The Sicilian's Passion Read Online Free PDF Page B

pursued the woman, and not the other way round.
    And yet he found himself wondering if the unquestionably strong desire she had aroused in him might have enticed him enough to accept.
    â€˜But you didn’t,’ he stated softly.
    Her eyes met his fearlessly. ‘No, I didn’t.’
    But she had thought about it, he realised with a start. Mulled over the possibility and decided against it. He felt his interest flicker again, for wasn’t that a kind of rejection?
    His eyes narrowed. It was an entirely new sensation for him. No woman had ever rejected him, in any way, shape or form, and Giovanni felt the renewed leap to his senses as the first dull flush of the inevitable made him shrug in wry recognition.
    â€˜I will try not to be too offended at such a blow to my ego,’ he murmured.
    â€˜Oh, thank heavens for that!’ came her sardonic retort. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to sleep nights if you had!’
    He almost smiled, acknowledging that something unknown and forbidden and dangerous was pulsing in the air around them. And that, instead of getting out of here as quickly as possible, he lanced through her emerald gaze with a cool look of challenge. ‘So, aren’t you going to ask me inside, cara ?’And then realised just how shockingly and beautifully potent that question sounded.
    â€˜Inside?’ she repeated slowly, and her mind started to play outrageous tricks on her as she imagined the reality of that simple, one-word request which suddenly sounded like the most erotic proposition imaginable. And didn’t cara mean…darling?
    He heard her momentary hesitation, knew what had prompted it and felt himself grow hard—so hard that he felt he might die with wanting her. But he pinned a lazy smile onto his mouth instead. A smile he didn’t really mean, because the only thing that had any meaning at that precise moment was the need to possess her. A need he knew he should ruthlessly resist, and yet…yet…
    â€˜For a drink?’ He shrugged, as though he could take it or leave it. ‘As a reward for having come out of my way to see you.’
    Some of the tension left her. Some but not all. She forced herself to open the door to him.
    Forced! Just who did she think she was kidding? Why, if she gave into her true feelings right then she would have dragged him in by taking a great swathe of that silk shirt in her fist and drawing him close to her. So close that he would not be able to resist her.
    But he had done her a favour. And wasn’t she in danger of letting this all get a little out of hand? She should invite him into her home and expose herself to a little more of his own distinctive air of arrogance— that was the way to get him right out of her system! ‘A drink?’ She flashed him a bright, polite smile. ‘Of course. Sure. Come in.’
    He walked into her flat and it was as stunning as he had anticipated. He had known that her home would be exquisite, and it was. More than exquisite, it was distinctive. Like her. Strong, bold colours which somehow managed to blend instead of grating on the eye. A mix and match which pleased and excited the senses. Again, like her.
    She had changed, he noted, not for the first time—and now wore an indecently short skirt which showed off her long legs. A little vest-top in cool green cashmere emphasised the firm swell of her breasts and the way her torso tapered down to a delicious, tiny waist.
    He swallowed and his eyes travelled almost with relief to a small table, where a half-drunk glass of wine rested. His mouth curved, he felt glad of the opportunity to disapprove of her again.
    Kate noticed the tiny elevation of the jet-dark brows, felt his disapproval as surely as if it were shimmering in waves of heat off him. He didn’t say anything—but, there again, he didn’t have to. It was written clearly all over the autocratic features.
    Some small inkling of who she