Ella met his eyes and refused to blush. She held out her hand.
‘They’re still warm from your body.’ Just like that he cut her off at the knees, swiping away the last tatters of her hard-won dignity. He sounded pleased. He didn’t sound like a man taking no for an answer.
She grabbed them from him and, following the direction he gestured, strode across the marble floor to the sanctuary of a bathroom.
* * *
Donato watched her stride across to the cloakroom, enjoying every step. He shifted, erect just at the sight of those beautiful long legs and the tantalising glimpses of her pale bare backside as her long top swayed from side to side. Her head was up and her shoulders back as if she owned the world. Such a contrast to the blushing woman who’d found it hard to meet his eyes a minute before.
Ella Sanderson was a conundrum. She was the hottest woman he’d ever had. Just talking to her turned him on. And she was so passionate. Yet there was a reserve about her, and there’d been no mistaking the shock in her eyes at what they’d done.
He ploughed his hand back through his hair. He was shocked too. Not because they’d had sex. That had been inevitable. But that it had been so earth-shattering. And that it left him needy, desperate to have her again.
There was something else about Ella too. A hint of vulnerability despite her sassy mouth. In fact that mouth of hers deserved close study over a long period. It gave her away, he realised. Any man could see it was the mouth of a temptress. But it trembled just a little when she was unsure of herself. And she had been unsure.
More than once that suggestion of a tremor had made him stop and rethink. He’d bet Ella would hate that, if she knew.
She challenged him more effectively than anyone he knew. He loved sparring with her, waiting to see what she came out with. She was a delight. That moment when she’d stood there, half naked, gnawing her lip and patently regretting what they’d done, Ella had still had the sass to imply she’d been the sexual aggressor.
As if he hadn’t been the one forcing her to confront her own desire!
Donato’s lips quirked. Had she worn that ugly underwear to keep him at bay? He found himself curious to see what her bra was like. She had a voluptuous body, no matter how she tried to hide it with that shapeless top. Her rounded hips were made to entice a man. She was slim and lithe but she had the sort of curves that made a man glad he was male. He looked forward to having her naked in his bed.
There was a click and the door opened. She stepped out, fully dressed and in control. The wanton woman hidden beneath her shapeless top; even her hair was yanked back in a ponytail. But the skylight above allowed diffused sunlight to catch the tones of honey and caramel in her soft brown hair. Her chin was up, ready for confrontation, and Donato stepped forward, his pulse quickening.
This time she met his gaze head-on. Instantly he felt that crackle, as electricity splintered the air.
It took him a moment to realise her eyes were once more that intriguing shade of blue-grey. For a few moments, when she’d shattered around him, her eyes had been pure molten silver.
Donato began calculating how long it would be before he saw that precious shimmer again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEY SAT AT a glass-topped table on the shady pool terrace. Ella didn’t know whether it was the luxury of her deeply upholstered chair, the glass of chilled Semillon Donato had poured or his air of ease but, remarkably, she began to relax.
Almost as if that hectic interlude in the foyer had never happened.
No, not that. She was hyper-aware of him—every move, every look. The shimmering excitement in her belly had eased a little, but not vanished.
Yet something had shifted. The challenge was no longer overt but overlaid with what felt curiously like understanding. Or a truce.
There’d been no provocative comments since she emerged from the bathroom. No double entendres. No confrontation and definitely no smirking from Donato.
He’d ushered her out here, chatting easily as if they hadn’t just imploded in each other’s arms. Maybe that should have insulted her, but Ella was relieved, feeling some of her jittery tension drain away.
She’d settled at the table, relieved to be off her unsteady legs, and watched him uncover a feast. The sort that took hours, and professional chefs, to prepare.
She should be critically analysing every nuance of the situation, working out how to counter the threat Donato posed.
It was a measure of the strangeness of the day, and of his easy charm, that Ella simply gave in to hunger and ate.