The Italian's Bedroom Deal (13 page)

He could easily break her hold on his hands but he didn’t, allowing her the fantasy that she was actually in control. His mouth touched the pulse at the base of her throat that was beating rapidly. “Marry me and I’ll make love to you.”

Clarissa moaned and shook her head. “Is that was this is all about?” she demanded, leaning back but that only gave his mouth access to her chest and he took full advantage of that position, especially since her hands were occupied with his own hands and keeping them at bay. “I won’t marry you.”

“Then I won’t make love with you,” he said and his lips nuzzled the cleft between her breasts, then moved across to the gentle swell of her left breast. “It’s your decision.”

Clarissa whimpered but her body moved toward his mouth, her nipple already hard and aching. “That’s not fair,” she almost screamed. She wanted to hit him but he was now holding her wrists instead of the other way around. She was powerless to do anything about it though. “You’ve had sex with other women. I’m not any different. Just treat me like you treated them.”

“You’re not like the other women, Clarissa,” he explained softly and his lips moved across to the other breast, teasing in the same manner. “You’re going to be my wife and I won’t disrespect you by making love to you before we are wed.”

“I’m not!” she groaned, freeing her hands so she could hold his head. “I’m just like those other women with needs and desires. A desire you’re perpetually igniting and not doing it in a very nice way,” she pointed out. She wasn’t sure if she was going to pull his head closer or keep him away. “I won’t do it, Max. And you’re not playing fair. What would you do with a woman who did this to you?”

She pulled out of his arms and she was grateful that he let her go. With his strength, he could have easily held her in his arms and when his mouth was kissing her, she couldn’t dredge up the will power to resist him. She craved his touch too much.

Clarissa practically shot out of the car and walked hurriedly into her cottage. Tossing her purse onto the sofa, she turned to confront Max who, she knew from experience, would follow her in.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she squared her shoulders, prepared to do battle. When he walked through the door, she glared at him. “Max, I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Max’s only response was to smile as he continued to walk toward her.

Clarissa saw the intent in his eyes and tried to steel herself against it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. She wanted him too much. “Max, please don’t come any closer,” she called out, holding up her hand in front of her. She moved so that the ottoman was between their bodies, hoping it would provide the protection against his hands and mouth that she needed.

It didn’t. He simply reached out and lifted her across the obstacle so she was standing close to him.

Looking down into her soft, blue eyes, his hands caressed her waist, her back, her ribs, but nowhere else. “Marry me. We can spend the whole day in bed, satisfying our aching bodies,” he replied a moment before his hands pulled her gently against him and into his arms. He gave her plenty of time to stop him but she couldn’t resist. “I can show you things you’ve never dreamed of, Clarissa,” he whispered in her ear before he nibbled on it. “You’ll be crying with the pleasure we can give each other. Just think of it.”

She did. Dammit, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. When his mouth found that spot on her neck, the one that made her shiver with delight, she pressed closer to him, her hands reaching up and inside his jacket, eager to touch him and feel the muscles flex underneath her fingers. “I can’t,” she sighed.

“You can.”

“No.”

He pulled away and Clarissa knew that the torment was over for the night. She wasn’t sure if she was happy or disappointed.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Emma Bernstein has invited us to dinner at her house.”

Clarissa looked at his tie, unable to look at his face. She was afraid she might become too angry. The sexual frustration was coursing through her body and she needed some sort of outlet. Anger seemed inappropriate, but she wouldn’t rule it out at this point. “No, she’s invited you. I’m just along for the ride,” she replied, knowing that not many people invited her to functions. She was the mousy, shy daughter who didn’t really have any connections so she wasn’t overly valuable to the movers and shakers of the world.

“Not true, cara,” he said and ran a finger down her cheek. “Your name was specifically mentioned. You see,” he started to say as he walked to the door, “people are starting to recognize that we’re together. You’re the only one that won’t accept the inevitable. Once you’ve reached the conclusion everyone else has, we can move to the next step.”

“That’s blackmail,” she said glaring at him, her hands fisted by her sides.

He smiled as he pulled the door to her cottage closed. “I’ll use whatever means possible to get you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was angry or terrified. She should be angry, she told herself. She should be livid that he was using foul means to get what he wanted. But all she wanted to do was to throw herself back into his arms and beg him to make love to her. Running to the cottage door, she pulled it open. She watched for a moment as the night enveloped his tall, lithe body. “You’re cheating,” she yelled at his retreating back.

“So sue me,” he laughed. He had the last word since he pulled the door of the limousine shut behind him, leaving her to fume in furious silence.

The following week, Clarissa buried herself in her work. The translations were coming along well and she was fascinated by the story she was currently working on. Unfortunately, her nights were taken up with her frustrations with Max. After being thoroughly kissed and completely aroused, she told him each night that she wouldn’t see him anymore. But the next day, she would eagerly dress, loving the excitement she felt when she was with him. It wasn’t just the kissing and touching though. Max stimulated her mentally and intellectually. She had to work hard to keep up with him and was thrilled by their conversations. Before meeting Max, she would read the news each morning simply to keep up with current events. With Max in her life now, she read each article, evaluating the events differently, analyzing the politics and the financials news for ways that it could be used in business. It was so much more interesting since she could anticipate probable business activities. Discussing her insights with Max was thrilling.

There were the evenings to get through, though. His touches during whatever event they were attending were bad enough. He’d touch her arm, her shoulder, her back casually but each touch ignited a fire inside her stomach, and lower, that she was having a terrible time dealing with. And each night, he’d walk into her cottage, take her into his arms and kiss her until she was senseless. They usually ended up on the sofa in her cottage and the night would end with her begging him to finish it. He would then pull away and ask her to marry him once again. She continued to argue that an affair was good enough but he was adamant.

