Ruthlessly Bedded, Forcibly Wedded

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‘Dio. You’re unbelievably responsive…’

His words were lost on Cara as her head fell back. She could feel her hair brush against her bare waist. With a wantoness she couldn’t stop, she felt herself opening her legs wider, allowing him access. His fingers slid all the way into the moist heat of her core, moving in and out in a rhythm that had an achy feeling starting to coil through her. Her hips jerked and moved against his hand, all thoughts and feelings centered on those nerve-endings. She felt him move his thumb against her down there and yelped.

Her head came up and she looked down at him, genuinely mystified at this amazing tightening and coiling, this gathering of feelings that all seemed to centre around her belly and between her legs. She could feel her breathing quicken so much she thought she might be in danger of hyperventilating. Her movements became more instinctive, more desperate. She wasn’t in control of her own body any more. She was quite literally in this man’s hands, at the mercy of something so all-consuming she just had to ride it.

Her hands desperately searched for and tightened on his shoulders. She had to anchor herself to something. And then, after a climb that seemed to be endless, suddenly she was held suspended at a height she’d never known existed. With a simple flick of Enzo’s thumb against her she fell down into a mass of spasming sensations, her whole body tightening and releasing. The pleasure was so exquisite she couldn’t believe she’d waited so long to experience it.

All those inane conversations she’d overheard for years finally made sense, she thought dreamily as she felt Enzo lift her onto the bed, her inner muscles still clenching. She sensed an urgency in his movements even though she wanted to curl up and go to sleep, with a delicious satedness thrumming through her blood.

Slumberously, Cara watched as Enzo reached somewhere and pulled out a foil packet, watched as he tore it open and smoothed the condom onto his erection—which looked even bigger. She was thankful he had thought of protection, because it was the most remote thing from her own mind and the lack of it wouldn’t have held her back in the slightest. Not when she could barely remember who she was any more.

He came alongside her and her belly quivered. Unbelievably Cara felt a deeper yearning surge through her, waking her body anew. Moments ago she’d been ready for sleep, but now desire was building again, deep in her core. More urgently. Somehow she knew instinctively that whatever she’d just experienced was nothing compared to what she was about to experience. The anticipation almost made her feel fearful. Could she withstand a more intense pleasure?

Her eyes grew huge as he smoothed a hand down her body, over the curves and tips of her breasts, making them tingle, crave his touch and mouth again. He was a mind-reader. He bent his head and his mouth unerringly found one pouting pink peak and closed over it. Cara gasped and held his head to her breasts with a desperate clasp. He moved his body until he was between her legs.

He lifted his head from her possessive hands. ‘Patience…’

He lifted her hips, angling her slightly, and nudged her legs farther apart with powerful hair-roughened thighs. Cara could feel his penis against the still slick and sensitive folds of her sex. Her body spasmed in response. Her belly tingled.

‘Tell me how much you want this,’ he demanded roughly, his voice sending Cara’s arousal into orbit. There was something so guttural about it…

‘Like I’ve never wanted anything else,’ she answered truthfully, a well of emotion rising within her. She knew now that she was here because she felt much more than just a physical connection with this man.

‘Tell me you need this,’ he said then, and with a subtle, tiny movement Cara felt him slide the head of his shaft into her. The intrusion was new and alien, yet at the same time somehow familiar. She had that weird feeling again of having lain with him before.

‘Oh…’

He slid in a little deeper. ‘Tell me,’ he demanded hoarsely.

Obeying some primal urge, Cara instinctively tilted her hips up, causing him to slide in a little more. She lifted her head. ‘I need this…I need you. Please Enzo…please.’

With a deep moan of intensely male satisfaction Enzo held Cara’s hips tilted, bent his head, and drew a nipple roughly into his mouth. As he did so he thrust into her, all the way, right to the hilt. Cara cried out, unable to help herself. She’d heard stories of pain, but all she felt was a pleasure so intense and pure that she could have wept.

Enzo drew back, a questioning frown on his face. ‘Did I hurt you?’

She shook her head fiercely and drew her hips back in a move that was completely instinctive, causing Enzo to withdraw slightly so he’d have to thrust in again.

‘No…I’ve just never felt like this before.’

