LITMIR.BIZ

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gave him a silky look. “My wife and I and our personal life are none of your business. Accept the fact that you never stood a chance, Taylor.”

      Harry’s face turned bright red. Lilly stared as a man who never lost control balled his hand into a fist and sent it arcing toward her husband’s face. Riccardo’s reflexes, honed by years as a competitive athlete, were lightning-fast and he caught the other man’s wrist in his hand before it connected.

      Light exploded around them. Lilly looked up to see a half-dozen cameras pointed at them. Oh, my God. How could this be happening?

      “Guys,” she pleaded, pulling on Riccardo’s arm. “Stop.”

      Her husband dropped his hand away but stayed toe to toe with Harry. “You come near my wife again and I will take you apart piece by piece.”

      Harry lifted his chin. “You don’t scare me, De Campo. You—”

      “Harry!” Lilly had the hysterical thought that if he’d acted more like this—more manly, more aggressive—he might have done it for her. She took a deep breath and gave both men a level look. “We are leaving. Goodnight, Harry.”

      * * *

      Riccardo drove home like he was on a racecourse instead of in the middle of Manhattan, and was shocked when no police officer appeared to pull him over. Lilly was out of the car and flouncing up the walkway before he came to a complete stop in their driveway, but she’d forgotten he was the only one with keys and had to cool her heels while he parked and strolled leisurely up to the door. She stood back while he inserted his key and pushed it open, then swept by him, her head held high, fury in her hazel eyes. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she charged upstairs without another word.

      His own safety valve about to blow, he walked into his study and poured himself a Scotch. “I don’t think Riccardo is the right guy for you...” Taylor’s smug pronouncement: “I’m always here if you need me.” His blood burned in his veins, snaking through him like a river of fire. Taylor was there in the wings, waiting for her. Waiting for him to screw up. And what had he done to deserve it?

      He took a swig of Scotch and stifled the urge to go back there and finish Taylor off. He was the only man Lilly was ever going to run to. He knew it and she knew it.

      It was time he proved it to her.

      He downed the Scotch in two gulps, slammed the glass down on the sideboard and took the stairs to their bedroom two at a time. When he arrived in the doorway Lilly was standing in front of the closet, her shoes in her hands. He sucked in a breath. She had taken her dress off and stood there in a very sexy, very skimpy lacy white panties and bra.

      Desire slammed into him, hot and hard.

      Lilly flicked her gaze over him, her cat eyes wary and defiant. “Get out.”

      He shook his head and leaned back against the door frame. “I don’t think so.”

      Her eyes grew larger—big, bottomless pools of amber and green he could lose himself in. Her spine stiffened as she turned fully to face him. She was afraid of him, and with a savage inner growl he acknowledged that he didn’t care.

      He moved toward her, his steps slow and purposeful. “I warned you not to talk to him.”

      She planted her hands on her hips. “I fell off that runway because you insisted I model that dress. Harry just wanted to see if I was okay.”

      His mouth twisted. “He wanted to remind you he’s still around.”

      “Good thing he was, or who would have caught me?”

      She knew her mistake the minute he stepped in to trap her against the door. “You think I’m never there for you, Lilly? Well, here I am.”

      He could hear her agitated breathing, see the confusion and fire that swirled in her eyes. “Go to hell,” she blazed, her shoulders pressing back into the door.

      “I’d rather go down on you,” he murmured, sliding the back of his hand over her rosy cheek. “I know how sweet you taste, tesoro. How much you love it when I— Ah—” He caught the hand she swung at him and twisted it behind her back. “Don’t do that.”

      She bit out a curse and fought against his hold, but he held her firm. “Dammit, Riccardo, let me go.”

      He dropped her hand and stepped in closer, until his body was pushed up against hers. “Time to talk in the only way we know how.”

      She squirmed against him as he imprinted her with his brand of honesty—the hard, throbbing truth of his lust, which was quickly sending him over the edge. But she wasn’t being very convincing and he could hear how her breathing had quickened.

      “Give it up, Lilly,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers. “We both know how this is going to end.”

      She said something against his lips and he replied with a hard, bruising kiss that was about control, not pleasure. She’d always liked it when he dominated, and he knew that hadn’t changed.

      She pressed her lips mutinously shut as he slid his tongue against the crease and demanded entry. Smiling at that, he trailed his hand down over the newly voluptuous curves of her breasts, over the nipple that jutted through the lacy material that covered her, and rolled the hard nub between his fingers. She made a sound low in her throat and twisted against him, but it wasn’t the movement of a woman who wanted to go anywhere. Her eyes were closed and her lips had softened, and when he swept his thumb over the hard tip and made it come to full erectness she sagged against him.

      Melted into him.

      He buried his hands in the thick swath of hair at the nape of her neck. Then he kissed her again, and this time she opened for him and let him take the kiss deeper, into an achingly intimate caress that told her exactly what he wanted to do to her with his tongue and with his body.

      The broken sound that came from her throat told him the battle had been won.

      “Basta,” he murmured. “Enough denying ourselves what we both want.”

      Lilly pressed her hands back against the door as he ran his palm down the trembling flatness of her stomach. “Ric—”

      He slid his hand underneath the silk that covered her and his fingers delved into the hot cleft between her thighs. She gasped and arched against his hand. A primal surge of heat flashed through him. She was wet—oh, so wet for him—and he nearly lost it right there. But he savagely yanked back his control and stilled his fingers to growl, “Tell me you love it when I touch you, tesoro.”

      She nodded, but kept her eyes shut.

      “Say it.”

      “Dammit, yes. Please—”

      “And I’m the only man who’s ever going to touch you like this?”

      She moaned her assent. Satisfied, he slid his fingers against the warm silk of her and indulged his craving to touch her in every way possible.

      Her sudden intake of breath and her hands against his chest took him off guard.

      “Get your hands off me.”

      He drew back. “Lil—”

      “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Her voice rose in furious accusation. “Control. You being the only one to ever have me. Me doing what you want.”

      He frowned. “You were as into that as I was.”

      “I was being stupid. Stupid. How could I forget what this is all about? You—always you, Riccardo.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “Claiming what’s yours.”

      “You’re being ridiculous.”

      Her eyes glittered. “No, I’ve finally got my head back. Lord forbid I forget to keep my eye on the prize. You certainly haven’t.”

      He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

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