The Platinum Collection. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
shifted his hips, his entire attention nailed to her flushed and expressive face so that he could register the smallest wince she might make. Instead Lizzie smiled up at him with a look of wonderment that was uniquely soothing to his momentarily threatened male ego.
Lizzie closed her eyes again, mortified at the fuss she had made, the lengths she had had to go to to persuade him to continue. She had always believed that a man found it hard to stop in the middle of sex, so the fact that he had offered to withdraw altogether did not strike her as a compliment. But she had wanted to know, had wanted so badly to know what all the fuss was about.
He moved against her and tingling, driving sensation awakened in her pelvis again. She relaxed a little. The slow, almost provocative thrusts became enticing and she relaxed completely, indeed began to arch up to greet him with an enthusiasm she had never expected to feel. His skilled acceleration delivered sensation like nothing she had ever experienced and her excitement soared to delirious heights that climbed and climbed until she reached a peak and soared effortlessly over it and then down and down into the cocoon of lethargy and satiation, exhaustion pulling at her every sense.
Cesare settled her back down on the pillows and smoothed her tangled hair off her damp brow. His hand trembled a little because he was struggling to do two opposing things: firstly treat Lizzie like the bride she was and, secondly, suppress the anger tearing at him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me I’d be your first lover?’ he demanded in a roughened undertone.
His tone, his exasperation, cut through Lizzie in her sensitive state like the sudden painful slice of a knife and she sat up abruptly, clutching the sheet to her chest. ‘I didn’t see that it was anything to do with you.’
‘In other words, you chose to deliberately conceal it,’ he condemned, leaping out of bed in one lithe, powerful movement. ‘How the hell could you still be a virgin when you were once engaged?’
‘Don’t you dare raise your voice to me, Cesare Sabatino!’ Lizzie yelled back at him furiously, but she was trembling with an innate fear she could not have expressed at that moment. ‘As for why I was still a virgin, that’s private.’
‘You’re married to me now, cara. I don’t think it’s unreasonable of me to expect an answer to something so basic.’
‘When you have the right to ask me private questions, I’ll let you know,’ Lizzie slung back flatly, snaking out of the far side of the bed to avoid him and yanking the sheet free of the mattress with a violent jerk to wrap it round her body. ‘Now, I’m going for a bath.’
‘Lizzie...’ Cesare ground out in frustration to her rigid back as she reached for the door of the en suite.
‘I’m not feeling nice, wifely or the slightest bit chatty right now, so please excuse me,’ Lizzie breathed icily and stepped into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her within seconds.
Lizzie filled the glorious antique bath to the brim, filled it with bubbles and lowered her body into the warm water. Angry, Cesare could be incredibly intimidating, towering over her, dark eyes glowing with hostility in his lean dark face. She couldn’t help that her first reaction to an angry man was to run to the nearest place of safety. Her mother’s violent second husband had taught her to get herself and Chrissie out of harm’s way fast.
But Lizzie refused to be intimidated by Cesare, whom she sensed would never be violent. What did he have to be so angry about? Hadn’t their lovemaking been good for him? It had certainly been good for her, apart from the hiccup as such in the middle when she had discovered that her first experience of intimacy could actually be painful. Ironically she was more hurt by Cesare’s withdrawal and grim mood in the aftermath, which had made her feel—all over again—inadequate. Why couldn’t he have simply let the subject go? Had he no sensitivity? Couldn’t he see that she didn’t want to talk about it?
Cesare paced the bedroom in fierce frustration. Why hadn’t she warned him? Had she been embarrassed about being untouched? He recalled the blushing and gritted his teeth, acknowledging that he was totally unfit to deal with sexual innocence when he had failed to recognise it even though it was right there in front of him. He had screwed up, screwed up even worse when he sprang an immediate interrogation on her.
This was not how he had pictured their marriage kicking off. She was all emotional now, very probably weeping in the bath and regretting their new agreement while wishing she had never laid eyes on him. And yet the sex had been amazing...so amazing he couldn’t wait to repeat it. Galvanised into motion by that shameless motivation, Cesare threw on a disreputable pair of jeans and padded downstairs, pondering possibilities to redeem himself in his offended bride’s eyes. Before he even got that far he heard the distant howls of Archie marooned in an outside kennel and he grinned at the sound. He was a very clever man and he would turn the wedding-night breakdown back into a honeymoon regardless of what sacrifices it demanded of him!
Archie broke off his cries mid-howl and pranced towards him on three little legs. Archie was not particularly attached to Cesare but he recognised him as a potential lead to his mistress...
ARCHIE WHIMPERED OUTSIDE the bathroom door.
‘You know you can do better than that,’ Cesare told him, tossing him a fragment of chicken from one of the plates on the table by the bed.
For a three-legged dog, Archie could move fast and he caught the scrap in mid-air.
‘Now...you have a mission,’ Cesare reminded the scruffy little animal. ‘You get her out of the bathroom.’
Archie hovered by the door, tried to push it but the balloon collar round his neck got in the way. Sitting back on his haunches, Archie loosed a sad howl that would not have shamed a banshee. Cesare threw him another piece of succulent chicken in reward. Archie gave a grand performance.
Lizzie woke up feeling cold, water sloshing noisily around her as she sat up wide-eyed. Archie was howling at the door...or had that just been a dream? Clambering hastily out of the bath, she snatched up a fleecy towel and wrapped herself in it, just as Archie howled again. Glancing at the watch on the vanity to see how long she had slept, she was taken aback to realise that a couple of hours had passed and that it was now almost one in the morning. Depressing the lock, she opened the door in haste.
‘Oh, pet, I forgot about you! Have you been lonely?’ Lizzie asked, squatting down to the little dog’s level.
‘Want some supper?’ Cesare asked lazily from the bed on which he reclined.
Small bosom swelling at that insouciant tone, Lizzie was about to tell him in no short order what he could do with supper and then her tummy growled and she registered in surprise that she was actually very hungry. Of course, she hadn’t eaten very much at dinner...
Straightening, she looped her damp hair back behind her ear and focused on Cesare’s lean, darkly devastating face, clashing with the banked-down glitter of his stunning eyes. ‘You still want answers, don’t you?’
‘I’d be a liar if I said otherwise,’ he admitted, sprawling back with his hands linked behind his head, a position which only threw into prominence the muscular torso and flat ribbed stomach beneath his black T-shirt.
Lizzie breathed in slowly, belatedly registering the table of snacks by the bed and the candles that must have been relit while she slept. A surprising sense of calm after the storm enclosed her. The worst had already happened, hadn’t it? What did she have to fear now? Not marriage, not sex, she decided, her chin coming up. Cesare had...briefly...scared her but that wasn’t his fault. No, that fault could be laid at the door of her late mother’s misjudgement of men and a stepfather who had given Lizzie nightmares long after he had passed out of her life.
‘You know, when you got so angry, you scared me,’ she told him baldly. ‘My mother was married to a man who beat her up when he got angry.’
Cesare sprang off the bed, a frown pleating his ebony brows.