Reckless Nights in Rome

  Chapter Eleven

  There was nothing worse than being confused.

  Nico had been the perfect host Bronte mused as he drove her home. Insisting on dancing every dance and holding her close, just not too close. As if he wanted to give her a bit of space to recover from her earlier turmoil.

  Yet she still felt hurt. And why shouldn't she? Yes, she'd been the one to put a halt to their intimacy, but he hadn't put up much of a fight, had he? One minute he was all over her the next he held back. It wasn't every day she had an earth shattering kiss.

  She slanted a look at him.

  His hard jaw was firm, his attention fully focused on the road ahead. The Bentley slid into her driveway and he brought it to a stop outside her door and turned off the engine.

  Fingers tapping the steering wheel Nico didn't look at her as they sat in silence.

  Bronte decided to make an effort.

  "Would you like a coffee?" And hoped she didn't sound pathetic and desperate.

  He appeared not to have heard her, his attention riveted straight ahead.

  Okay, it was better to find out that someone was moody ahead of time. She'd simply draw a line under this evening and put it down to experience.

  Her hand fumbled for the door handle as she struggled to keep her voice cool and unconcerned.

  "Well, thank you for an interesting evening."

  She turned to leave and his hand lay heavy on her shoulder.

  "We need to talk." His deep voice was stiffly polite.

  Frowning, Bronte stared at him.

  His face was blank as he studied the steering wheel as if it held the answer to world peace.

  "I'm listening," she told him, nudging him along.

  "I do not know what to do about you."

  "You've lost me."

  "I cannot alienate Alexander. He is my friend. He will not approve if we have a relationship and things are already tense between you."

  Irritation with her brother and with Nico made her voice harsh.

  "My brother does not run my life. Although he's doing his level best to interfere in every single thing. If anything happens between us, Nico, we should be adult enough to deal with it." And she hoped to God she could take her own advice.

  "I am not like you." Clenching his jaw, he stared into the night.

  She blinked, trying to read his hard features.

  "Okay."

  Then he turned to her and took a huge breath.

  "Unlike you, I was not born with certain privileges. I have seen things that you can never imagine. I am not a man who needs or wants a wife, children or commitment. I am committed to myself and my business. That is it."

  He took her hand and furious grey eyes glared into hers.

  Her brows winged into her hairline.

  "That's it?"

  Studying her hand, he frowned, his finger stroking the sensitive soft skin of her palm. The move sent hot sizzles of awareness to every erogenous zone in her body.

  "You must understand I cannot give you what you need."

  "And you're the expert on what I need?"

  She removed her hand from his. And read doubt, confusion in his dark eyes. Well, that made two of them. What made him think she wanted anything more than a fling?

  "Nico, I don't see you as husband or even boyfriend material. Frankly, you would be the last man I would choose as a life partner if I wanted one. And you don't have to do anything about me. I'll decide if and when I want to take a man, not just you, to my bed."

  She almost laughed out loud at his expression. God, this conversation was so liberating, she should have put her cards on the table years ago and saved herself all the heartache. Why the indignant look of outrage? He seemed to have been rendered speechless in fact, so she ploughed on.

  "I don't want complications either. Believe me, my life is complicated enough." She shrugged in a way she hoped would show him she was a woman of the world and well used to dealing with this kind of situation.

  Bronte gathered her courage.

  "I'm attracted to you. Call it an itch if you like."

  She patted his hand.

  "An Itch?" He stared at her hand in amazement.

  And told herself she must have imagined the fury in his voice.

  On a roll now and enjoying herself, Bronte sat back.

  "Absolutely. And if you would like to ...."

  The rest of the sentence was lost as his mouth punished hers.

  This time there was no softness no seduction.

  Nico took, he demanded and she was with him all the way.

  When he raised his head he looked as if he wanted to strangle her.

  "Get out of the car." The tone was harsh and his accent stronger as he thrust open the door.

  He stalked around to her side, hauled her out and marched her to the door.

  Stunned, upset and absolutely furious, Bronte twisted futilely in his strong grip.

  He was angry because she agreed with him? Typical! One rule for the male and one rule for the female.

  "Let go of me! You're so typical of the type of man who expects the little woman to be sitting panting by the phone waiting for him to call. Well let me tell you I'm not one of those doormats you can wipe your feet on. You're being ridic..."

  He held up a finger.

  She received the warning in those dark eyes loud and clear and closed her mouth with a snap almost giving herself lock-jaw.

