A Passionate Revenge Read online

  Her breasts rode high above her sucked-in stomach—drawn in, he believed, from tension, not vanity, because her lips were parted and little spurts of harsh breath whispered through them.

  ‘Hand.’

  That was barely audible. Just a pained rasp. His throat dried. He closed his eyes at the exquisite ache that had claimed him. The silk slithered over his wrist and up his arm.

  No… He opened his eyes. It was her hair, slipping and sliding till his skin seemed alive with sensation.

  ‘Anna! Kiss me!’ he breathed.

  Through the swollen rosiness of her lips, she whispered, ‘Wait.’

  She paused, staring at him, the smoky haze of her eyes melting every bone in his body. Then biting her lip, she straddled him and he could feel the heat of her burning into his abdomen as she slowly undid each button of his shirt.

  Pushing it open with shaking hands, she let her fingers wander over his jerking chest muscles while he fought to stop himself from groaning out loud. Her breasts filled his vision yet he couldn’t touch them. Straining up with his mouth, he attempted to catch one dark-tipped nipple with his tongue.

  Imperceptibly she leaned lower and allowed herself to be teased by the tip of his tongue; first one breast and then the other. She tasted salty and he realised her skin glistened with moisture.

  Eagerly he lapped, desperate to provoke her so that he could take charge again. Because he wanted her. Now.

  Her head went back and she moaned, the glorious length of her neck achingly vulnerable to him. Then she wriggled down his body and pushed off his shoes and socks in frantic haste.

  Stretching as far as he could, he reached out his left foot and made contact with her satiny stomach. She shivered and let out a little mew of pleasure, moving closer so that he could explore.

  He felt the slight weight of her breasts, delighting in their soft, sensuous roundness. His toes brushed across the hard peaks and she writhed wantonly.

  Desperate to hold her, he tugged at the silk that confined him but the knots only tightened.

  ‘Release me,’ he growled in a voice not his own.

  ‘No. You—wanted—this,’ she jerked.

  He looked down and saw the dark cap of her head and the gleaming smoothness of her beautiful shoulders. Then with a few deft movements she had stripped off his jeans and briefs.

  He closed his eyes again, willing himself not to ejaculate. She didn’t touch him. A groan of need escaped him. The silence, the waiting, was driving him crazy. What was she doing? Every pulse in his body thundered painfully. He was rigid with imposed control, his muscles quivering with tension.

  And then it began. A slow, wickedly delicious tremor that ran over the surface of his skin. The caress of her hair against his straining hardness. The lightest fingertip touch over his pelvis. The moist enclosure of her mouth around his nipple.

  ‘Anna!’ He fought his way to reality and forced his heavy lids to open. ‘I can’t hold on. Set me free—’

  He shuddered. Stared into her drowsy eyes, his heartbeat leaping uncontrollably. The pleasure was intense. Her hand had slid down his hips and was inexorably moving to his hard arousal.

  And then she shifted her weight, slipping off her bikini briefs impatiently as if she couldn’t bear to wait any longer either. He watched her settle just above him and he pushed his hips up in desperation so that he could feel her soft, wet warmth.

  With a shudder, she impaled herself on him, deeper, deeper, as he struggled to hold back, frantically counting the stars on the canopy over the four-poster till even they began to blur and combine.

  Because she was kissing him and the sweetness of her mouth touched every heartstring in his body.

  ‘Oh, Anna! Anna!’ he whispered, greedily devouring her mouth as the pressure in his loins became more intense.

  ‘You want me!’

  It was a statement, not a question. He answered by thrusting hard at her and she gave a delighted shudder, the rapture on her face totally destroying his self-control.

  As he quickened his movements, she did so too. And suddenly he felt the squeeze and quick release of her internal muscles, hard and sharp, over and over again until he was mentally climbing the wall with pleasure.

  He thrashed about the bed, groaning, feeding on her mouth, nibbling angrily at her because she controlled the pace and he wanted to climax before his muscles gave out in exhaustion from the savage tension he was putting them under.

