Emmanuelle touched her tongue to her lips, already tasting him. Val had always been so masculine. Cedar and rain. A blend of leather and woods. Just his scent had set her body on fire when she would get near him. Now he smelled of those scents, along with gunpowder, blood and alcohol from all the cleanup they’d done on him. It didn’t matter; he was still as sexy to her as ever.
His palm tightened around the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. The pressure was slow but steady. She just let him. Surrendering. Because that’s what she did when she was with Valentino. Heart pounding. Stomach doing mad loops. Breasts aching. Nipples hard. Sex clenching.
His lips were gentle on hers. Nibbling. Teeth tugged with exquisite gentleness at her lower lip. He kissed the corner of her mouth. His lips were velvet soft on her upper lip, then his teeth bit down harder on her lower lip and tugged until she gasped. His tongue slid over the tiny sting, soothing it.
His lips shaped hers. Coaxed. She opened for him, and his tongue swept in. Ruthless. Merciless. Took her over. Fire reigned. Poured into her. Bright, hot sparks lit up her world. Lit his. They came together in a firestorm of such intensity they could have lit the world up. The flames ran up and down every neural path in their bodies, spreading out to connect between them, running back and forth, feeding their hunger for each other, keeping it raging between them.
Val slid one hand into her hair, closing a possessive fist in the thick, silken strands, to position her head to take fuller advantage. At the same time, he urged her closer to him, bringing her almost right onto his lap. She slid her arms up his chest, careful of his bandages, needing to feel him solid and real under her palms. Skin to skin. The kisses went on and on. The fire roared hotter.
Dario cleared his throat loudly. “For fuck’s sake, you two.”
His voice was like a bucket of cold water dousing Emmanuelle. She stepped back, or tried to. It was impossible with Val’s fingers fisting in her hair so tight. He refused to let her go, his green eyes moving over her face, noting her heightened color and the guilt in her eyes, no doubt. She didn’t try to hide it from him. What was the use?
With shaky fingers, she touched her burning lips. “We can’t do that.”
“We have to do that. I’ll go out of my mind if we don’t do that, Emme. What do you think it’s been like for me these last two years, thinking about you going out of the country, so far from me, where I can’t protect you? I tried to keep men on you, but you disappear so easily. My only consolation was, if I couldn’t find you, then Miceli probably couldn’t, either. I did my best to mislead him into thinking you didn’t matter to me, but then I couldn’t stay away from you. Vittorio had to beat the crap out of me at the meeting between our families. I knew why. I knew you told him about finding Marge and overhearing what was said. I let him hit me. I deserved whatever he wanted to dish out, but Miceli noticed I didn’t really defend myself and I didn’t let Dario interfere.”
She lifted her palm to frame his jaw, her heart turning over. She didn’t want to love him the way she did. She wanted to keep telling herself that she reacted to him physically because somehow their shadows were tangled together and once she got them apart, she wouldn’t feel the same and neither would he. She knew it wasn’t the truth. Valentino Saldi was forever her choice. In spite of knowing he was heir to the Saldi throne, she knew he was a good man.
“Who the hell is Elie Archambault to you, Emme? Why is he always with you? Touching you? He’s constantly got his hands on you. He even kisses you.” There was heat in his voice. Heat in his very direct gaze.
She rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t kiss me.”
“He kisses you. I told you, I can feel it every time a man touches you, and he’s always with you and he’s always touching you. You go clubbing with him. Tonight, you were with him while I was getting my ass shot off.”
That was a distinct accusation. Emmanuelle dropped her hand from his jaw. He still had his fist threaded through her hair, so there was no going anywhere unless she put up a fight, and the bandages on his body kept her from doing that—at least she told herself that was the reason.
Dario’s head went up, his gaze leaving the screen of his phone. He scowled at them. “That’s probably why you got your ass shot off, you dick. You were paying more attention to your woman than the bastards trying to kill you. Maybe if you actually kept your mind in the game, and quit thinking with your dick, I wouldn’t have had to drag you out of a war zone with you shot all to hell.” His tone, as always, was mild.
Emme pressed her lips together to keep from smirking. No one talked to Val like that but Dario. She used to think Dario was just being mean; now she knew it was just the way they showed affection to each other.
“Shut the fuck up, Dario. I’m interrogating her.”
“Is that what you call it? If it is, you’re going soft.” Dario went back to looking at his screen.
Emmanuelle would have given anything to see what Dario was looking at. She knew he didn’t play games on his phone. What was he scrolling through with that never-ending black scowl on his face?
“Eyes on me, Emme,” Val said. “I want to know who Elie Archambault is. Why is he always with you?”
She made a face. Honesty was always the best policy. “In my family, arranged marriages are normal. Elie’s as well. Elie and I are good friends. We both knew our families were considering putting us together, but we’re more like siblings. It wouldn’t work for us. We were trying to hash things out last night. How we were going to face arranged marriage with strangers when we couldn’t face it with someone we cared about. Time was running out for both of us, so we were just trying to think things through.” She tried to give a casual shrug.
There was a long silence while the room filled with sheer black anger. The tension stretched out until she wanted to scream. She’d known Valentino wouldn’t like the truth, but she wasn’t going to lie to him. She glanced at Dario. Even he was looking at her in pure shock.
“What do you mean, time was running out?” Valentino’s voice was pitched very low. Never a good sign with him. His fingers tightened in her hair.
“I told you, Val. We marry by a certain age in our family. We have certain expectations placed on us. The men and women. If we don’t find the person we want to marry, one is found for us. Arranged marriages are very common. I was very clear.”
“Actually, Princess, you never said one word on this subject. Had you, we would have already been married and your entire family could go to hell. You’re not marrying some stranger. Or Elie Archambault. You need to get married, you can damn well marry me.”
“Such a lovely proposal. You’re so romantic.”
Her phone vibrated alarmingly, and she immediately pulled it from her back pocket and glanced down at the screen. “They’re here. Your uncle’s men. An entire army and then some.” She looked over her shoulder as Val’s fingers eased in her hair. “Dario, you’ve got this?”
He nodded.
She leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Val’s forehead. “Be safe.” She turned and hurried out of the room.
CHAPTER FIVE
How many?” Taviano asked as he peered at the screen over Raimondo Abatangelo’s shoulder. The screen was lit up with what looked like green dots everywhere.