As if he’d thought something, or been about to say something, his face cleared. He took control of her wanton hips and held them fast. Cara bit her lip as he thrust back in again, harder this time. And with each thrust, each movement against the tight, sensitive walls of her passage, she climbed higher and higher, leaving the previous peak she’d reached in the dust.

Enzo had called her a witch, but he was a wizard. Their skin was slick with sweat, and Cara begged brokenly as their movements became faster, more urgently desperate.

‘Please, Enzo…please.’

And then suddenly she was there. Her body tensed and tightened all over and she held her breath, eyes open wide as she looked up into his face. His cheekbones were slashed with red, his eyes glittering so darkly that she couldn’t read them. And then she fell, her muscles contracting and pulsating around his shaft as he drove in and out, his breath harsh and fast. Just as she was falling, seemingly never-endingly, Cara felt the shock of another peak approaching. And as Enzo’s movements stopped, and he tensed too, she found herself falling all over again, this time with him, as she felt the power of him burst free within her, his release awe-inspiring.

His weight was deliciously heavy on her. Cara’s legs were wrapped around him, her arms tight around his neck. She never wanted to let him go. The feeling of connection was so intense it was overwhelming. Their hearts hammered in tandem against their chests.

After long moments Enzo finally pulled free. He scooped them onto their sides, Cara against his front, and with an arm heavy around her middle Cara felt herself drift into a deep boneless and bottomless slumber, her arm tight around Enzo’s, holding him to her. For the first time in a long time she felt at peace. As if she’d come home from a long, arduous journey.

Vicenzo came to his senses slowly, and the world righted itself. His frantic heartbeat slowed back to a near normal pace. Reality came harshly, and with swift, painful clarity. He felt the seductive body clasped against him, felt the way his arm was wrapped around her so possessively, and tensed.

Blood roared to his brain at what had just happened—how far off base he’d come. How far off base he’d let her take him, as if he’d had no control over the situation. From the moment he’d met her in the bar and looked into those huge, duplicitous green eyes, flecked with darker tones making her seem mysterious, everything had shifted. One thing he hadn’t bargained on was this: that he’d want her on sight with a hunger that precluded anything else he’d ever felt in his life. It was shaming, shocking and all-consuming.

Acting on pure impulse, guided by something he couldn’t entirely fathom even now, he’d told her he was simply Enzo—had kept hidden his real identity. Her face had entranced him, despite his best intentions to remain unmoved by her: exquisitely pale, with its explosion of freckles making her look so young and innocent.

Vicenzo slammed down on his thoughts as he carefully extricated himself from Cara’s sleeping form. He remembered just moments ago, pulling himself free from her body’s tight clasp. Even that movement had caused a fresh ripple of arousal which he had had to ignore with all his might—especially when she’d moaned softly, as if in protest. Now, though, she didn’t wake.

He forced his thoughts away from the memory of what had just happened with cold ruthlessness. He’d wanted to see what she would do—to see the woman who had spent time with his sister, pretending to be her friend. Would she try to seduce him? His instincts had been proved right, and also the instinct to hold back, not to reveal himself. His justifications comforted him, even as he registered the unwelcome revelation that he hadn’t planned on going this far.

He reminded himself that he’d seen her in action before he’d even met her—draped over that barman when he’d entered the club, only to swiftly turn her attention to him as soon as he’d arrived. She’d just proved herself to be the consummate seducer. Full of innocent little tricks and ploys. For a moment there he’d had the fleetingly ridiculous thought that she might have been a virgin, but she’d quickly quashed that suspicion with her knowing response, taking him with a confidence that could only have been born of experience. He only had to look at how quickly she’d tumbled into his bed, with the merest artful hint of hesitation designed to rouse a man to the point of erotic anticipation.

The bile grew stronger as he sat on the side of the bed before standing up, muscles protesting. Their coming together had been so urgent, so passionate, that he couldn’t remember the last time it had been like that for him—or if ever. And with her, of all people. He stalked to the bathroom, self-disgust mounting along with his anger. He dealt with the protection and turned to look at himself in the mirror, his face rigid with tension.

Cold fury barrelled through him. This would be the sweetest form of revenge after all—because she’d slept with him tonight not knowing who he was, no doubt expecting him to bankroll her exorbitant lifestyle now that her brother was gone.