  But he hung on. Because her delight stunned him. He was pleasing her again and that gave him a kick and a strange sensation of satisfaction that he couldn’t begin to understand.

  She could hardly breathe. The storm inside her body was driving her on, some inner knowledge telling her when to pause, when to continue, when to tighten her pelvic muscles to produce that look of delirium on Vido’s face that had turned her heart to jelly.

  He was pleading. Whispering lyrical words in his own language. She took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, overwhelmed by her own feelings. And then sat back, her eyes fixed on his as she sought the final satisfaction.

  Speared on him, every inch of her a mass of sensitised nerves, she suddenly wanted his full co-operation. Lunging forward, she tore at the knots, muttering desperately when they failed to release. And then he was free.

  With a gasp, he flipped her over and his beautiful weight sank on her eager body. She gave herself up to the wonderful sensations inside her. Her eyes closed, her lips parted and she began to pant and beg for more, more, more.

  Hot and hard, he thrust inside the sweet, hungry core, jerking and bucking like her. Dimly she was aware that they were almost fighting their way over the bed, her foot or hand or naked buttock occasionally feeling the hardness of one of the posts.

  It seemed she didn’t know which way up she was, let alone where, as the tension built to an unbelievable height and she felt she was boneless, bodiless, all her senses concentrated in one place.

  No. Two. Her heart yearned for him too. Longed for love. To be free to adore her lover. Bitterness touched her briefly because she knew that was impossible. The man she loved would never have Vido’s flaws.

  And then he lifted her up, pushing her legs around his strong back, and she was lost to the world of sensual sensation as he plunged deeper and faster and she felt the incredible spasms rocket through her body one after the other in hard, rolling, unstoppable waves.

  For a moment she seemed to hang in mid-air, then she became aware of her breathing and his, the gentle, sweet taste of his mouth on hers, the shuddering of his body as he carefully lowered himself to distribute his weight and then she knew the slow quietening of her body.

  She smiled. Her smile was kissed from corner to corner. His head nestled into her neck and his lips were soft and warm there.

  ‘Anna!’ he whispered brokenly.

  Trembling at the emotions that pelted through her head like rain, she stroked his head. It had been good sex, she kept telling herself. Nothing more. Plenty of people did this and didn’t confuse gratification with love. It was just her stupid, romantic brain that wanted it to be more than raw pleasure.

  Yet the longer she lay there in his arms, listening to his rapid heartbeat gradually slowing, hearing him breathe, rejoicing in being held, the stronger her yearning for love grew.

  ‘I think,’ she said croakily, needing to break away from her dreams, ‘I’ll have a shower.’

  ‘I’m environmentally friendly,’ he said, taking her face in his hands and gazing at her intently. ‘Let’s save water together.’

  He saw the flash of pleasure that lit her eyes and that parted her lips in a small gasp. It ripped through him, too. He was bewildered. He’d never felt like this before. Not this…raw tenderness. He fought it. Not wanting it.

  Their shaking fingers linked. Before he knew what he was doing he had kissed her long and sweet, the kiss of an adoring lover. He shut his mind to what he was feeling. Great sex. He had what he’d wanted; her total capitulation
. All that remained was the matter of clearing his name of the theft.

  Hell. He’d forgotten to make her confess while she was in the throes of passion! He swore under his breath. Next time. A wry smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. The problem was that everything went from his head when she was in his arms. Poor misguided fool that he was.

  Wrapped in his embrace, her body had become limp and pliable. Hardly capable of breathing, he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom.

  In the tiny room, she stood before him, naked and painfully beautiful, her huge eyes wide amid their fluttering fringe, her skin so flawless that he could only stare at her in reluctant awe.

  ‘You’re unbelievable,’ he husked.

  Tears filled her eyes.

  ‘Anna!’ He looked at her helplessly, not knowing what he’d done.

