She’d never known such all-encompassing burning pleasure existed. No longer capable of fighting, she obeyed her body’s demands. Throwing her head back, Gabriella pressed her hands to the headboard and rode him with soft cries she could no more control than she could control the throbbing, fizzing heat building and building inside her, and when her climax exploded, she could no more stop herself from grabbing the back of Tommaso’s head and holding him tightly than she could stop the waves of ecstasy from thrashing through her.
The waves were still rippling when his fingers bit into her flesh, his cheek pressed tight against her breasts, and with a throaty groan, she felt the heat of his orgasm burrow deep between her legs.
The thrills from Tommaso’s climax were giving no sign of abating. Not while he was still sheathed so tightly inside her.
God help him, he wanted to stop time and just stay like this. Right here. With Gabriella. With her hands burrowed in his hair and her heart pounding beneath his ear. The only thing that could make this moment more perfect would be if they were fully skin-to-skin.
He could hear the shallowness of her breaths. To imagine that just a day ago he could have stopped her from ever taking another breath made his chest tighten inexorably.
It felt like forever had passed before he could gather himself together and pull his head back.
Her eyes opened. What he found in them made his chest even tighter. Swimming in the dark chocolate brown was fear...but not the same fear as when he’d aimed the gun at her. This was a fear that made his heart thump and his lips suddenly ache to kiss away.
She blinked slowly. When her stare fused back to his, the fear had been shuttered away. All emotion had.
Why he captured a lock of her hair and gently ran his fingers down its length instead of shuttering his own emotions away, he would never know. “You must be hungry.” She hadn’t eaten a thing that day.
She bit into her bottom lip and gave a small nod.
Twisting the lock of hair around his finger, he wondered how she could look even more beautiful now than when he’d passed her the glass of champagne. The urge to crush his mouth to hers was stronger than it had ever been.
“Go and shower. I’ll have food brought up for us.”
Another small nod, and then she lifted herself carefully – reluctantly? – off him.
It was with great unwillingness that Gabriella stepped out of the shower. Standing beneath the waterfall, washing her hair and body in toiletries that could have come from her own bathroom, she could close her eyes and pretend that she was home. Wrapped in a large, soft, fluffy towel, she gazed at the puddle of stained white lace and taffeta lying on the bathroom floor. If she had the energy, she’d kick it. She hoped it was incinerated. No joy could come to anyone who wore even a scrap of it.
The last time she’d felt this drained had been the day after her mother died. The ache in her heart, though different, was reminiscent of that day, too, the pain in it like a bruise.
She’d expected the Espositos’ fury and loathing. After all, they wanted her dead. What she hadn’t anticipated was how much it would hurt.
In the years before she’d known the truth, when her infatuation with Tommaso had been at its peak, she’d fantasised about marrying him every single night. In Gabriella’s fantasies, Lorenzo, the only father she’d known, had walked her down the aisle, Siena, the closest thing to a sister she’d ever had, her chief bridesmaid.
Once the truth had been revealed, she’d never experienced another pang of love for Lorenzo, but Siena… Trying to stop herself from loving her had been nearly as hard as killing her longing for Tommaso. And just as impossible.
“They’re all evil,” her mother had told her. “The apple never falls far from the tree – never forget that, Gabba.”
How many hours had she spent over the years agonising whether her mother was right in this? Weeks’ worth, she supposed. Hundreds of hours agonising whether her best friendand the sole object of her desire could be anything like their murderous father, only to watch them glide into the shadowed parts of Lorenzo’s empire without a second thought. The apples had willingly glued themselves to the tree’s trunk.
Siena, whom she’d never been able to stop herself from loving, wouldn’t have shown Gabriella mercy. Siena would have shot her dead in a heartbeat. If Tommaso gave the go-ahead, Siena would be first in line to kill her.
He wouldn’t do that, she reminded herself, a tendril of their spent desire pulsing through her and diving into her heart to remember how tightly he’d held her and pressed his cheek to her breasts when he’d come...and in the aftermath.
She felt a sudden urge to scream at her own stupidity. As if she could predict what Tommaso would or wouldn’t do! He hadn’t spared her life; he’d taken it, and it didn’t matter how many orgasms he gave her, she must never, ever, ever allow herself to forget that, and as she screamed all this in her head, she noticed a new robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
The beats of her heart accelerated.
Where Tommaso’s robe was thin and dark grey, the new one was a dusky pink and looked even softer and fluffier than the towel currently wrapped around her. It didn’t look in the least bit sexy. It looked warm.
Chapter Seven
When Gabriella left the bathroom,she experienced a pang of relief to find the bedroom empty of Tommaso. At least, she told herself it was relief.
Tightening the new robe, which, falling to her ankles, was every bit as warm and cosy as it looked, she gazed out of the nearest window. Night had fallen. From her vantage point, she could see the distant glittering lights of yachts at sail and rest in the Bay of Naples, and for a moment allowed herself the luxury of imagining stowing away on one of those yachts and fleeing.
She wasn’t fool enough to believe the opportunity would arise, a thought reinforced a moment later when Katya came through the door with a tray of food.
“Where’s Tommaso?” Gabriella asked, thinking of how he’d said he would order food forus.
