The Delicious De Campos: The Divorce Party

Lilly flicked her gaze over him, her cat eyes wary and defiant. “Get out.”

He shook his head and leaned back against the door frame. “I don’t think so.”

Her eyes grew larger—big, bottomless pools of amber and green he could lose himself in. Her spine stiffened as she turned fully to face him. She was afraid of him, and with a savage inner growl he acknowledged that he didn’t care.

He moved toward her, his steps slow and purposeful. “I warned you not to talk to him.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I fell off that runway because you insisted I model that dress. Harry just wanted to see if I was okay.”

His mouth twisted. “He wanted to remind you he’s still around.”

“Good thing he was, or who would have caught me?”

She knew her mistake the minute he stepped in to trap her against the door. “You think I’m never there for you, Lilly? Well, here I am.”

He could hear her agitated breathing, see the confusion and fire that swirled in her eyes. “Go to hell,” she blazed, her shoulders pressing back into the door.

“I’d rather go down on you,” he murmured, sliding the back of his hand over her rosy cheek. “I know how sweet you taste, tesoro. How much you love it when I— Ah—” He caught the hand she swung at him and twisted it behind her back. “Don’t do that.”

She bit out a curse and fought against his hold, but he held her firm. “Dammit, Riccardo, let me go.”

He dropped her hand and stepped in closer, until his body was pushed up against hers. “Time to talk in the only way we know how.”

She squirmed against him as he imprinted her with his brand of honesty—the hard, throbbing truth of his lust, which was quickly sending him over the edge. But she wasn’t being very convincing and he could hear how her breathing had quickened.

“Give it up, Lilly,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers. “We both know how this is going to end.”

She said something against his lips and he replied with a hard, bruising kiss that was about control, not pleasure. She’d always liked it when he dominated, and he knew that hadn’t changed.

She pressed her lips mutinously shut as he slid his tongue against the crease and demanded entry. Smiling at that, he trailed his hand down over the newly voluptuous curves of her breasts, over the nipple that jutted through the lacy material that covered her, and rolled the hard nub between his fingers. She made a sound low in her throat and twisted against him, but it wasn’t the movement of a woman who wanted to go anywhere. Her eyes were closed and her lips had softened, and when he swept his thumb over the hard tip and made it come to full erectness she sagged against him.

Melted into him.

He buried his hands in the thick swath of hair at the nape of her neck. Then he kissed her again, and this time she opened for him and let him take the kiss deeper, into an achingly intimate caress that told her exactly what he wanted to do to her with his tongue and with his body.

The broken sound that came from her throat told him the battle had been won.

“Basta,” he murmured. “Enough denying ourselves what we both want.”

Lilly pressed her hands back against the door as he ran his palm down the trembling flatness of her stomach. “Ric—”

He slid his hand underneath the silk that covered her and his fingers delved into the hot cleft between her thighs. She gasped and arched against his hand. A primal surge of heat flashed through him. She was wet—oh, so wet for him—and he nearly lost it right there. But he savagely yanked back his control and stilled his fingers to growl, “Tell me you love it when I touch you, tesoro.”

She nodded, but kept her eyes shut.

“Say it.”

“Dammit, yes. Please—”

“And I’m the only man who’s ever going to touch you like this?”

She moaned her assent. Satisfied, he slid his fingers against the warm silk of her and indulged his craving to touch her in every way possible.

Her sudden intake of breath and her hands against his chest took him off guard.

“Get your hands off me.”

He drew back. “Lil—”

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Her voice rose in furious accusation. “Control. You being the only one to ever have me. Me doing what you want.”

He frowned. “You were as into that as I was.”

“I was being stupid. Stupid. How could I forget what this is all about? You—always you, Riccardo.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “Claiming what’s yours.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Her eyes glittered. “No, I’ve finally got my head back. Lord forbid I forget to keep my eye on the prize. You certainly haven’t.”

He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I am not something to be conquered,” she said thickly. “I am your wife. You just can’t understand that.”

“Lilly—”

“Get out.” Her face was a blotchy patchwork of red. “Get out or I will walk out of here and never come back, deal or no deal.”

Deciding there was no reasoning with her while she was in this state, he turned on his heel and left, hearing the door slam behind him.

He took a cold shower in the guest bedroom, letting the freezing water pound down on his shoulders. Was he demented for even attempting this plan of his? To want to make Lilly pay for everything she’d done to him? The humiliation she’d caused him? Because he wasn’t sure who was winning—her or him.

CHAPTER SIX (#u8b806eea-318a-5338-a9ba-e45ee4ae1875)

“THIS IS YOUR idea of convincing the board you’re the man to lead De Campo?”

Gabe shoved a folded newspaper under Riccardo’s nose.

He sat back in his office chair and glanced at the tabloid. It was the same one Lilly had waved in his face this morning on her way to work. Having the juiciest of all the coverage of the charity event, it sported the headline “Trouble in Paradise—Already?”, which was set over a montage of three photos of him and Lilly laid out in timeline fashion.

The first was of him kissing her on the dance floor. He studied it critically. They looked very much in love, despite the fact they hadn’t talked in days. The second was of Lilly falling off the runway into Taylor’s arms. His mouth tightened. That he’d like to forget. The third was a shot of himself restraining the surgeon after he’d thrown that punch.

All in all, fairly damaging.

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “It’s a slow news day.”

Gabe lifted a brow at him. “What the hell happened? Fisticuffs aren’t usually your style—although lately I have to say you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

Riccardo spread his fingers in an expressive gesture. “He threw a punch.”