  ‘I’m OK.’ Her fists knuckled away the threatening tears and she turned, walking to the shower, her tight rear capturing Vido’s fascinated eyes. Looking back at him over her shoulder, she said with a shaky laugh, ‘It’s just that I’ve finally accepted I look all right, after all those years of being a hag.’

  He felt the pain tighten his mouth and curl hotly in his stomach. It was no wonder that she’d hated the world she’d lived in, and had become contemptuous of people. Perhaps anyone in her position would be bitter and resentful and full of spite.

  As he stood there, with the sound of the shower dimly penetrating his mind, he tried to kick back the emotion that had shot like a fountain to fill every cell in his body. No emotion, he told himself. No pity. Enjoy her.

  Joining her, he gently soaped her body as he might that of a child. She was strangely meek and listless, in contrast to the abandoned woman who had aroused him to such intense heights only moments before.

  Obediently she lifted her arms when directed, turned and stood still while he took a heart-stoppingly tender pleasure in what he was doing.

  ‘Out you go,’ he said huskily, his throat thick with emotion for this child-woman, this siren-innocent. ‘Dry yourself. I’ll be with you in a moment.’

  Quickly he lathered up and showered off the suds. She seemed to be in a dream, her hands vaguely dabbing with the towel, so he took over and dried her before pushing her back into the bedroom to dress.

  And then it dawned on him. ‘Dio!’ he whispered, stopping short.

  They’d taken no precautions. It had happened so quickly. He had something ready, in his pocket, but she’d taken over and he hadn’t given it another thought…

  Dannazione! There was a danger that she might become pregnant!

  He froze with shock. Not because he was horrified, but because he’d felt a wild leap of joy that she might be carrying his child. Hell. He really did want to be a father. Badly enough to accept even someone like her as the mother of his baby.

  To his bewilderment he found himself smiling. Saw in his mind’s eye, Anna cradling a small infant, her soft eyes full of joy as she looked up at him and said, Vido! Look, our baby!

  He groaned. Rigorously he punished himself with a fierce rasp of the towel over his aching body. Wished he’d never begun to think about babies because there was a terrible yearning inside him that he knew wouldn’t be quieted.

  He was building castles in the air and making Anna his princess, because he wanted to be a father so badly.

  Except… His spirits sank as his logic took over, reminding him that she was sexually experienced. That had been made very clear. So it was likely she and Peter had been lovers when things were going well between them—and she could still be on a contraceptive pill. Which was why she’d had no qualms about making love with him, and why she hadn’t asked if he had any protection.

  He swallowed, a terrible misery filling his throat. That meant there would be no child. He felt stunned. The possibility had made him so happy for a moment…

  Giving himself a stern talking-to for being a sentimental fool, he strode firmly into the bedroom and dressed, ignoring her where she sat brushing her hair. He needed to get his head sorted about this.

  Anna loathed him but she liked sex. That was the only reason they were together.

  Therefore, they would have fun. She would learn—if not to like him—at least to respect him. And then he would extract her apology and they’d part in due course. Anything else, any attempt at finding a heart inside that gorgeous body of hers, he realised, might be a disaster.

  He couldn’t allow himself to believe that his tender longing for fatherhood had anything to do with Anna. And no way was he going to embark on a proper relationship just because he was broody.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ she said, oddly shy when he looked up at her. ‘Shall I cook something?’

  He nodded, his face serious and thoughtful. ‘Sure. Why not? I’m ravenous.’

  ‘Seafood risotto? I have enough for two.’

  ‘Great.’

  He felt slightly ridiculous. They were talking like polite strangers. But when she began to cook, he felt the old warmth creep through him. Together they dunked the shellfish in a basin of cold water to disgorge the sand then scrubbed the shells with a stiff brush. Quick and adept, she knocked off the barnacles from the mussels and tugged off the beards then set him to wash everything in several changes of water.

  Happily she hummed as she sautéed some onion and herbs. Every move she made was fluid and graceful, the total economy of a skilled chef.

  While the stock was simmering, he poured out the wine and handed her a glass.

  ‘To pleasure,’ he said quietly.

