Fascination: The Sicilian's Ruthless Marriage Revenge

Although she could never remember responding to her husband in the abandoned way she had to Cesare!

But, although only minutes had passed, wasn’t it just a little too late for her to even attempt to give Cesare the release that his throbbing body, pressed against hers, so obviously craved?

‘What are you thinking now?’ Cesare’s voice was harsh in the pregnant silence that had grown between them.

Robin hesitated before answering. ‘That this is the most embarrassing moment of my entire life,’ she told him honestly.

‘Embarassing?’ Cesare repeated, standing back slightly to look at her, her hair rumpled and silky, her eyes overbright, her mouth slightly swollen from the force of his kisses. Her breasts were still aroused from the touch of his hands and lips, and there was a lethargy to her limbs that spoke of recent arousal and release. ‘You are beautiful, Robin,’ he assured her. ‘In fact, once we are husband and wife, I wish for you to hate me in that way every night of our married life!’

‘You’re so sure, after … after that … that I’ll marry you, aren’t you?’ she accused with an indignant glare, and she bent down to snatch up her dress from the carpeted floor and hold it against her bare breasts.

Cesare sensed that she was once again being deliberately provocative, but the unsatisfied ache of his own body meant he was in no mood for yet another argument.

There was no way Robin could deny her physical response to him, or his response to her, and any more prevarication between them was pointless.

He gave a sharp inclination of his head. ‘I suggest you tell your father we are to be married as soon as a special licence can be arranged—’

‘Oh, you suggest, do you?’ Robin echoed sarcastically as she pulled her dress back on and zipped it firmly back into place.

‘Yes—I—suggest,’ Cesare repeated forcefully, the familiar ache of his body certainly not improving his temper.

What should have happened now was for the two of them to go to bed together and finish what they had started. But one look at Robin’s rebellious expression told him that definitely was not going to happen!

No matter. He had the rest of their lives together to take his fill of this highly sensuous woman. A few days, perhaps weeks, to wait; delay would only make his anticipation all the sweeter.

‘At least give me some credit for having the sense not to make it an order, Robin,’ he grated.

She gave a derisive snort. ‘I have no intention of giving you credit for anything, Cesare!’

He quirked dark brows over mocking brown eyes. ‘Not even for being a considerate lover?’ he taunted softly.

‘For being an experienced one, you mean!’ she came back self-disgustedly, and her cheeks burned anew at his reminder of her earlier loss of control.

And something else, if Cesare was not mistaken. Perhaps she had not had the same consideration for his own pleasure?

‘I have had other lovers, yes,’ he conceded. ‘But then, so have you.’

‘One lover,’ she corrected. ‘I would never—That … what happened just now would never have happened if—’ She broke off suddenly. ‘I have to go,’ she muttered almost inaudibly.

It wasn’t what they had planned for tonight, Cesare knew, but in view of what had just ocurred he was inclined to let Robin make her escape.

Before, no doubt, spending a frustratingly restless night himself.

Although there was some sweet consolation for him in the fact that Robin claimed her only lover had been her ex-husband.

It was a surprise, a very pleasant surprise, and her uninhibited response to him encouraged him in the belief that Robin would accept him as a husband much sooner than she thought she would.

‘Very well, Robin,’ he conceded. ‘I will allow you to—’

‘You aren’t allowing me to do anything, Cesare,’ Robin cut in impatiently. ‘My God, you’re arrogant,’ she added disgustedly. ‘I’m leaving now because I want to, not because you’re allowing me to! Don’t think—don’t ever think—that you’ll control me with physical pleasure, Cesare. Because you won’t!’

Had that been his intention? However, the physical pleasure they had just known together was not a weapon to be used but to be enjoyed—reveled in, even.

Did Robin think—did she really not know—that the pleasure she had experienced tonight was much rarer than people would have you believe? That, no matter what all those glossy magazines might say, many women went through the whole of their life without experiencing a single orgasm in the arms of their lover. Pleasure, yes, but not necessarily the deep, orgasmic response that Robin had just given so freely.

He was not about to refuse the gift she had given him, let alone throw it back in her beautiful face!

‘Just go, Robin,’ he told her sternly. ‘With your agreement,’ he added, ‘we will meet again tomorrow evening—’

‘At a restaurant this time!’ she came back swiftly, eyes flashing angrily.

He gave a humourless smile. ‘At a restaurant this time,’ he conceded. ‘Do not ever think you will control me with physical pleasure either, Robin,’ he warned.

Her eyes widened briefly, followed by a frown, before she turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Cesare heard the lift doors open and then close seconds later as she left.

No matter.

He had tomorrow night. And the night after that. And all the other nights for the rest of his life …

‘You spent yesterday evening having dinner with who?’ her father said incredulously, as he sat across the breakfast table from Robin the following morning.

‘Oh, Daddy,’ she replied, her tone teasing, ‘As I know there is absolutely nothing wrong with your hearing, I’m sure you heard me the first time.’ She raised mock-reproving brows, her elbows resting on the table as she cradled her morning cup of coffee in her hands.

Although she hadn’t exactly had dinner with Cesare—or at least they had never finished eating!—she inwardly acknowledged ruefully, still writhing with embarrassment inside herself every time she so much as thought of the time she had spent in Cesare’s arms the previous evening.

Nothing like that had ever happened to her before.

Oh, the physical side of her marriage to Giles had been satisfying enough at the beginning. Less so as they’d become caught up in the tests and charts and temperature-taking that had been part of their effort to conceive the child Giles so wanted. The child Robin had wanted too.

That she was now going to have in Marco, if her marriage to Cesare Gambrelli took place.

And now she’d met Marco, she had every intention that it would.

She had woken up this morning—in her own bed, thank goodness—filled with what she could only describe as a feeling of satisfied langour. Caused by Cesare’s lovemaking, she knew.

But it was that langour, the knowledge that when she and Cesare were married she would become his wife in the full sense of the word, as well as her joy in the prospect of becoming Marco’s mother, which had encouraged her to start the awkward process this morning of breaking the news of their relationship to her father.

The sooner he knew, the sooner she could become mother to that enchanting little boy.

Her father looked stricken by her news as he stared across the breakfast table at her. ‘I—But … Cesare Gambrelli, Robin?’ he finally burst out disbelievingly. ‘I wasn’t aware that you even knew the man!’

‘You introduced the two of us last Saturday at the charity dinner, remember?’ she reminded gently.

‘Well, yes, but—’ He shook his head. ‘When did the two of you meet up again?’ His brow furrowed.

Robin was aware that this conversation was going to be delicate, to say the least, and also aware that Cesare wasn’t the most patient of men—that if she didn’t talk to her father then Cesare surely would. It would be so much better coming from her.