“Grazie. I just can’t shake this odd instinct I have about you two.”

“Ah, you are a matchmaker at heart, cara.”

As the night wore on, she drank more champagne and spoke more boldly and danced with more partners, always careful to walk the edgy line between proper party conduct and having a good time. Soon, Nick gave up trying to engage her in private conversation. He just stood by the bar, drinking Scotch, and staring. His gaze burned into her from across the room, even when hiding behind the barriers of people. As if he laid claim to her, without a word or a touch. The thought made her shiver with pure anticipation. Then she realized she was actually fantasizing about Nick making a scene and dragging her off to seduce her. Like in one of her romance novels.

Sure. Mr. Logical himself. Might as well read science fiction and wait for the aliens to take over the world. That was much more likely.

…

He’d had enough.

Nick was sick and tired of watching her parade around with various men. Sure, she only danced with them. But she’d rarely left Conte’s side, falling into an almost easy banter and level of comfort that pissed Nick off.

Their marriage was supposed to look solid to outsiders. What if the gossip windmill flew regarding the Italian count and Alexa? The waterfront contract would be even stickier, because as he negotiated, he’d fantasize about breaking Mr. Smooth’s pretty boy face.

Oh, yes, he was being logical, all right.

As Nick finished his last drink and placed the glass on the bar, he noted the fiery alcohol heated his blood with a new resolve and stripped away the barriers to the truth.

He wanted to make love to his wife.

He wanted her for real, for just a little while.

And damn the consequences.

He cut off the rational man who screamed at him to back off, wait until morning, and finish up the next months in polite civility.

He crossed the room and tapped her shoulder.

She spun around. Nick deliberately gripped her hand. Surprise flashed across her face, then smoothed away.

“Are you ready?” she asked politely.

“Yes. I think I’m ready for a lot of things.”

She nibbled at her bottom lip, probably wondering if he was drunk. He took the matter under his control to separate Michael from her as quickly as possible.

“Michael, I wonder if you’d be kind enough to call us a cab? I don’t want to risk the drive. I’ll send someone tomorrow to pick up the car.”

The count nodded with graciousness. “Of course. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Nick kept his hand locked on Alexa’s and led her over to the coatroom, determined not to let her out of his sight. In a few hours, she’d be in the only place where she couldn’t get in any trouble. And it wasn’t over any rainbow.

It was in his bed.

She didn’t seem to notice anything had changed between them. Nick watched while she slipped on her coat and said good-bye to her new friends. He was amazed she didn’t suspect tonight was her official wedding night. The secret knowledge made him even more impatient to get out of Conte’s house, where he’d finally seduce her. He’d been crazy to wait this long. He should have known sex was the fastest way to ensure a relationship settled.

The cab arrived and they sped home. She remained silent at his side, stared out the window, and ignored him.

He paid the driver and followed her inside. She hung her coat neatly in the closet and headed up the stairs. “Good night.”

He knew anger was the quickest way to gain her full attention. “Alexa?”

“Yes?”

“Did you sleep with him?”

Her head spun halfway around, reminding him of the little girl from The Exorcist. Her mouth dropped open and a gasp rose to her lips. Fierce satisfaction ripped through him at her response, and the connection between them reignited and caught fire.

“What did you say?”

He took off his own jacket and threw it over the back of the couch. He stood in front of her, hands on hips, and gathered all his power to make her mad as hell. Because he knew through her anger he’d find honesty—the passionate woman she hid from him in her ridiculous belief he didn’t want her.

“You heard me the first time. I wondered if you had time to make it to the bedroom or did Conte just take you against the wall before dessert?”

She ripped in her breath and clenched her fingers into tight fists. “I don’t screw other men or kiss them in public because I have more respect for our marriage than you do. And so does Michael.”

Her immediate defense of Conte made a tight ball of rage twist in the pit of his stomach like a bunch of poisonous snakes. “You let him paw you in front of my business associates.”

“You’re nuts! He was a perfect gentleman. Besides, you were all over Gabriella in a public parking lot!”

“That was different. I pushed her away.”

“Sure, after you stuck your tongue in her mouth. I’m done here.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Not yet.”

She blinked and stepped back. Then looked straight in his eyes and cracked the final whip. “I’m going to bed. You may be able to control who I don’t sleep with, but you don’t have any power over my fantasies.”

Her icy tone contradicted the mocking words pulsing in the air between them.

He broke.

Nick walked toward her with a steady slowness that made her back away for every footstep forward. Her back slammed against the wall when he reached her. Slowly, he splayed his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head. His body caged hers. His wide stance trapped her between his legs.

He bent over and directed his words right against her lips. “If you want sex so bad, all you have to do is ask.”

