.”
Jane paused, her hand on the door. “You brought me here because you wanted to protect me. What you failed to understand is that you’re the one I need saving from.”
“Jane…”
“Stuff you, Carlo. Just leave me alone.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Carlo kept replaying those crucial ten minutes in his mind. And every replay ended exactly the same. With Jane leaving, rightly thinking the very worst of him.
In his defence, the idea of Jane with another man had brought out every animal urge he possessed. He had felt a feral level of possession for her, and the certainty that she’d gone to another man’s bed had made him temporarily insane.
