Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
DONATO LOOKED DOWN into stunning blue-grey eyes, grown huge and wary. He felt the doubt radiating from Ella, just as he felt the heat of her sexual arousal.
His body was taut, humming with need. He couldn’t quite believe the effort it took not to step closer and persuade her into surrender as he knew he could. The attraction dragging at his belly, arcing between them, was powerful.
But there’d been something about the way she’d mentioned her sister, on top of her talk of being forced, that held him back. He’d seen the quickly veiled hint of fragility in Ella’s expression.
He didn’t have her measure yet but one thing he knew. He needed Ella to come to him.
The moment of silence grew to two pulse beats, three, four, more. His nerves and his patience stretched. He forced himself to stand there unmoving, as if he wasn’t strung out.
Then, with what sounded like a muffled oath, Ella launched herself forward. She cannoned into him, soft and curvaceous, warm and delectably feminine. Automatically he grabbed her to him, catching her in a tight hold. Her arms looped over his shoulders, her hands burrowing up through his hair, pulling his head down.
He had a moment to register that fresh-as-a-garden-after-rain scent then their mouths collided and his brain shorted.
So good. She felt even better than he’d expected. And she tasted—
Donato plunged deep into her mouth, forcing her head back, swallowing her sigh of response. Ribbons of heat unfurled through him as he savoured Ella, so delicious, so right. Her soft lips, her demanding tongue, the way she melted into him even as she challenged him to give more. He angled his head, hauling her even closer, lost in a kiss that was so much more than he’d expected, despite his anticipation.
He couldn’t get enough. Her lush body cushioning his instant erection. Her hot, eager mouth that tasted of peach nectar. Her thigh, sliding restlessly against his leg as their tongues tangled and lips fused.
Donato grabbed her thigh and hauled it up, swallowing her gasp of shocked approval. There. He wanted her there. He bent his knees, angling his hips so he rubbed against the softest, most secret part of her.
To his delight Ella’s hands tightened against his scalp, not pushing him away but clutching as if she couldn’t get close enough.
Dimly he wondered what had happened to slow seduction. To years of expertise at pleasing a woman. To caution and taking things one step at a time.
With Ella there were no steps. There was just a headlong plunge into riotous need.
With his other hand he grabbed her backside, lifting her into him, and she purred her approval. That throaty sound incited, inviting more. She nipped his bottom lip and angled her head to taste him better and his head spun.
Yes! He’d known Ella wouldn’t be a shrinking violet. Not the way passion had sparked and simmered in her, a conflagration waiting to be ignited. Yet he hadn’t expected—
Thought died as she rolled her pelvis against him.
Hell! He was shaking all over. If he wasn’t careful he might drop her.
No, he couldn’t drop her. His hands were welded to her. But they might collapse together on the marble floor if his legs gave way. He was pretty sure he could still enjoy Ella, even with a concussion. In fact a concussion would be worth it to experience Ella coming apart around him.
But she might get hurt.
With a desperate effort he dragged his eyelids up. He couldn’t remember shutting his eyes. All he remembered was the sensual assault as she launched herself at him and his body going into meltdown.
Lips still locked with hers, Donato scanned the foyer, instantly discounting the stairs to the upper floor and the bedrooms. They’d never make it that far. At this rate he wasn’t sure they’d make it out of their clothes.
The sideboard. It sat between two doors, a collector’s piece of exquisite workmanship. Perfect.
Lifting Ella against him, he stumbled across the foyer. Her eyes snapped open, the blaze hitting like a punch to the solar plexus.
‘What?’ She tugged her head away and instantly Donato wanted her back, her mouth surrendering to his.
Then she must have felt the solid furniture behind her because understanding flickered in her eyes. Donato lifted her so she sat on the sideboard, then he stepped in, pushing her knees wide.
For the merest of moments there was stillness between them, a waiting awareness, a final chance to break apart. Then Ella’s eyes drifted shut as he lightly touched her breast. It was high and plump enough to fill his hand. Delectable. Just like her shuddering sigh of approval and the way she arched into his touch, eager for more.
Donato smiled grimly. She was so responsive. He wanted to tease and pleasure her, but he wasn’t sure he could manage anything like his usual finesse.
Then Ella’s hand closed over him and his vision blurred, his groin tightening. All the blood in his body rushed south. Need rocked him and dimly he wondered if he’d have time to get free of his trousers before he came.
Instinct took over from thought as their mouths met and fused. She tugged his head down again, as if afraid he might pull back. Donato ravaged her mouth, forgetting all about control in the need to crush her close.
Between them hands scrabbled at clothes, fumbling and tangling.
Ella’s fingers against his erection almost destroyed Donato. He grabbed her hand and planted it against his chest, over his thundering heart. Then he was wrenching at her trousers, hauling down the zip as she wriggled, helping him. His hands were unsteady but soon there was warm silken skin beneath his touch. Seconds later he was free of his own constraining trousers and pulling her to him.
Carajo! Had anything, ever, felt so good?
Donato lifted his head to drag in oxygen, his lungs already overloaded. Her eyes opened and he was lost in the silvery dazzle of her stare.
Then he touched her with one finger, circling, probing, and her eyes slitted to diamond-bright shards, her throat arching back as if her head was too heavy. Ella was soft, warm, wet, shifting restlessly as one finger became two and—
‘Condom.’ The word was a wisp of sound he almost missed. Then Ella straightened, her eyes locking with his. ‘I don’t have one.’ Delicate colour climbed her throat, a contrast to the pure silver of her eyes. ‘I didn’t think...’
Donato was fascinated by the suspicion that Ella was embarrassed, this woman who’d launched herself at him without reservation, so for a moment the implication didn’t hit. When it did he jerked back, stunned.
How had he, of all people, forgotten anything so basic? Such thoughtlessness wasn’t part of his DNA. Not now, not ever.
It was the work of seconds to grab the foil packet from his trouser pocket and rip it open. See? What seemed a lifetime ago he’d had foresight. He just hadn’t been prepared for the cataclysm that was Ella Sanderson in his arms.
There was something unbelievably arousing about holding Ella’s gaze as he sheathed himself. The soft pink rose to streak her fine cheekbones. For a fraction of a second the word endearing flashed into Donato’s brain, before higher thought became impossible and he gave in to primitive instinct.
Hands to her smooth bare hips, he pulled her close then with one sure movement pushed home.
A sound halfway between a sigh and a sob escaped Ella’s reddened lips and he made himself still, though the tight embrace of her slick heat almost made him lose himself.
Had he hurt her? He tried to unlock his jaw to ask but if he moved a muscle he mightn’t be able to hold back from the inevitable.
Then Ella