  Just who the hell did he think he was?

  Hot tears blurred her vision.

  She fumbled her keys, dropping them in the porch.

  With a harsh expletive Nico picked them up and plunged the key into the lock.

  Heart thundering in her ears Bronte felt torn between excitement and terror as he thrust her through the door.

  Nico kicked it shut, threw the keys onto the hall table. A single lamp lit his face. Sheer temper glittered in his eyes. Her wrap was torn from her shoulders.

  Nico tugged off his jacket, tossing it on a chair and grabbed her. Hot and demanding his mouth plundered, ravished hers. God, it was terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

  His body slammed hers against the door. Bronte couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Panic, desire and excitement whirled in her mind. His tongue forced its way into her mouth replicating the thrust of mating and she moaned as her mind was wiped clean.

  Ruthlessly his knee spread her legs, his thigh pressing against her centre. Rough hands pulled down the straps of her dress as he burned a trail of hot hard kisses down her throat.

  Nico groaned, exposing her breasts as she gasped in excited shock. That mouth suckled and teeth tugged a too sensitive nipple, sending waves of liquid heat between her thighs. She trembled uncontrollably as he lifted her dress above her waist. Big strong hands cupped the cheeks of her bare bottom, kneading the soft flesh.

  And Bronte froze. "No!"

  Her frantic cry reverberated around the hall like a gunshot.

  Chest heaving Nico immediately released her and stepped back. Her face was deathly pale. Eyes blinking, Bronte's slim fingers trembled on swollen lips and he recognised shock when he saw it.

  Self disgust roiled in his stomach. Christ, what was he doing? But she wanted him. He could taste her arousal, her desire.

  "I thought you were... I thought you wanted..." He couldn't breathe.

  Hands not quite steady, he pulled up the bodice of her dress, smoothed down her skirt.

  Able to move at last, Bronte slapped a hand on his chest.

  Fury surged, thundered in her head and she could only stare into eyes that were darker than night.

  "You thought what? That I'm easy, a slut?"

  "No. I never thought such a thing."

  "Liar." Her breath sobbed in her throat and it infuriated her. "I know I said I had an itch. But I didn't for a moment mean ..." She heaved in an unsteady breath. "You had no right to kiss me, touch me like that."

  Those eyes terrified her. They were too dark now, too intense.

>   "We are attracted to each other. Look at you, your body desires mine," he said in a harsh voice.

  "That doesn't mean I ... that I'm ready to ..."

  She folded her arms across throbbing nipples and realised with dismay that she was near to tears.

  Nico took a steady breath and stepped into her.

  "Cara, I am sorry." Voice soothing, his fingers stroked up and down her arms. "But why do you not wear panties? It was obvious this evening."

  Mortification scorched her face.

  Bronte's fingers clenched as she closed her eyes.

  "How did you ...?"

  "The lights on the dance floor," he told her.

  The room spun and a roaring sounded filled her ears as Nico put a strong arm around her waist.

  "Come, cara, sit down," he said.

  Nico led her into the sitting room and Bronte sank onto the sofa.

  With a low moan she held her head in her hands.

  There must have been over two hundred people there this evening.

  Nausea seized her stomach as a wave of nervous exhaustion overwhelmed her.

  Crouching in front of her with his eyes keen on her face Nico rubbed her hands.

  "Don't worry. You could only tell from the front."

  Bronte rolled her eyes to heaven. So that was why he held her so close to him when they were dancing?

  "Oh well, that's all right then."

  Furious with him, but mostly with herself for being a fool, she glared.

  "But why?" He repeated the question.

  She moaned into her hands.

  "Because of panty line and Rosie said ..." For the love of God too much information Bronte, too much information. She waved her hands in front of her. "Forget it. It's my own fault."

  A hasty cough whipped her head up. Amusement quickly faded from his eyes.

  He found her funny?

  Pride and dignity rode to Bronte's rescue.

  "This whole fiasco is a bad idea. I apologise for giving you the wrong impression." She kept her voice low and her eyes on his.

  Those dark eyes filled to the brim with arousal and desire held hers with an intensity that made her shiver.

  What had she been thinking to get involved with this man? No way did she have the skills required to deal with him. She wasn't sexually experienced enough for him. She didn't understand the nuances or the sophistication of the game. And it was a game to him, she was sure of it.

  Her eyes narrowed as he sent her a slow, sexy smile.

  "It has been a long day, cara mia. You need rest."

  ?