  Her eyes were veiled. ‘Pleasure.’

  Determined to make the most of her, he kissed her moist lips. And went back for more. ‘You blew me away, again,’ he said thickly, his finger running down her delicate cheekbone.

  She blushed, a reaction he hadn’t expected. ‘It was this film,’ she mumbled.

  He blinked, perplexed. ‘Film?’

  ‘Uhuh. I watched it last night. I—I couldn’t sleep. There was this man and this woman and…well, it involved scarves,’ she finished lamely.

  He frowned. After a long and heavy silence he tilted up her chin. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. A suspicion formed in his mind.

  ‘Are you saying you’ve never done anything like that before?’ he asked, his throat taut.

  Her lashes fluttered. ‘I’ve never…been with a man, let alone tied him up! You’re my first lover,’ she confessed in a whisper, the blushes sweeping up her face in rosy waves. ‘You must have realised!’

  He couldn’t believe it. But he knew it was true. And her confession had changed everything.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ he jerked out harshly.

  Silver-grey, her eyes flicked up to his and then away again. The blushes were multiplying.

  ‘Because I wanted you,’ she husked.

  ‘I mean, why the scarves?’ he croaked, completely confused.

  ‘I wanted to be…’ She bit her lip and let her hair fall forward in that old, heart-tugging gesture that always got to him, every time. ‘To be good. Memorable. Because you’d made love to so many women…’ And she broke away to fiddle with the pans on the stove.

  Vido stood stock-still, her revelation hammering in his head. She’d been a virgin after all. No contraceptive pills, then. God help him. She could be pregnant with his child after all.

  In which case, they would have to marry. No kid of his would be brought up a bastard. But it would be born of lust and little more.

  Silently he cursed Anna then. For bewitching him. For being so innocent that she’d had no idea how far she’d pushed him till it was too late.

  Anger gripped him. He ached to love and to be loved. To create the miracle of a child with a woman he adored. Yet it looked as if he might be heading for one of the worst situations he could imagine: a marriage without love.

  And yet…he studied her subdued figure as she sliced scallops and added them to the rice. Hell. His brain was all over the place. She seemed terribly vulnerable, her face set in anx
ious lines, her fingers trembling.

  A profound emotion coursed through him. Tenderness, affection, yearning. His heart went out to her. Despite everything, he had to comfort her. He went over and drew her into his embrace.

  ‘Oh, Vido!’ she whispered helplessly into his neck. ‘You must think I’m an awful Jezebel. I won’t do it again—’

  Helpless to resist, his mouth crushed down on hers. ‘Oh, yes, you will!’ he muttered and felt a wild delight when her eyes lit up and she smiled at him as if he’d made her deliriously happy.

  What was happening to him? His feelings were bewildering in the way they chopped and changed. As he stroked her glossy hair, he tried to get his thoughts clarified.

  Despite everything, he cared about her. Anna was more innocent than he’d imagined. She hadn’t known what she was doing when she’d teased him like a practised wanton.

  And perhaps misery, and the honest belief that he’d betrayed her in the most despicable way, had driven her spite in the past. Gossip at school and her own poor self-regard had made her believe that he couldn’t possibly have been interested in her.

  The consequence was that she had accepted what others had claimed—that he was after her money. After being brutalised for so many years by people making fun of her, that must have been a terrible blow to her esteem. Hence her act of spite.

  Maybe she wasn’t perfect, but who was? Holding her like this, he felt more passion for her than he could handle. She made his emotions hurtle around as if they belonged to an adolescent boy.

  It dawned on him that if she was pregnant then perhaps he could learn to love her. To make some kind of life for their kid—should there be one. He should at least try. His vendetta must end.

  He kissed her again. His heart was thumping hard. By committing himself to Anna he could end up getting hurt. But he had no choice. He couldn’t take the risk that—if she did give birth to their child—she and that evil old man Willoughby would bring up the kiddie. He might not get a look in on his own flesh and blood. That was unthinkable.