The kiss stirred every bone in her body, sensuality she had no idea she possessed and was suddenly desperate to explore. He groaned into her mouth and pride exploded through Olivia, because he was every bit as lost to this as she was, as powerless to resist this passion as Olivia.
Her hands lifted to his jacket, pushing at it, sliding it from his shoulders and down to the floor and then her hands were forcing his shirt from his trousers, her fingertips connecting with the bare skin of his toned abdomen, warm and smooth, with a sharp electrical shock that pushed them apart. No, it didn’t push them apart. Luca had stepped back as though burned, hands on hips, breath ragged.
‘I think we have our answer,’ he said, after a moment, the statement grim, as if it were the worst thing in the world that their experiment had failed. Olivia took her cue from him, but her veins were simmering, her mind at explosion point. She was a twenty-four-year-old virgin, she’d never explored this side of herself, never known it so much as existed, and suddenly desire was overtaking everything else. She blinked, turning away from him, needing space to process this, needing a chance to simmer down.
Wasn’t a cold shower the legendary cure for frustrated desire?
She moved towards the bathroom with knees that were barely steady, closing herself in and sinking back against the door gratefully. After a moment, she met her reflection and wonderment stole through her. Passion was everywhere, from her swollen lips to dilated pupils, to cheeks that were flushed from the rapid flow of her blood in her veins. She stumbled forward and gripped the marble vanity, dipping her head forward and sucking in a sharp breath. Shower. Now.
She reached around to the back of her dress then groaned once more, this time with frustration. The gown had an intricate system of silk-covered buttons trailing down the back. The stylist had fastened her into it that morning and it hadn’t occurred to Olivia to wonder how she’d get out of it again—nor had anyone offered advice, because the presumption had been made that Olivia would have her husband’s help.
She tried several times to unfasten the buttons herself, attempted to push the gown over her head, and even briefly contemplated ripping it from her body—only the price tag was still emblazoned in her mind with an element of horror, the cost of the dress shocking to Olivia, who’d been robbing Peter to pay Paul for so long she couldn’t imagine what it was like to have the kind of money to simply throw away on a dress like this, and no way would she do anything to damage said dress.
Balling up her courage, she opened the door, catching Luca unawares for several seconds, so she could observe him where he stood, now stripped down to his tuxedo trousers alone, feet bare, eyes trained on the view beyond the window. Flames licked through her. She’d imagined him naked more times than she could possibly admit—to herself or anyone—but seeing his bare torso was like a firework display right behind her eyes. She cleared her throat and he turned, as if coming from a long way away, his thoughts clearly distracted.
‘I can’t take off my dress,’ she explained, mortification curling her toes.
‘I see.’ One corner of his lips lifted with self-deprecation. ‘Another experiment?’
‘No.’ She’d learned her lesson. Hadn’t she? ‘Just a favour for a...friend,’ she supplied awkwardly, because they weren’t friends, they were strangers who’d just got married. The tangle she was in didn’t escape Olivia, but remembering her destitution, her mother’s situation, and most importantly the life Sienna deserved to live, propelled Olivia across to Luca with renewed determination. The ends of their marriage justified the means. She just had to keep a level head while waiting to divorce him. Only thirty sleeps to go... ‘Definitely no more experimenting with kissing,’ she said, for good measure.
‘Turn around.’ Oh, God. His voice was so sensual, his accent thick. She squeezed her eyes shut as she did exactly that, staring at the mirror opposite—except that was even worse, because the visage of Luca behind her was like catnip; she couldn’t take her eyes away from the picture they made. She tried to focus on the most unsexy thoughts imaginable. She thought of the plumbing at Hughenwood House, she thought of the funeral they’d held for their nineteen-year-old cat, only two months ago, she thought of the day she’d had to leave school to transfer to the local comprehensive, but then Luca’s fingers pressed to her back, finding the first delicate button, and all notions but the perfection of his touch evaporated from her mind. She bit down on her lower lip, to stem the tide of sensual need, but it did nothing, and the fact he was moving painstakingly slowly definitely didn’t help matters. One button separated, and he moved on to the next, and Olivia held her breath, wanting it to be over at the same time she never wanted it to end. Once the third button was undone, the dress separated enough for her to feel the cool night air on her flesh, and then his warm breath, and goosebumps covered her skin. She was sure he’d noticed the telltale response, because his breath hissed out audibly from between clenched teeth.