He told himself that he’d asked her to come to his hotel as a test—not because he’d wanted her with an urgency that bordered on desperation. But he knew that in that moment when she’d stood before him in the cool night air all thoughts of Allegra and what this woman had done had been shamingly forgotten for a precious moment, in the heat of his arousal. His motivations had become blurred. He had to hand it to her. She was good. A less cynical man than himself would have been foolishly duped in a heartbeat by the way she’d come back and breathily offered herself up to him with all the feigned innocence of a novice. As if she didn’t do this all the time.

But he knew better than that. He’d been dealt a harsh lesson at an early age in the selfish, manipulative ways of women. His own mother had dealt him that lesson. And he’d learnt well. Ultimately they looked after themselves, and this was exactly what Cara Brosnan was doing—already feathering her nest, looking for her next meal ticket…

Her brother had coldly seduced his sister with every intention of plundering her wealth and dumping her by the wayside. There was a compelling symmetry to what had just happened; Vicenzo was doing to Cara, something similar to what she and her brother had planned to do to his sister.

The set and cold features of Allegra came back to him. He felt no compunction now, no guilt. He buried all emotion deep inside. He had taken advantage of an intense physical desire. There was no harm in admitting that. Cara was a beautiful woman, after all. And she was well versed in the ways of the world; she was old beyond her years and certainly possessed a knowingness that his sheltered sister had never had. Allegra had been easy pickings for someone as predatory and corrupt as Cormac Brosnan.

Cara might have surprised and bewitched Vicenzo more than he’d expected, but ultimately this was where he wanted her: at his mercy and feeling all the pain it was possible for someone like her to feel. Which he guessed wasn’t much. This was far better than confronting her and trying to make her admit to her guilt. She’d have laughed in his face. A woman who could sleep with a complete stranger the night after burying her own brother was someone Vicenzo could easily despise

He stepped into the shower. After which he went back outside to dress and wait for Cara to wake up.

CHAPTER THREE

CARA felt consciousness return as if from far away. Sensations came back into her body, which felt deliciously heavy and languorous. Strange new aches and pains were present in her muscles, but she amended her first impression: not painful, pleasant. She was relishing waking slowly, and the blissful haze that clouded her brain was like a drug, keeping all painful concerns out. She knew they were there, clamouring for attention, but she wanted to hold them off on the periphery just a bit longer.

She became aware of the fact that she was no longer tucked into Enzo’s body, with his legs and arms wrapped protectively around her. She smiled. She’d had no idea it could be like that. She put out a hand, expecting to feel a big hard body, but the bed was empty beside her. Immediately her eyes flew open and she blinked in the early dawn light coming through the windows. How long had she been asleep?

She sat up and looked to the other side of the room. Enzo was sitting in a chair, watching her in the bed. Cara felt her heart stop and start again in heavy slow thuds. She felt momentarily light headed. She smiled hesitantly, feeling extremely shy.

‘Morning…’

Enzo said nothing, just continued to watch her. Cara frowned and felt a trickle of foreboding slither down her spine. The air in the room felt frosty and she had no idea why.

Her smile faded.

‘Enzo…?’ Her voice was more hesitant, unsure.

With lithe animal grace he pushed himself up from the chair and strolled to the window, where he looked out for a long moment with his back to her, hands in his pockets. Cara saw that he was fully dressed, in a suit and tie. It made her pull the sheet higher up around her breasts. She felt at a disadvantage, not knowing why this mattered.

He turned then, and she felt speared by his eyes. Any trace of tenderness and passion was gone. His visage was as stern and forbidding as if she’d just insulted him in some way. And then he said, with quiet devastation, ‘My full name isn’t actually Enzo—although close family and friends have been known to use the abbreviation. It’s Vicenzo. Vicenzo Valentini.’

For a blissful moment Cara had no reaction. As if something was protecting her. And then the import of his words started to sink in. That name. It couldn’t be. The air left her lungs. Her belly fell.

She heard herself asking shakily, ‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me.’ He was curt. Abrupt.

She shook her head as if to try and clear it, could feel her hands clenching tight around the sheet. She felt confused and bewildered. ‘You’re Allegra’s brother?’

‘Well done.’

