A Clash With Cannavaro

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Authors: Elizabeth Power
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Women
that subtle spice and from the thrilling latent strength lurking beneath the sophisticated, civilised exterior.
    ‘You had my answer over the phone a few days ago. Now let me go!’
    ‘When your pulse is throbbing beneath my fingers like an Apache drumbeat? And your eyes, cara mia ... Those lovely eyes that spoke volumes to mine that night they clashed across that ballroom are betraying you with their sultriness and telling me that biologically we were meant to be lovers, no matter how much we would both like to deny it and wish that it could be different.’
    She could have moved, Lauren thought. She could have pulled back from him and he would have let her. But his eyes and his voice were working on her senses like some hypnotic drug, so that she felt paralysed with wanting as his long fingers tugged gently at the belt of her robe.
    The silky fabric gave and fell away, leaving her parted robe revealing minuscule purple briefs and the full inner curves of her heavy breasts above her tiny waist.
    ‘You should have known better than to test my resistance, cara .’ His voice was like a caressing purr coming from deep in his chest. ‘Or your own.’
    She hadn’t wanted it to happen. But, as his arm slipped around her waist and his mouth came down over hers, she was pressing her nakedness against his fully clothed body with every last drop of her raging need.
    She hated the man! Why then was she letting him do this to her? she tried reasoning wildly.
    The rasp of his jaw against hers was an exciting demand, like the burning heat of him through the fine silk shirt and the hard excitement of his strong and hardening body.
    All she knew was that she wanted this! Wanted him! Here and now! No matter how much more shame and degradation would follow after.
    When he pushed back her robe and his hand palmed the hard tip of one begging breast she could do nothing but arch into his mind-blowing caress.
    ‘You are so beautiful,’ he said thickly, with his teeth softly grazing her ear, then moving down the soft line of her jaw to her responsive neck and the sensitised juncture of her shoulder. But when he tilted her back against his arm and took the crest of her other breast into his mouth, Lauren gave a shuddering gasp of pure pleasure.
    ‘I hate you.’ It was an agonised little sound, but it was so important that he should know that.
    He stopped suckling, turning his head against the upper swell of her breast. ‘And that makes this perfectly acceptable?’
    Did it?
    No, it doesn’t! her mind shrieked at her. It’s self-gratifying! Totally insane! And immoral!
    Her voice, croaky and shaking, didn’t sound like hers at all, as somehow she managed to say, ‘Nothing I do with you could ever be acceptable.’
    ‘And it is that that makes it so exciting, is it not, mia bella ? The fact that we both want this against our better judgement.’
    ‘I—don’t—want—you.’ She could scarcely get the statement past her lips as each word came out punctuated with the effort it took.
    Remarkably, Emiliano stood up and drew back.
    ‘No,’ he agreed, but the husky sound was tinged with mockery.
    From his drawn-down lashes Lauren knew he was noting the rosy swollen aureoles of her breasts, and quickly she pulled her robe together, belting it tightly. His face, though, was flushed, she noticed, and she didn’t even need to look at him to know how hard he was. She had felt his arousal when he had ground his hips against hers and the thought of how she was responsible for that produced an almost excruciating ache between her thighs.
    ‘OK, so I’m human. But don’t feel so smug. You’re rich and you’re powerful and you aren’t too bad-looking either. Isn’t that an irresistible combination for any woman? As you said in London, being ensnared by someone doesn’t mean you have to like them. And a woman can take as much as a man without it being expected to mean anything beyond the purely physical these days.’
    A twisted sort of

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