‘Cold?’ he enquired, moving to the next button.
She shook her head. She was hot. Hotter than Hades, burning to a crisp. Their eyes met in the mirror and a tremble ran the length of her spine. She might not have any experience with men, but she recognised the emotion stirring in Luca’s gaze, the heat of desire, because it was running rampant through her.
Whether he meant it or not, his body must have shifted, because his thighs brushed hers, and she had to catch a moan of her own. Her nipples strained against the lace of her delicate bra, painful and begging for touch. Surprise at her body’s immediate response, at the strength of her reaction, had her lifting her arms, crossing them over her chest, as if to catch the dress as he unbuttoned it, when really she wanted to conceal the telltale response from him. She was too late though; when she lifted her face and looked to the mirror, his eyes were on her breasts, his cheeks slashed with dark colour, his shoulders shifting with the force of each breath.
Her stomach swooped to her feet and heat pooled between her legs, a rush of need she’d never known before. So she wanted him to touch her nipples, yes, but, more vitally, she wanted him to reach between her legs and stroke her there until the flames were extinguished. But what about their agreement?
Fifth button, and the dress began to droop at her shoulders. Sixth, and the ruffled shoulder slipped down completely, revealing the top of her lace bra. Her first instinct was to hold on tighter, but some feminine knowledge reverberated through her, so instead she dropped her hands to her sides, her gaze holding a challenge when she met his in the mirror.
The dress fell low enough to reveal her bra, and her engorged, sensitive nipples. He cursed from behind her ear, unfastening another two buttons then dropping his own hands to his sides.
‘That’s enough.’ His voice held a strained quality.
Was it? Olivia wasn’t so sure.
‘I presume you can manage the rest?’
She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to say to him that, actually, help with her bra would be very useful, starting with cupping her breasts then moving to unclasp it, but the sheer strength of her desire was terrifying to Olivia, so she nodded jerkily and stepped forward. Only she hadn’t countered on the dress’s length, as it had fallen down her body, and she almost stumbled, but Luca was there, catching her with one strong arm, steadying her, holding her for a second too long before dropping his arms to his sides once more and stepping back.
‘We’ll go for dinner when you’re ready.’ He turned and strode towards the door, his voice and gait so normal that Olivia wondered if she’d completely imagined his responses to her, if perhaps she’d been imposing the strength of her needs on him. When he didn’t turn to look back at her, she convinced herself that was the case—he walked away without a backward glance yet he was filling her mind, her soul, her thoughts and her needs. Thirty nights suddenly felt like a lifetime.
He dragged his eyes over the outfit with a glimmer of distaste and impatience. Having seen her half naked, and in the svelte wedding dress, he wasn’t thrilled to have a return to the boxy, unflattering linen numbers, like the outfit she’d worn the night they’d met. But even with the average, oversized drab dress, there was no mistaking the natural beauty of Olivia. She shone like a diamond: stunning, elegant and irresistible.
He stood when she entered the room, noting that she barely met his eyes. Smart move, except her demure avoidance only made his desire increase ten-fold.
‘Dinner,’ he said with a sharp nod of his head, thinking that what they needed was to be surrounded by crowds, noise, bright lights.
‘We don’t have to eat out,’ she offered. After all, this was a fake honeymoon for their fake marriage. Surely there were limits to how much play-acting he was willing to do?
‘Yes, we do, and take photographs as evidence.’
‘Right, of course.’ He was very good at this, whereas Olivia had naively believed their marriage certificate would be enough to satisfy the terms of her father’s will. Olivia moved to the glass doors that led to the balcony, rather than the door to their suite. The waters of Venice’s grand canal glistened beneath her, the dusk light casting a shimmer over the surface, and the lights that had already come on in the buildings across the water gave the vista an almost magical look. ‘Where shall we eat?’
‘Do you have a preference?’