‘I wondered if you have staff.’
‘Not today. I gave them the day off.’ He paced closer and her head jerked up. The gleam in his eyes was pure carnal invitation, as was the half smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. Heat blasted her, turning the marrow in her bones molten.
How could she feel so needy again? Surely it had only been minutes since they’d— Ella slammed a door on that train of thought.
He was before her now, his palms resting lightly on her bare thighs. His hands were broad, hard with calluses, and the feel of them on her skin made her pulse skitter. She remembered him touching her intimately and the breath sighed out of her lungs.
Then his words penetrated.
‘You gave them the day off? Why? Because you were so sure we’d...’ Ella swallowed hard. ‘So sure of me?’
His expression was still, giving nothing away, except for that banked heat.
‘I was sure that, whatever happened, I wanted complete privacy. No distractions.’
She angled her jaw. ‘In case I ravished you before I even got past the foyer?’ Her bravado hid a world of discomfort. She wanted to scurry away and hide, not brazen out her inexplicable behaviour. She’d acted like a tart instead of her cautious, reserved self.
‘I’ve discovered I adore being ravished in the foyer.’ His fingers touched her chin, tilting it towards him. ‘And it was a mutual ravishment, Ella.’
Did he say that to make her feel better? It didn’t.
She’d known from the first that he was Trouble with a capital T. She just hadn’t reckoned on her own body betraying her. In twenty-six years it had never done so before. Sex, in her admittedly limited experience, had been carefully planned, horizontal and...nice. Not a blaze of out-of-control libidos.
Something flared in Donato’s eyes and she just knew he was thinking about it too. Sex. The scent of it hung in the air and, despite her lassitude mere minutes ago, Ella’s body was ripe and ready for him again.
She shifted back on the sideboard, yanking her chin from his touch.
‘I need to get dressed.’
For an answer his hand slid slowly up her thigh, creating waves of tingling pleasure. ‘No need for that. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.’ His eyes had that heavy-lidded look that made her pulse race. His voice had dropped to a low burr of temptation.
Insidious longing filled Ella and she slapped her hand on his to stop him reaching up under her top. She didn’t trust herself to resist if he touched her there.
‘No!’ She breathed deep. ‘I want to get dressed.’
His fingers splayed wide on her thighs, curling around them, sending awareness rippling through her. The tension in her belly notched higher.
‘This isn’t over, Ella.’ His head lowered towards hers, his breath hazing her lips. ‘Don’t pretend it is.’
Was that a threat or a promise? It stiffened her spine, giving her the strength to shove him back with the flat of her hand. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t move, then his fingers trailed down her thighs and away as he took a pace back.
Ella shimmied to the edge of the sideboard and onto the floor. Her knees wobbled for a perilous moment but she forced herself to stand tall. Just as if she paraded half naked before men on a regular basis.
‘Don’t hide from the truth, Ella. Amazing as it was, that barely touched the surface, for either of us.’ His swift, all-encompassing survey left her blood singing.
Looking him in the face was far harder than facing her stressed manager in a foul mood, or her father in full flight. ‘I’d prefer to have this conversation with my clothes on. You have the advantage over me there.’
The slow curve of his lips did devastating things to her and the devilish glint in his eyes was even worse. She sank back against the sideboard, needing support.
‘You want me naked?’ His hand went to the top button of his shirt and Ella swallowed hard. Of course she wanted him naked. He was right. She hadn’t had nearly enough of him.
‘I want my clothes.’ Her voice was too strident but it was the best she could do. Dragging her gaze from his to the discarded heap of fabric on the floor, she moved forward.
‘If you must.’ Before she could get there Donato had scooped up not only her trousers, but her cotton undies too. They dangled from his fingers—plain and ordinary, just like her. She’d challenged herself this morning not to dig out her sexy lace knickers and bra, bought on a whim and worn once. To do so would have been an admission that she fancied him. That she wanted him to think of her as alluring. Well, the laugh was on her. Instead of black lace, he had his hands on beige cotton.