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That was easy to answer. She’d broken up with Daniel a week before leaving Catarno. It had been the beginning of the worst week of her life, and ever since, she’d avoided men like the plague. But even before their break-up, it hadn’t been a passionate relationship. They’d fallen in love slowly and safely, which had only made his betrayal worse. He’d been her friend first, and then he’d used her for financial gain.
This was all overpowering, and, to Amelia’s surprise, she found she liked the way it felt to be overcome by attraction, even when it was simultaneously terrifying.
What would happen if she gave into temptation? If she lifted up onto the tips of her toes—even though she was quite tall, he was taller still, by several inches—and kissed him? Would he be shocked? Or was he as attracted to her as she was to him?
Somewhere, far away from Amelia and the fantasy world she’d begun to inhabit, she was aware of a soft rumbling sound, a feeling that made her legs vibrate a little beneath her. Or was that yet another indication of her attraction to this man?
His eyes flared, as if she’d spoken the thought aloud, and then he lifted a hand, large and capable, fingers dark with short nails, and took hold of her face. Not gently, not even sensually. This was a touch of possession and curiosity, as though he had every right, and she was reminded of how he’d looked at her on the deck, the anger in his eyes, and she wondered if that same emotion was driving his touch now.
But then he expelled a long, slow breath, warm against her temples, and his gaze narrowed as if he was confused. ‘Your eyes are so different.’
She blinked, not understanding. ‘From what?’
Something must have happened to cause the water beneath them to roll—perhaps another large boat departing the marina—because she lost her balance a little, and it took Benedetto’s hand reaching out to steady her. It was quickly done, a clinical touch at first, but then with another, faster, rougher breath, he shifted the hand from her arm to her hip, then around her back, pressing her forward with the same easy command as he’d touched her face seconds earlier.
‘I—Ben—’ she said, frowning, because she had no idea what to say. Her first instinct had been to protest his overfamiliarity, because it was completely inappropriate.
But that was the response of Princess Amelia Moretti, who always had to be conscious of her reputation, and how she was perceived by the public. There was no such requirement here. But still, how could she trust him not to betray her if she gave into this? How could she ever trust anyone? The saving grace was that he didn’t know who she was. To him, she was just a photographer, not a princess with a small fortune at her fingertips.
His hand at her back moved lower, to the dip above her bottom, and his fingers were splayed wide, moving slowly, hypnotically, seductively, so she struggled to make sense of anything.
‘What do you want?’ he asked, rough, deep.
Amelia was totally swept away, and yet there was a small part of her brain capable of rational thought and in it she marvelled at this sudden strange turn of events. She’d never been the kind of woman to go for strong-man types, yet here she was, desperate to strip naked and make love to a man who was really more beast than anything else.
‘I—shouldn’t—’
His smile was mocking. God, he was insufferable. ‘You shouldn’t?’ he prompted, and now when he stepped forward, he pulled her with him, or rather shifted her, so her back pressed against the wall of the corridor, and his body formed an equally hard frame, one hand pressed to the wall beside her head, the other still on her face. His knee, somehow, had come between her legs, and she thanked heaven for that because without the support she wasn’t sure she could stand upright. And yet, she found herself dying to press lower against him, to rub her sex against his skin, and her cheeks flushed a deep pink at the very X-rated direction of her thoughts.
‘We shouldn’t,’ she said, but then her hand lifted, bunched in his shirt, her eyes hooked to his, begging, willing him to kiss her. Full lips parted on a sigh, a hope, and then, when he didn’t move, she leaned forward a little, inviting him more obviously.
‘You say we shouldn’t with your mouth...’ his eyes fell to that part of her body ‘...and yet your body is suggesting you want something else entirely.’
He was right. She was sending mixed messages. But that wasn’t Amelia’s fault. Her brain was completely scrambled.
‘Saying we shouldn’t doesn’t mean I don’t want to,’ she said honestly, a moment later, the confession whispered. ‘Does that make sense?’
‘You have no idea how much sense,’ he admitted darkly, eyes flashing to hers as he moved forward, and her heart skipped a beat as she waited to be kissed. But he didn’t take her mouth. Instead, it was Amelia who pushed up, heat in her veins, desperation firing through her as she fused her mouth to his and felt as though a thousand lightning bolts were striking through her soul.
She hadn’t known what to expect...but it wasn’t this. Her whole body rejoiced at the contact, her mouth exploring his with passionate hunger and need, her hands roaming his body possessively, from his arms to his shoulders to his nape, tangling in the hair there, so her breasts were crushed to his chest. He made a noise low in his throat and Amelia felt as though she might almost lose consciousness. It was a kiss that managed to throw everything from her mind, all thought and knowledge dissipated in the face of such an onslaught of white-hot passion, and Amelia could not have cared less.
CHAPTER TWO
THIS HAD NOT been a part of the plan. Not exactly. He’d known he would need to distract her, as the boat left the marina, and he hadn’t worked out how. Their clear mutual attraction had caught him off guard. Capitalising on it was an easy solution, but it was more than that. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted all of her, and he was totally blindsided by that.
Hell, this was his best friend’s younger sister. A woman he despised, a spoilt, selfish brat he’d been begged to bring home with her tail between her legs. At no point had he considered seducing her, or being seduced by her, so what the hell was happening?
Just because something shouldn’t happen it doesn’t mean you don’t want it to.
Damn straight.
But Benedetto was no inexperienced teenager. He was a man well into his thirties, who’d lived a full life in all aspects, and had plenty of relationships to have learned from. He didn’t need to slake his libido with Princess Amelia. There were dozens of women he could call on for that, if and when he decided he was in the mood. So what the hell was he doing? There were other ways to distract her; he didn’t need to do this—and yet he couldn’t stop.
She moaned again, this time louder, and rolled her hips, her body imploring him to do something more than just taste her, and before he realised what he was doing, his hands moved roughly, impatient now for what he’d wanted the moment she’d strolled onto the boat, a picture of casual summer beauty. He’d seen enough photographs of Amelia, and it had never occurred to him to be attracted to her. She was in every way off limits to him.
But he’d never actually met her.
And despite the experience that should have inured him to this kind of attraction, it had also taught him to respect the laws of chemistry. Sometimes, you just couldn’t fight it.
