Page 48 of One Night With Her Forgotten Husband

‘Oliver is simply anice man.’ Something she’d actually begun to believe Angelo might be. ‘He saw I wasn’t really comfortable and kept me company. Plus he was interested from a professional perspective in my amnesia, said it would make a great story premise.’

For once Ally hadn’t minded talking about her predicament, especially as Oliver’s interest made it seem, for a short time, more like an intellectual puzzle than a frightening disaster.

She’d been grateful for his company. Earlier she’d been fine with Angelo beside her, but when he got caught up in conversation she’d felt out of her depth among all those sophisticated people. Even wearing the only dress she had that seemed suitable for a party, she’d felt self-conscious and it was only partly due to the amount of bare skin her dress revealed.

‘We both know your weakness fornice men, don’t we, Alexa? How you like to use them to get what you want.’

On a surge of energy Ally stepped away, crossing her arms and scowling up at him. She hated being called Alexa and he knew it.

‘If you mean yourself, Angelo Ricci, then you’re wrong. You’re not at all nice.’

‘Excellent.’ His smile was a baring of teeth. ‘Then I don’t have to feel guilty about this.’

He was in her space again, his body flush with hers, his arm looped around her back as his gleaming gaze captured hers.

Ally heard a whoosh of breath as her breasts rose on a sharp intake against his hard chest. Or was that the sound of a conflagration igniting inside her?

Heat engulfed her, flames licking higher as she absorbed the sensation of his powerful thigh muscles against hers and his torso pressing close.

She should be intimidated by his size and strength, by the fact that they stood flush against each other, with nowhere to hide.

Instead Ally revelled in it. In every glorious centimetre of arrogant masculinity crammed up against her.

The truth hit her in an instant of stunning acknowledgement.

Thiswas what she’d craved for the past week.

This and more.

She wasn’t intimidated by him. Not a bit of it. She was challenged and she wasn’t in the mood to back down. Or deny herself. She’d felt herself growing stronger by the day, but along with her recovery had come an ever-increasing need. For Angelo.

Ally grabbed the lapels of his jacket, tugging hard. As if that could shift him!

Yet remarkably he did move, his face lowering, centimetre by achingly slow centimetre, until his warm breath feathered her lips.

‘There’s no point trying to seduce me,’ he rumbled. ‘I know you and I’m awake to your schemes.’

Ally laughed. The sound was harsh as he reminded her of her unenviable situation. That almost everything she knew about herself came from Angelo Ricci.

But he didn’t know everything. He had it wrong when he thought her attracted to Oliver Branston. It wasthisman, this darkling fallen angel who attracted her.

She was tired of feeling weak and unsure. Of letting others dictate what she should do and taking responsibility for her.

Out of nowhere, or more probably out of a week of fear, despair, fragile hope and bitter disappointment, rose a confidence born of the knowledge this man protested too much.

‘You’re immune to me? Is that it?’

Ally lifted one hand to the back of his neck and urged his head down.

There was no resistance, though his eyes glittered brighter.

His mouth met hers and there was a moment of stillness. Ally felt an invisible shockwave shudder through her. An amazing instant of recognition and anticipation.

A second later there was a surge of movement and she found herself pushed up against something solid. A wall? The door? She didn’t care. All she cared about was that it anchored her against Angelo’s tall frame as a tumult of sensations bombarded her.

His tongue slid deep, his mouth turning a kiss into an act of possession. His hands roving her taut frame, creating shudders of delight wherever he touched.

Ally rolled her head back to give him better access to her mouth, at the same time taking the offensive, kissing him with all the pent-up passion that had brewed for a week.

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