An Inheritance of Shame - By Kate Hewitt Page 0,23

looked at him, but in the twilit darkness she couldn’t make out his expression.

She leaned forward and kissed him hard, and his mouth opened under hers even as his hands came up to her shoulders to brace her—or to push her away? She wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him. She heard him groan and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside and claiming her for his own.

Lucia kissed him back, her hands in his hair and then on his shoulders, sliding beneath his shirt to feel the taut, warm skin underneath. She pushed him back onto the beach and his arms came up around her, their legs tangling together in the sand.

She lay on top of him, shuddered as she felt his hands slide under her T-shirt, his thumbs brushing across her breasts. She arched into the caress, shifting so she could feel his arousal pressing against her belly. Angelo kissed her, his mouth moving from her lips to her throat, and then the V between her breasts, the pleasure of his touch so intense it felt almost painful, and yet she still wanted more. Needed more.

With one trembling hand she reached down to undo the button on his jeans. Angelo wrapped his fingers around her own, stilling her hand.

‘Lucia, no. Per favore, not like this.’

‘Yes, like this,’ she shot back fiercely. ‘Exactly like this.’

He shook his head. ‘You are sad, grieving—’

‘And you were sad and grieving the last time we slept together, Angelo. It helped, didn’t it? I helped you forget for a moment.’ He stilled, his hand still wrapped around hers, but his grip had slackened and she pushed his hand away, undid his zip. She stroked the hard length of his erection through the silk of his boxers. ‘Help me forget,’ she whispered. ‘Help me forget, even if just for a moment.’ She stroked him again, saw him close his eyes, his jaw clenched.

‘If you want me to make love to you, I will,’ he said raggedly. ‘But not here, on the hard sand.’

She let out a wild, trembling laugh. ‘Have you become so particular, in the past seven years?’ Her creaky, sagging bed had been the setting for their last encounter; he hadn’t complained. He hadn’t said anything at all.

‘Come back to the villa,’ he said, and he rose from the sand, buttoning up his jeans before reaching for her hand. Reluctantly Lucia took it. Now that the rawness of the moment had eased she was conscious of how much she’d revealed, from the confessions she’d sobbed out to the tears on her cheeks, and the shameless, desperate way she’d reached for him. Yet even so she still wanted him. Needed what he could give, if just for this one night.

They walked in silence back along the beach, up the stairs to the veranda and then inside to the sterile stillness of the villa. Angelo turned around to face her, his expression watchful, guarded, and Lucia knew he’d suggested they return to the villa not because he had a preference for satin sheets but because he wanted to give her time to change her mind.

Well, she wouldn’t. He’d turned to her for comfort and pleasure once; she’d do the same to him. Maybe then it would feel finished between them, a final, equal exchange. Maybe then she could move on.

She lifted her chin. ‘Where’s the bedroom?’

Surprise flared silver in his eyes and his mouth quirked in a small smile. ‘You are constantly amazing me.’

She ignored the warmth that flared through her at his praise. ‘Don’t patronise me, Angelo.’

‘Trust me, I am not. Perhaps tragedy has made you stronger, Lucia, for you have far more spirit now than I ever gave you credit for when we were children.’

‘Yes, I do.’ Tragedy had made her stronger. She was glad he saw it. ‘The bedroom,’ she prompted, and he smiled faintly even as he watched her, still wary.

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘A decision like this should not be made in the heat of the moment—’

‘And it’s not the heat of the moment right now,’ she answered. Still he stared at her, his eyes dark and considering.

‘I don’t,’ he finally said in a low voice, ‘want to hurt you.’

Lucia swallowed past the ache his words opened up inside her. He’d hurt so many times in the past, but this time it would be different.

‘You won’t,’ she said. This time she wouldn’t let him. She knew what she wanted, what to expect. This