Ruthless Revenge: Sweet Surrender: Seducing His Enemy's Daughter / Surrendering to the Vengeful Italian / Soldier Under Siege

‘I don’t want your sympathy.’ The words emerged through gritted teeth. ‘I refuse to accept it.’

Ella shook her head and shut her eyes. When she opened them again her expression was guarded and there was a wry twist to her lips.

‘I’m sorry for the little boy you once were.’ She lifted one hand to his face, her palm warm against his locked jaw. ‘Sorry too for the lost teenager, trying to get back to his mother.’

‘I was never lost. I knew exactly where I was.’ Though, he admitted silently, he’d lost his way when grief and anger had erupted. When the keening sense of loss had been too much to bear.

Ella’s hand shifted to stroke his scar. It wasn’t the first time she’d touched it. But this time she did it with such deliberation his breath sucked in.

‘Don’t worry, Donato. I know you don’t need my sympathy now. You’re big and bold and formidable. You’re dangerous in ways most men wouldn’t dare to be, and most women dream of.’ Her lips tilted in a tiny secret smile that made something flip and twist in his belly.

Her hand dropped and Donato swallowed hard rather than ask her to touch him again. The sensation of her light caress on his cheek lingered, as if she’d marked him.

‘Good.’ He nodded briskly. ‘Just so you understand, I don’t need pity. My needs are far simpler.’ He lifted his hand to her breast again, his touch demanding, almost rough.

Inevitably, satisfyingly, Ella arched into his touch, her eyes alive with the same blaze of hunger consuming him.

Donato plundered her lips, taking her mouth in a kiss that held nothing tentative or gentle. It was a marauder’s kiss. The kiss of a man taking what he wanted. A kiss that was hungry and not at all tender. A kiss to banish pity.

Yet, if he’d meant to frighten her into drawing away, he couldn’t have been more mistaken. Ella matched him all the way, nipping at his bottom lip, grabbing at his hair, clinging with hands and hips and her lovely long legs wrapped tight around him.

His heart thundered as with one single thrust he entered her, anchoring her to the bed so she couldn’t move unless he permitted it.

Triumph rose. He had her on his terms and it felt like heaven.

Except something had changed. Something about the way she accepted his weight, his hunger, his avoidance of anything like tenderness.

Or was it something in him that had changed?

Donato didn’t know. But suddenly he was tearing his mouth away, lifting his head to stare down at her. He catalogued her swollen lips and the reddened marks where his unshaven chin had scraped her soft flesh. Shame hit. He’d been too rough.

Her chin lifted, daring him to read any sentiment in her expression. In that moment Donato understood that, despite what he’d implied, it wasn’t just sex he wanted from Ella.

‘Is there a problem?’ Her eyebrows arched as if she were challenging him as she had that first night, instead of lying beneath him, her velvety warmth making it almost impossible to think.

‘No problem at all, mi preciosa niña.’

He’d work out exactly what it was he wanted from Ella, given time. He’d find a way to deal with this sense of needing yet more. Didn’t he conquer every challenge?

If he’d been thinking straight he’d have realised weeks ago that with Ella he wanted more than simple carnal satisfaction. He wanted her company, her mind, her humour and her infuriatingly independent attitude. And yes, even her tenderness.

‘Donato?’ She frowned and concern flickered across her face. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip as if to stop herself asking more.

Guilt smote. Was he really so insecure he couldn’t cope with a little sympathy from a beautiful woman? From his lover? He’d behaved like a vulnerable kid, not the self-assured man he was.

‘Tell me what you want, cariño.’ He palmed her cheek, dragging his thumb over her reddened lips and planting a tiny kiss there. Instantly she kissed him back, the sweet caress of her mouth on his filling him with relief.

Had he really worried she wouldn’t respond after his rough treatment?

No, he realised in a moment of blinding clarity, he’d feared she’d stop caring.

Donato’s heart crashed against his ribs but he held himself still, forcing air through cramped lungs.

‘You, Donato. That’s what I want.’ Ella kissed him again, then lay back waiting.

‘That I can provide.’ His voice was a rumble, gruff like distant thunder as he moved within her. Using iron willpower he kept his movements measured. He watched her face flush and her eyes shine as she moved with him, sinuous, sleek and mind-blowingly sexy.

Her sweet-nectar scent was rich in his nostrils. Her ripe body was everything he could desire. But even better was the expression in her eyes. Though she veiled it with a half-lidded look, he read tenderness there. Caring. And his heart swelled.

He cradled her face as he quickened his movements, feeling her ripple of arousal encompass him. She clasped her hands behind his neck, anchoring him. Her breath came in little quivering sighs, shorter and deeper the faster he moved.

‘Like that?’ He held her gaze, loving the way hers suddenly widened as he found that sweet spot and she convulsed around him, drawing him tight and hard.

As he watched, the blue-grey of her eyes morphed almost to pure silver, a burst of brightness that stole his breath. His name was a tender groan from those beautiful lips as she bucked high, her hands clutching as if scared he’d let her go.

Heat and light and wonder filled him as she drew him to the brink of ecstasy. He wanted her as he’d wanted no other woman. And he revelled in being wanted by her.

Then thought spiralled away, a fraying thread undone by white-hot pleasure as he fell into that silvery starburst and joined her in oblivion.

The sky had grown dark, the air sultry in anticipation of an evening thunderstorm, when they finally stirred. Ella was sprawled over him, her lips at his throat, her breasts against his chest. He wallowed in the skin to skin contact, the warm weight of her.

Desire stirred and with it something new.

He’d been wary of sharing his history because keeping his mouth shut was ingrained. His mother had spoken Spanish to him because it was her native language, but also to keep him apart from the people she mixed with. He hadn’t been fluent in English till he went to school. They’d been a team, a pair against the world. Since losing her Donato had devoted his life to improving himself, building success upon success. That took dedication, single-mindedness and the ability not to be distracted by beautiful women.

Ella was the first to hear his story and he’d expected shock and disgust.

Yet she’d dumbfounded him. Instead of outrage he’d found understanding. Instead of disgust there’d been sympathy and support, and tears in her eyes as she’d held him. He’d felt her emotions rise—not excitement but tenderness and concern. Greedily he’d wanted to snatch it all for himself. Not because the past still pained him, but because he felt...different because of Ella’s concern.

‘We need to talk.’ Her husky words surprised him. Usually the last thing Ella wanted in his bed was to talk.

Did she want to rehash his past? Delve into the nitty-gritty detail? Instantly his lassitude disintegrated.

‘What do you want to talk about?’

Ella planted her hands on his chest and raised her head, looking down at him. Her hair was a froth of dark honey silk and her lips were the colour of crushed strawberries. She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly bedded.

Donato’s arms tightened as possessiveness sideswiped him. He didn’t want any other man seeing her like this. Ever.

She smiled, that teasing tilt of the lips that he felt in the hollow place at the base of his belly.

‘No need to be so wary. I wasn’t going to pry.’

Was he that obvious? Donato frowned.

‘Okay then. What is it?’

The smile slipped off her face and she looked away. ‘My father.’

Now this was a first. Ella talking about her family, and especially her father, without prompting?

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