The evening of the fourth week, she caved. They’d just come back from a dinner party and Clarissa had rushed out of the limousine, desperate to avoid his kisses. “I’ll make coffee,” she said, hurrying into the kitchen to avoid him. She’d tried rushing into the cottage and closing the door, but Max was too fast. He anticipated her every move, countering it with one of his own. She felt as if she were some sort of butterfly that was caught in a silken trap. She wouldn’t even look into Max’s gaze, knowing that he had the ability to hypnotize her with the promises that were in those eyes, promises he refused to satisfy.

As always, he followed at a slower pace, smiling to himself as he watched her rush away. As she measured coffee grounds, she felt his hands on her back and groaned. “Max, please not tonight. I can’t take it anymore.” Her hands dumped the coffee onto the counter in frustration., completely missing the coffee filter and dumping loose grounds all over the counter. Her fingers were shaking and her whole body was instantly alert.

“You look very pretty in this dress,” he said, fiddling with the ties that were hanging from her neck. “I like the view,” he continued, looking down at the swells of her breasts which were revealed by the deep V of her halter style bodice. “Very sexy.” His fingers reached around and one finger slowly traced the edge of the dress.

Clarissa leaned her head back, resting it against his broad shoulder. “Fine.”

His mouth found her ear lobe and he nibbled for a moment before saying, “Fine, what, cara?”

She shivered and pushed back against him, feeling his hard body and wishing she could touch it, feel it with her hands and make him do something about this terrible weakness in her belly. “I’ll marry you. Can we make love now?” she whimpered as his hand moved from the swell of her breast to her back. With all the skin showing, she had given him easy access to the spots that drove her crazy when he touched them.

Max stilled. Spinning her around, he lifted her up onto the counter so she was more at eye level with him. “Say it again,” he demanded, pulling her knees apart and stepping between them. He pulled her closer to him, his hands on her bottom as he held her against his rigid body.

Clarissa gasped, surprised by this new position and a little nervous by the intensity in his eyes. “I’ll marry you,” she said softly.

The triumph in his eyes would have made her angry if he hadn’t bent to claim her lips once again. She moaned as he deepened the kiss, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket with this kiss. It was unlike anything he’d ever given her before. It was absolute possession and she wished she wasn’t so turned on by it.

“Choose a dress, Clarissa. We’ll be married next weekend.”

“So soon?” she asked, her mind instantly clearing and her eyes growing wide at his impatience.

He pulled back slightly but kept her close, his hands rubbing against the outside of her legs. “Are you serious? First of all, I’m not giving you a chance to change your mind,” he replied, lifting her off the counter and gently setting her on her feet. He took her hand and walked to the front door. “Secondly, I have a need to make love to you that goes beyond anything I’ve ever experienced with another woman,” he explained. “I need you in my bed by next Saturday night. The plane will pick you up on Friday. I’ll have a team of seamstresses available to you starting tomorrow morning to make your dress. Do you want to be married here or in Sicily?” he asked, his mind already ticking off the details he’d have to rearrange. He didn’t mind though. Looking down at this stubborn, beautiful woman, all he cared about was getting her into his bed as quickly as possible. And that demanded marriage as quickly as possible.

“Max, we can’t be married next week. What will people think? They’ll assume you got me pregnant,” she answered her own question.

His eyes hardened and he shrugged his shoulder carelessly. “Do you care what others think? We’ll have a proper wedding with all of our friends and family. They can meet us wherever you’d like to be married but I don’t give a damn what they think. Let them make all the assumptions they want. You and I know the truth and that’s what matters.”

He was right. What did she care what people thought of her if she was finally going to experience making love with Max? If he wanted to be married, she didn’t care anymore. He’d broken down every one of her defenses and had a single goal in mind.

“Sicily,” she finally said, defeated. “And I don’t really care who we invite.”

Max gritted his teeth, not completely satisfied with her unconcern over their wedding. No matter, he thought. He’d hire a coordinator to take care of the details. All she needed to do was show up at the right time. He’d take care of the rest.

Now that he’d gotten her agreement, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he’d allow to get in the way.

Chapter 12

Exactly one week later, Clarissa stood outside the beautiful little village church she’d visited the previous month with Max. This time, she stood on the steps with her father as she nervously waited for Maria to finish walking down the aisle in front of her.

“Nervous?” her father asked softly.

Clarissa thought that was a silly question. She was shaking with her fear, uncertain if she was doing the right thing. She loved Max. She’d accepted that just a few hours earlier. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t come to that conclusion a long time ago but she never stopped to wonder why she’d never figured that little nugget out earlier. Perhaps it was because he’d kept her in a constant state of sexual arousal and she hadn’t been thinking clearly, but regardless, she was in love with the obnoxious, irritating man.

She hadn’t slept the previous night as her mind worked frantically, trying to figure out how she’d come to such an event when she’d always vowed she’d never marry a wealthy man for fear of enduring the trauma of a society marriage. Now, here she was, about to marry the wealthiest man in Europe.

She nodded her head in response to her father’s question, knowing she wouldn’t be able to speak.

Her father turned her so she was facing him. “Clarissa, listen to me,” he said gently, concern in his eyes. “I’ve been probably the worst father in history but I just wanted to say that I’m proud of you.” His eyes misted up slightly before he coughed them away. Turning back to face the church, he said, “Your mother would be proud of you as well,” he said gruffly. “You’re marrying a good man.”

Of all the things she’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. Her father didn’t do emotions, did he? As she looked up at him, she saw how he was trying to control his features and her heart softened slightly. She took a deep breath before replying, “Thank you.”