Her entire body stiffened. “I’m not interested in you.” The wildly beating pulse at her neck contradicted her words.

“Try again.”

“Go play your head games with Gabriella.”

“You want me. Why don’t you finally admit it?”

Fury spat from her in waves. “I don’t want you. I just want your money.”

He realized her ploy had worked before, but tonight he didn’t care.

He closed the distance another tight inch. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and her nipples were hard little points stabbing out of the scarlet material, begging to be freed. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her perfume swamped his senses. He grew hard, and her eyes widened as his full length throbbed against her leg in demand.

“I’m calling your bluff, baby.”

Pure shock registered on her face as he removed one hand from the wall to casually unbutton his shirt, slide off his tie, then grasp her chin with a firm grip.

“Prove it.”

He stamped his mouth over hers, not giving her a chance to think or back off or push him away. He invaded her mouth, plunging his tongue inside the slick, silky cave, then closed his lips around the wet flesh and sucked hard.

She grabbed for his shoulders, and made a little moan deep in her throat.

Then she exploded.

…

Alexa reached up and tangled her fingers into his hair, holding his head as she kissed him back and met demand with demand. Her hips rose up to thrust against him, and his taste and smell invaded her like a drug.

Her skin burned as all the pent up desire she’d buried deep burst out of her body in a flood of heat. She was ravenous for his taste, for his hands to strip off her clothes and take her right there against the wall, and she reveled in his wild response that was so opposite his rigid control.

Control.

An alarm bell rang in her head and cut through the mist of sexual fog. He’d been drinking. If they were interrupted, he might calmly step away with a reasonable explanation to why sex would not be a good idea.

The knowledge he’d done it twice before skated along the edges of her mind, until she dragged her mouth from his and yanked the hair at the nape of his neck.

His head shot up. He blinked as if coming to from a long sleep, and she caught the question held in his eyes. Alexa made herself say the one thing she didn’t want to say.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

She held her breath and waited for him to step back, waited for the fog to clear from his mind, waited for him to agree. She got her second shock of the night when he smiled down at her—a dangerous, masculine smile that promised unspoken pleasures and raw, hungry sex.

“I don’t care.”

He easily tossed her over his shoulder as if she were a china doll instead of an Amazon. With an easy grace, he climbed the stairs and headed straight for her room. Her breasts bounced against his back and her belly was crushed against the hard bone of his shoulder, but she couldn’t dredge up any words to inform him this was ancient caveman behavior and no longer acceptable.

Because Alexa loved every moment.

He tossed her on the bed and finished his strip tease. Unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the floor. Slid the belt buckle from the loops and lowered the zipper. Kicked off his pants in one swift motion. All of this was done as she sprawled in the center of the bed and stared at him as if he were her own private Chippendale dancer.

Nope, he was even better.

All lean sinewy muscle and gilded blond hair. Trim hips and hard thighs and an erection that stood proudly between his legs, hidden from view by a pair of black briefs. Her fingers curled into her palms as her fantasy joined her on the bed and settled against her.

“Your turn.” His voice scraped like sandpaper over her ears, one side rough, the other smooth. He reached behind her and slid the zipper down. Her muscles trembled as his hands settled over the spaghetti straps of her dress and stopped. Her breath hitched as seconds beat past, and the heavy weight of his palm pressed against the top of her breasts. Her heart pounded so loud she knew he heard it. Anticipation cranked hard between them until she battled a scream, and then he hooked his index finger underneath the strap and pulled it down.

Oh, God.

Cool air rushed over her skin, but his gaze scorched as he drank in the flesh revealed. Her nipples hardened into points as the silk caught briefly, then continued on its path. He gently maneuvered her arms out of the holes, then moved the fabric even lower, exposing her belly and hips. He stopped and studied every inch of her nakedness with a silent intensity that unnerved her, until she longed to say something but the words died in her throat.

His hands settled on her hips. He grasped the delicate fabric at both sides and began to work it down over her thighs, calves, then tore it away from her sandals and tossed the dress to the floor.

Their breath rose and fell together in an uneven, choppy rhythm. Liquid heat pulsed and pounded between her thighs, masked by the scrap of red panties she had pulled on with no one in mind but herself. But now Nick focused his attention in that direction, still saying nothing, studying the apex of her thighs, his thumb lightly brushing the line of her panties as she sucked in her breath and waited. As if he had all the time in the world, he began to play with the elastic band as if testing its strength. Alexa’s entire focus shrank to those five fingers and the slow torture they bestowed. He explored the crease at her thighs, then traced an invisible line down the center of her body. He watched every reaction in silence, as if she were his love slave and he was a king used to obedience.