Cara could not understand his animosity. She felt as though she were in a bad dream, and the fact that this man was dragging the awful nightmare of that night and the painful reality of her life into this room was incomprehensible.

‘You know who I am?’ Obviously he did, yet something compelled her to ask. The fact that he wasn’t jumping to offer her condolences on the death of her brother was glaringly obvious.

He settled back against the window, for all the world as if they were having a nice chat, but Cara could sense the tension in his frame. And the thought of that, his frame, made her feel weak. She was already compartmentalising what had happened last night and what was happening right now into two very separate places—as if some functioning part of her brain was ahead of her in deciphering what was happening.

‘Yes, of course I do, Cara.’ His voice was mocking, confusing her even more. ‘I knew who you were before we even introduced ourselves. I came to that club specifically to find you.’

She shook her head again. It felt woolly. ‘But why…why didn’t you just tell me who you were?’

Something indecipherable flashed across his face for a moment, before it became a smooth hard mask again. ‘Because I wanted to see you at first hand. Up close and personal. The little sister of Cormac Brosnan, the man who was planning on marrying my sister in Vegas on the eve of her twenty-fifth birthday so that he could claim her fortune before cruelly dumping her.’

Cara’s face leached of all colour. She’d only found out about Cormac’s plans the day of the accident. She could remember remonstrating with him, aghast that he would do such a thing. He’d laughed in her face. And then that night…

‘You knew.’

He saw her reaction, and his voice was implacable and condemnatory.

Cara met his eyes, everything around her swirling slightly. ‘Yes, but—’

Vicenzo stood away from the window with a violent movement, halting her words. And somewhere Cara marvelled at how she was already thinking of him as Vicenzo. Enzo had long gone.

‘Yes, but nothing. You knew, and you had as much a hand in the plans as your brother. Tell me, were you the perfect little confidante to Allegra? Buttering her up, telling her how much your brother loved her? Priming her for the fall?’

Cara recoiled, her eyes huge. ‘No. I didn’t know what Cormac was planning—that is not until last week, I swear. I liked your sister…’

Pain gripped Cara again at how she’d failed to help—and yet she hadn’t had enough time. Vicenzo advanced towards the bed and she recoiled back even further. He said something rude in Italian—undoubtedly a curse.

‘Of course you liked my sister, Miss Brosnan. She represented your easy ride to a future where you would never have to worry about money again.’ He clicked his fingers, making Cara flinch. ‘All your brother’s debts gone, in an instant.’

When he called her Miss Brosnan she felt her heart shrivel a little inside her. It cast a slur on the passion they’d shared in this very room. She could see it now: his resemblance to Allegra. She’d noticed it last night, but of course she had had no frame of reference for it.

Cara found some strength under the laser-like gaze and scooted up in the bed, kneeling, holding the sheet around her with both hands. She still had to make sense of all of this. Her head hurt with so many questions.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’ll help you, shall I?’

Cara gulped. He looked positively intimidating, a muscle beating in his tight jaw, glaring down at her. A million miles from the man who had become her first lover.

‘As soon as your brother realised that Allegra was heiress to a substantial part of the Valentini fortune he pursued her with nothing more in mind than to rape her for her wealth.’

Cara flinched at his words but he went on.

‘He introduced her to drugs to make her more malleable, make her dependent on him totally. And all the while he was doing this he was keeping me busy at home with a bogus takeover bid, ensuring I wouldn’t check up on her.’ Vicenzo laughed harshly. ‘After all, she was here working—a grown woman, as she kept reassuring me, well able to take care of herself. Why should I be worried about her?’

Cara felt sick. She’d witnessed her brother’s actions. What Vicenzo said now didn’t surprise her, but she’d had no idea how influential Cormac had been over Allegra. She’d only ever seen Allegra come and go, stay the night a few times. She’d seemed sweet, perfectly happy. It had only been when he’d revealed his plans that she’d begun to see Allegra as a potential victim. And that revelation had come far too late.

Cara swallowed painfully. ‘If you knew this—’

‘That’s the problem.’ His voice was unbearably harsh, the lines in his face tightly drawn. ‘I didn’t know. Until we figured out that Brosnan’s bid was bogus. Immediately I suspected he was up to something more, and I also realised that he