'You're so much smaller than I am.'
'I like it when you're wild,' she whispered feverishly.
Above her, Luca closed his eyes and slammed into her hard, releasing such a flood of electrifying sensation that Darcy moaned his name like a benediction. He withdrew and entered her again, with a raw, forceful sense of timing that was soul-shatteringly effective. Her entire being was centred on the explosive pleasure building inside her. Heart pounding in concert with his, she cried out in ecstasy as he drove her over the edge. Then she just collapsed, totally drained.
They lay together in a sweaty huddle. Luca released her from his weight but retained a possessive hold on her, pressing his mouth softly to her throat, lingering to lick the salt from her skin and smooth a soothing hand down over her slender back.
"That was unbelievable...that was paradise, cara mia,' Luca sighed in a tone of wondering satisfaction. 'I have never felt this good.'
'What time is your sister coming?' Darcy mumbled. Luca tensed, relocated the wrist with a watch, and sud¬denly wrenched himself free. 'Porca miseria...Ilaria will be here at any moment!'
Feeling totally brainless and lethargic, Darcy watched him spring off the bed. 'Darcy...' he gritted then.
'What?' she whispered with a silly smile, surveying him with a kind of bursting feeling inside her heart.
'You can share my shower.' Luca scooped her up into his powerful arms and strode into the bathroom with her. 'I'll never get my hair dry!' But still she watched him, trying desperately hard to work out why she felt so ecstati¬cally happy.
'Your eyes are glowing like neon lights.' Studying her with a curiously softened look in his dark, deep-set gaze, Luca hooked her arms round his strong brown throat and kissed her again, holding her plastered to every inch of him beneath the gushing cascade of water. He raised his head again, a slight frown drawing his black brows together. 'I assume you're on the pill...'
'Nope.'
'I didn't use anything to protect you,' Luca told her slowly as he lowered her back down to the floor of the cubicle. 'Santo cielo... how could I be that careless?'
Darcy had stiffened. How could she be that careless again? Yet another time. The first occasion had resulted in Zia's conception. She had foolishly assumed that the course of contraceptive pills she had stopped taking the day she failed to marry Richard would still prevent a pregnancy. Naturally it hadn't. Her own ignorance had been her down¬fall.
'Very little risk,' she muttered awkwardly, avoiding his searching scrutiny.
'You would know that better than I.'
He was wrong there, Darcy conceded ruefully. Her monthly cycles caused her so little inconvenience that she never bothered to keep a note of dates. She hadn't a clue what part of her cycle she was in, but she had almost super¬natural faith in the power of Luca's fertility. Suppose she did become pregnant again...
Oddly enough, the prospect failed to rouse the slightest sense of alarm. Indeed, as Darcy looked up at Luca, mentally miles away while he washed her, she was picturing a small boyish version of those same features that distinguished Zia. A buoyant warm sensation instantly blossomed inside her. Only when she appreciated how she was reacting to that prospect of pregnancy was she shocked by herself.
'What's wrong?' Luca prompted.
In her haste to escape those frighteningly astute eyes, Darcy lurched out of the shower. Grabbing up a towel, she took refuge in the dressing room to dry herself. I can't be in love with him. I can't be, she told herself sickly. It was a kind of immature infatuation and it had its sad roots in the past.
Karen had been right about her: she had spent too much time alone. Building romantic castles in the air around Luca Raffacani would be a very stupid move, and, having done it once and learnt her mistake, she was con¬vinced she was too sensible to be so foolish again.
By one of those strange tricks of fate Luca found her attractive, and they were sexually compatible, but she would have to be an idiot to imagine that Luca might now develop some form of emotional attachment to her. He had said it himself only this morning, hadn't he? He had talked with outrageous unapologetic cool about how they should be 'skimming along the surface of things and having a great time in bed' rather than arguing. Suddenly Darcy was very glad she had slapped him so hard...
'Tell me about your sister,' Darcy invited Luca as they left the bedroom. Having donned an elegant black dress and fresh lingerie at speed, she had attempted to coax her damp curls into some semblance of a style, but she was out of breath and her cheeks were still pink with effort. 'It'll look strange if I know nothing about her.'
Luca, as sleek and cool and elegant as a male who had spent a leisurely hour showering, shaving and donning his superb dinner jacket and narrow black trousers, gave her a wry look. 'My parents died in a plane crash when Ilaria was eight. My aunt became her legal guardian. I was only nineteen. Emilia was a childless widow, eager to mother my sister, but she was very possessive. She made it difficult for me to maintain regular contact with Ilaria.' "That was selfish of her.'