A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [16]
‘Gio, damn you! Please!’
Driven beyond endurance, she pulled her hands out from under his shirt, hearing something rip faintly as she did so. Ignoring it, she reached up and fastened wildly clutching fingers in the midnight-dark silk of his hair, forcing his head down to meet her own upturned face.
At first she felt his resistance, thought she would never overcome it, but just when she was convinced that he had won and a faint whimper of defeat almost escaped her, she made one desperate, final effort, and at last his mouth touched hers.
For a second or two Terrie thought she might actually faint in sensual delight. That the warm, firm caress of Gio’s lips would actually send her tumbling into an oblivion of pleasure, a world in which nothing mattered but herself and this man and the union between them. But then two things happened at once to jolt her back to the present, reality intruding on her with a jarring shock.
At first she was aware only of Gio’s sudden stillness, the swift, disturbing stiffening of his powerful body, the way that his mouth hardened on hers, not in desire, but in a rejection that tore at her heart, slashing a deep wound into it. The other, more mundane event was the creak of the lift, its slowing to a halt, juddering faintly as it reached the fifth floor and stopped.
It was a moment or two before Terrie had collected the composure to realise where they were, drawn in enough breath to mutter, ‘I think this is our floor.’ And even then she realised that she had recovered well before Gio; that he was not anything like as alert as she had been. When she looked into his face he seemed to be only barely conscious, his eyes glazed and unfocused, two vivid flares of colour scoring along the high, wide cheekbones, his breathing raw and uneven.
‘Gio,’ she said again carefully, uncertainly. ‘We’re here. This is my floor.’
Her words invaded his head only slowly, hazily, through the buzzing, burning haze that had invaded his thoughts.
‘Sì,’ he muttered thickly, his voice still rough with the passion that had taken possession of him. ‘Of course.’
Somehow they managed to make their way out of the lift and down the corridor to her room. It seemed that Terrie was as shocked and bewildered by the storm of passion that had assailed them in the lift, certainly if the way that her hand shook when she tried to push her key card into the slot was anything to go by. She tried to manage it twice, failing both times, and on the third attempt actually dropped the card to the floor, giving a cry of frustrated annoyance as she did so.
‘Let me.’
Gio stooped, snatched up the card, taking a much-needed moment to draw breath, still his whirling thoughts, before he straightened up again. But even so he was only marginally more successful when he tried to unlock the door, cursing himself under his breath as his hand wavered betrayingly, and having to grip the card tightly as he rammed it into the slot with unnecessary force.
The size of the bedroom was a shock like a blow in the face. Or, rather, the lack of size of it. He didn’t think he had ever seen such a tiny hotel room in his life.
‘This is it?’ he exclaimed, too stunned to keep the words back. The truth was that he was grateful for some distraction, anything that would divert his mind from the discomfort of his memories of that kiss.
‘This is it,’ Terrie confirmed, an edge of shaken laughter to her voice. ‘What is it, Gio? Are you surprised to see how the other half live?’
‘You paid for this!’
‘We can’t all afford private suites! There is a bathroom…’ Terrie added. ‘Well—of sorts.’
Flicking on the light to demonstrate, she caught sight of their reflection in the large wall mirror and a muffled gasp that was part horror, part giggle escaped her.
‘Would you look at us! Gio—we look… Oh, thank heaven we didn’t meet anyone in the corridor! What would they have thought?’
‘That we’d just escaped from a brawl—or an orgy…