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Close enough that if he’d wanted to, he could have taken her mouth once more, and pleased them both—
Stop that, she snapped at herself.This is not about pleasure. You’re supposed to be coming up with ways to shake this man.
Oddly, none came to mind.
“As in many arenas,” he said after a moment, that same gold light so hot inside her it nearly hurt, “I’m drawn to quality. But I also have certain requirements when it comes to quantity.”
“Are you... Are you talking about sex?”
And maybe the racket in her pulse was shorting out her brain, because she could have sworn she saw a different expression in those golden eyes of his then. It spread across his face. He looked very nearly...amused?
She didn’t dare think the wordaffectionate.
“I see no reason why our marriage of convenience cannot be even more convenient, for us both,” he said as if he was simply making a rational observation. As if he wasn’t talking about sex—and with his hand on her. “It was obvious that there was some chemistry here the other night. As much as I wish to disbelieve it, I find I cannot deny it.”
Her heart was knocking much too hard against her ribs, and she was finding it difficult to sit still.
“It’s the compliments, really,” she managed to say. She tugged her chin back to break his grasp—but he didn’t let go. Just for a moment. Just to show her that he could have held her fast if he’d wanted to. But then he released her, and she felt a rush of something she told herself sternly was relief. Even if it felt a whole lot more like regret. “They go straight to my head. It’s overwhelming, Ranieri. It’s almost as if they might be fake, you shower them upon me with such abandon.”
“Because you have always been such a particular fan of mine?” He shook his head, but his mouth was still crooked in that corner. “But then, it will not be the first time in history that enemies become lovers, will it?”
He was talking as if it was all a foregone conclusion and she felt the heat of that assumption as if she’d poured molten gold all over her. She could feel it at the back of her eyes. She could feel it carving its way deep into the center of her, that place where she was hungriest.
More hungry than she had ever been before—but she didn’t want to focus on that. It was too dangerous. That was clear to her, no matter how new and sharp and breathtaking that hunger was.
“I think you’re overlooking an important point here,” she told him, trying to sound stern and only coming off a bit wispy. She cleared her throat, but that only made his eyes gleam the brighter. “I have no desire to... Um. Consummate this relationship.”
“Do you not?”
“I do not. Icertainlydo not.”
But she knew they could both hear that undercurrent of longing in her voice.
“We will see.” Ranieri settled back against his seat as if it was all the same to him, this casual talk of sexual needs andlovers. “It will be difficult otherwise. Not to find a willing woman, you understand. But to find the sort of regularity I prefer while making certain that the woman in question does not come away with any ideas about what I might offer her. That is always the most difficult part.”
“Yes, I’m certain it’s very hard to be you,” she managed to say.
What she was thinking about instead was regular sex. Did he mean daily? Nightly? More than that?
Contemplating the possibilities made her feel light-headed.
She was still feeling dizzy when they arrived at the gala. So dizzy and gold-drunk as they stepped onto the red carpet to face the gauntlet of reporters that she almost let Ranieri hurry her along inside. She almost passed up this opportunity.
Because she was too busy thinking about sex, multiple times a day, with this man and hisneeds.
But then she remembered that she didn’t want any part of that. That what she wanted was her very own, perfectly happy life of artifacts and old trinkets and beautiful pieces of art. And that wasn’t going to happen unless shedid something.
She looked up at Ranieri as he took her arm and then she took a deep, full breath, because she fully intended to project the nickname he hated so loudly that it bounced up and down the entire island of Manhattan.
That breath gave her away.
Because Ranieri tugged her to him, then gripped her waist. He pulled her close, as if they were dancing.
And then suddenly, before she knew what was happening, he was tilting her down over his arm in a parody of a grand dip.
“What on earth...?” she began.
“This is romantic,” he growled, not even bothering to smile, his mouth close to hers. “Ask anyone.”
