inside her brain, the primitive rhythm of her blood drowning out all other sound, even that of her own thoughts.
Pietroâs hands were in her hair, tugging the covered band that bound her ponytail down and away, sending her burnished locks tumbling about her shoulders where long, powerful fingers tangled in the silky fall, twisting tight to hold her prisoner, keeping her head exactly where he wanted it. He angled it so that he could indulge his sensual hunger to the full.
It had been too long since she had felt like this. Too long since she had known this heated, sensual connection, this rush of pleasure through her blood, flooding every nerve. Too long since she had felt this hunger uncoil in the pit of her stomach.
âToo long,â she sighed on another much-needed intake of breath, and found that her words were being echoed by Pietroâs voice, thick with passion, roughened by need.
âFar, far too long,â he agreed, hands tightening in her hair, lips coming back to take hers with even more force of passion.
She was being moved, pushed, half-walked, half-carried backwards across the room until her spine hit the wall, Pietroâs body crushing her against it. With her head falling back against the hard support, he could find her mouth with even more force, even more passion, and he took full advantage of that fact, plundering her lips with renewed intensity. Marina went with him, yielding one moment by giving him the access he sought, the next kissing him back, tongues tangling together in the dance of passion.
They had forgotten, or were oblivious to, where they were. Awareness of the lawyerâs office, the formal boardroom-table and chairs, the rain-lashed windows, faded totally under the force of need that had them in its grip. It was only when a soft, polite tap at the doorâone that had to be repeated before it registered, causing them to pauseâbrought them reluctantly, unsteadily, back to reality.
â Principe ⦠Signor DâInzeo?â
Matteo Rinaldi would only risk interrupting his important client if he really had to, Marina recognised dazedly, her impression reinforced by the way Pietroâs head whipped round. He directed a ferocious question in angry Italian at the man on the other side of the door. The following exchange was too fast, too furious for her to catch it, and the truth was that she was incapable of thinking clearly enough for her limited knowledge of their language to be helpful in following it.
Her head was spinning, her thoughts whirling. But it was not just the abrupt interruption of their passion, the shocking ending to Pietroâs kisses, the wrenching of his mouth away from hers that had her reeling so hard shecould only be grateful that the wall was at her back to give her support. She feared that she might actually fall to the floor. What was she doing? Had she taken total leave of all her senses to let this happen? Not just let it but actually indulge it, share in it, encourage Pietroâs actions with her own heated and mindless response.
Mindless, indeed! And totally, naively stupid.
âStupid, stupid, stupid!â she berated herself in a furious whisper under cover of the staccato argument in Italian that was still going on over her head.
Hadnât she known what it would be like? Shouldnât she have already guessed that this was how Pietro operated, the way he won peopleâwomenâround to his way of thinking?
But she did know, and that was the appalling thing. She had first-hand experience of just how his seductive technique could be used to scramble a womanâs brain, reduce her to a mindless mass of quivering jellyâa mindless mass of quivering, sexually molten jelly totally at his mercy. Wasnât that the way he had dealt with her own fears that they were rushing into marriage, that they didnât know each other well enough?
He had laughed at her concern and then, when she had persisted in her
Pietroâs hands were in her hair, tugging the covered band that bound her ponytail down and away, sending her burnished locks tumbling about her shoulders where long, powerful fingers tangled in the silky fall, twisting tight to hold her prisoner, keeping her head exactly where he wanted it. He angled it so that he could indulge his sensual hunger to the full.
It had been too long since she had felt like this. Too long since she had known this heated, sensual connection, this rush of pleasure through her blood, flooding every nerve. Too long since she had felt this hunger uncoil in the pit of her stomach.
âToo long,â she sighed on another much-needed intake of breath, and found that her words were being echoed by Pietroâs voice, thick with passion, roughened by need.
âFar, far too long,â he agreed, hands tightening in her hair, lips coming back to take hers with even more force of passion.
She was being moved, pushed, half-walked, half-carried backwards across the room until her spine hit the wall, Pietroâs body crushing her against it. With her head falling back against the hard support, he could find her mouth with even more force, even more passion, and he took full advantage of that fact, plundering her lips with renewed intensity. Marina went with him, yielding one moment by giving him the access he sought, the next kissing him back, tongues tangling together in the dance of passion.
They had forgotten, or were oblivious to, where they were. Awareness of the lawyerâs office, the formal boardroom-table and chairs, the rain-lashed windows, faded totally under the force of need that had them in its grip. It was only when a soft, polite tap at the doorâone that had to be repeated before it registered, causing them to pauseâbrought them reluctantly, unsteadily, back to reality.
â Principe ⦠Signor DâInzeo?â
Matteo Rinaldi would only risk interrupting his important client if he really had to, Marina recognised dazedly, her impression reinforced by the way Pietroâs head whipped round. He directed a ferocious question in angry Italian at the man on the other side of the door. The following exchange was too fast, too furious for her to catch it, and the truth was that she was incapable of thinking clearly enough for her limited knowledge of their language to be helpful in following it.
Her head was spinning, her thoughts whirling. But it was not just the abrupt interruption of their passion, the shocking ending to Pietroâs kisses, the wrenching of his mouth away from hers that had her reeling so hard shecould only be grateful that the wall was at her back to give her support. She feared that she might actually fall to the floor. What was she doing? Had she taken total leave of all her senses to let this happen? Not just let it but actually indulge it, share in it, encourage Pietroâs actions with her own heated and mindless response.
Mindless, indeed! And totally, naively stupid.
âStupid, stupid, stupid!â she berated herself in a furious whisper under cover of the staccato argument in Italian that was still going on over her head.
Hadnât she known what it would be like? Shouldnât she have already guessed that this was how Pietro operated, the way he won peopleâwomenâround to his way of thinking?
But she did know, and that was the appalling thing. She had first-hand experience of just how his seductive technique could be used to scramble a womanâs brain, reduce her to a mindless mass of quivering jellyâa mindless mass of quivering, sexually molten jelly totally at his mercy. Wasnât that the way he had dealt with her own fears that they were rushing into marriage, that they didnât know each other well enough?
He had laughed at her concern and then, when she had persisted in her
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