For what seemed like hours he stayed there, caressing, licking, tasting all that she had to offer. Watching her both lose herself and find herself in the passion they were creating together.
Reluctant to leave the soft satin of her skin, he leaned towards the bedside table and took protection, tearing off the foil and positioning the latex over himself. Her small hands came over his as he rolled the condom over his length, her fingers wrapping around his erection, smoothing down to the base.
Before she could chip any more away from the last shreds of his will power he picked up one of her hands, whilst positioning himself at her slick core.
He looked at her, silently begging her... For refusal or acceptance, he didn’t know any more. Her hands slid around him, clasping his hips and gently pulling him towards her, sealing their fate.
As he slowly pushed himself between her thighs he kissed the inside of her palm and entered her so carefully it was almost torture. But it wasn’t torture at all. It was bliss. She was so wet, so ready for him, and he sank deep into the tight, wet heat of her, allowing her body to shift and make room for him entirely.
Never before had he felt so deeply connected, so deeply with someone. And something inside him shifted. Something he couldn’t allow to take hold.
He inched forward just a little more, and Emma’s eyes widened and locked on to his.
He waited for her to acclimatise to him, and when he saw that she had he withdrew and plunged back into her, deep and hard. Her cries of pleasure rang out in the room, urging him on, into her again and again. An incredible sensation was stretching throughout his body, taking a firm hold on his chest and what lay hidden there beneath his ribs, and he knew—knew that this wasn’t just sex.
His cries soon joined hers and he grasped her wrists, holding them above her head, staring down into her eyes. He couldn’t hold back any more—he couldn’t hold anything back any more.
Sensing that she was on the brink of her second orgasm, feeling the tightening of her muscles around him, hearing that special, perfect pitch of her voice, he thrust into her one last time, and they fell together even more deeply over the edge than ever before.
* * *
Antonio woke in a panic. His heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat gathered on his brow, and his head was filled with thoughts of his father cruelly ripping him from Emma’s sleep-fuelled embrace.
It took him a moment to place himself. A thing that had never happened to Antonio before in his life. Not when he, his mother and sister had been wrenched from America and sent back to Italy...not in any of the numerous hotel rooms where he had spent countless nights for his business.
But the fear didn’t recede. Unaccountably, Antonio couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful was on the horizon—waiting to crash down and blow everything to smithereens.
&nbs
p; Emma turned beside him, the smooth sleek line of her spine exposed where he had pulled the sheets back from their stranglehold around his chest. He needed to move, needed to leave the safe haven of her bed, was reluctant to somehow infect her with his thoughts.
He grabbed his trousers from where he’d thrown them off only hours before and padded his way through to the living room, gently closing the door on the passion and emotion of earlier hours.
He forced his legs into the trousers and fastened the zip and the button around his waist. Signs of their lovemaking were everywhere. Discarded clothes, rumpled paper and documents from the Bartlett deal neither of them had seen in the urgency of their need.
He paced the room. Back and forth. And still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. His father had something. Something that Antonio didn’t. Something on Bartlett, he decided. He was too self-assured for a man on the brink of destruction. That was what had bothered him most about his father. Yes, he’d seen desperation—but he’d also seen triumph.
And then he did something he’d never thought himself capable of.
He found his mobile phone amongst the chaos of the room and pulled up the number of Arcuri Enterprises’ private investigator.
Not caring what time it would be in America, he spoke quietly and efficiently, outlining his need for the man to dig up anything and everything he might be able to find on Bartlett, or his family. Only days ago Emma had pointed out that Bartlett’s daughter was something of a party girl. She might be on to something.
If Antonio felt any guilt then he forced such a feeling aside, bringing to mind instead that horrible confrontation with his father. The only way to fight a monster was to become one himself. His father would pay for what he’d done. And if that meant reducing himself to his father’s level, ruining his soul, Antonio was willing to do so.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLASH OF THE TYCOON TITANS!
BY ROANNA KING
Arcuri vs Steele, son against father,
who will win?
It would seem that Antonio Arcuri’s shock engagement was just the beginning. The business world is holding its breath as father and son pitch for the same deal! Sources close to the tycoons have suggested a last-ditch battle of wills.
For years Arcuri has nipped at the edges of Steele’s business dealings, and is now pulling out all the stops to slash and burn with his legendary ruthlessness—his father, no less.