Wife By Force(52)

Panting, he slumped, his fingers loosening their grip on her skin.

She tucked her head into the hot, sweaty notch of his neck and shoulder,   listening to the slam of his heart inside his ribs. With a gentle   touch, she smoothed her hands across his shoulders and chest, listening   as his pulse slowed, his breathing recovered. Was it the time to tell   him she loved him? The words trembled and surged in her mouth.

Her brain zinged into action.

First apologize.

Yes. First make things right. Then …

"Dante."

One of his broad palms slipped along her spine and down to her butt, an almost absentminded touch. "Si?" His voice was quiet.

Pushing herself straight, she stared at him. The hook of his nose she   used to think of as arrogant, yet now was so dear to her. The line of   his jaw she used to believe showed his overbearing pride, now only   seemed absolutely right for him. And his eyes, his beautiful dark eyes.   She wanted to see love for her in those eyes.

But his eyes were still closed.

"Look at me."

Thick lashes lifted, but shielded his thoughts.

"I'm sorry." The pleasure of their sex started to slide away, replaced with bubbling anxiety.

The edges of his lips tightened, and his gaze took on a wary slant. "I don't want-"

"You must listen to me." She held his head in her grasp. "I felt smothered and confused. For a moment."

His mouth twisted.

"Not by you," she admitted, trying to make him understand. "By my past."

The wariness left his eyes, replaced by reluctant interest. "Tell me what you mean."

Taking a deep breath, she dove in. "My last marriage-"

"Ah." His tone turned wry. "The sins I have been paying for."

"Yes," she grimaced. "You were right about that."

Grunting, he began to rub his hands up and down her sides, and that gave her hope.

"When Gerry found out … " She stumbled to a stop. She'd never found it   easy admitting this piece of herself. In her head, she knew it was   nothing to be ashamed of. But in her heart, she still remembered Gerry's   reaction when he'd found out after their marriage. Shock and then a   smug superiority. The superiority had slowly taken over her life.

"Found out?" Dante's low tone stopped her rambling thoughts.

"I'm dyslexic." She couldn't help that her voice had turned brittle and hard.

His broad, sweat-soaked shoulders moved in the characteristic way he had that always made her tingle. "So?"

"He … he thought less of me."

Eyes narrowing, his dark lashes hid the expression she so wanted to see. Understanding.

"He thought of me as a kind of child after that."

His fingers tightened on her skin. "Idiot."

The one word freed her laugh. Freed her from the past, filling her with quiet pleasure and peace. "Yes, he was."

"I'm starting to get the picture." His voice held a hard thread of   violence in it. "I am glad for his sake he is no longer in the land of   the living."         

     



 

Laughing once more, she ran her hand through the strands of dark curls   lying at the edge of his ears. "Thank you for the thought."

"So, he thought of you as a child-"

"And treated me like a child," she finished for him.

"Bastardo."

"Yes." She brushed his ears with her fingers. "I kept thinking it would   get better, that he would learn what dyslexia was actually about and   change. But he didn't. He only got worse and worse."

"More and more … " His words slowed, then stopped.

"Controlling."

The black deepness of his stare seemed to reach out to her, surrounding her. With understanding. "I see."

"Do you?"

"Si," his hands tightened on her skin and his mouth turned down. "I remind you of him."

She cupped his jaw in her hands and dared to look into his somber visage. "At first, yes."

"Ah." He tried to tug his head from her grasp.

She sensed his emotional withdrawal, but kept her grip on his hard jaw and her wavering confidence. "But not at this point."

He froze. His dark lashes lay like black fans on his pale skin. He said nothing, waiting, almost as if for a blow. Another blow.

Lara's conscience ached at what she'd done to this man, how she'd   spilled her past pain onto their relationship and hurt him. "Not now,   Dante. Not now."

Abruptly, he glanced up. Stared into her eyes with a stark look of misery. "What do you think of me then?"

Tell him you love him.

Her heart screamed the words, yet her head and confidence shuddered.   Would he believe her? Would he believe such a quick turnaround from   where she'd been when she'd seen him again for the first time? Wouldn't   it be preferable to build toward the confession rather than blurting it   out right now?

He gave her a hoarse laugh. "Perhaps it's better I don't know."

"No." She smoothed her hands across his cheeks. Would he see what she   couldn't say, in her eyes? "What I know is you are nothing like Gerry."

His mouth turned grim and he glanced away.

"Dante." She kept running her hands over him, trying to soothe. "Gerry destroyed me. You make me feel alive."

His fingers relaxed on her hips and his gaze flew to meet hers again.

"Really." She managed a small smile. "I want you to know I have put   Gerry and that life behind me once and for all and you won't be-we won't   be-saddled with that baggage anymore."

His lips firmed, his dark eyes filling with pride for her. "I'm proud of   you. It takes a woman of courage to come through what you did."

His total and absolute support was a balm to her soul. "You honestly don't mind that I'm dyslexic, do you."

He frowned. "Why the hell should I?"

A shrug was the only answer she could come up with because a well of   instant tears cluttered her throat. He truly didn't care. He truly did   accept her as she was. He actually wasn't anything like Gerry.

"Bella." He pinned her with a determined stare. "You are a remarkably   intelligent woman. You've done incredible things with your school. I   have great respect for you."

"Well-"

"Which I've told you again and again." His tone was slightly irritated.   "I don't have protection on you because I think of you as a child."

"I know."

Her short sentence stopped him. His wary stare bored into hers. "You understand my motivation is one of concern, not control?"

"Yes."

He grunted a male reply and kept staring at her face.

"Please accept my apology," she whispered through the love for this man clogging her throat.

"All right." A faint smile curved his lips. "How can a man say no to such a persuasive argument?"

His wry humor shocked the tears away and she chuckled. "I had to do something to get your attention."

"You were successful." One warm male palm began to move over her skin. "I'm glad we've put this issue behind us."

She gazed into his eyes with all the emotion in her heart. "I am too."



* * *



"I have nothing to wear."

Dante's chuckle was his only response.

Lara walked along the long line of dresses she'd accumulated over the   past couple of months. There were more clothes here than she'd ever   dreamed of owning, which had more to do with her husband's continual   purchases than her own. For some reason, he seemed to find enormous   pleasure in contributing not only to her collection of lingerie, but   now, to her outer-wear as well.         

     



 

His focus perplexed her.

Why would a man who ran a billion dollar corporation want to spend time   shopping for her? Still, he kept coming home with more and more. Almost   every day she found some present on the bed, on the kitchen table,   hanging in her walk-in closet …

She spotted the plastic-covered dress at the end of the row. "Dante."

"Yes?" His low voice rumbled from the bathroom.

"You didn't." Slipping off the plastic, she nearly gasped at the sight   of the gown. This was more than usual. Green silk slithered in her hand,   the fabric covered with a web of fine crystal that shone and twinkled   when the light hit it.

Her husband's tall figure appeared at the door, a small tilt to his mouth. "I did."

Looking up, she gave an inner sigh of relief. Since their interlude at   his office two weeks ago, things had gone back to normal. Well, almost   normal. They had their customary breakfast together in peace. He came   home most nights at a reasonable time and usually cooked dinner. They   made love every night. If every once in a while she caught an odd look   from him, if every once in a while a shadow passed through his black   eyes, if every once in a while he became quiet and withdrawn … well, it   didn't happen often and it would eventually pass, wouldn't it?