They hurried to the porch. Up close the house was small, old and poorly maintained. Not a safe place to ride out a storm. “If there’s someone in here, they should come into our house. A flood could wash this one away.” She cleared her throat and called, “Hello!”
The dog barked like crazy, straining at its leash, which was a steel cable like a bike lock.
“Is anyone home?” shouted Sandro. He strode up to the door and banged on it with his fist. “Come next door with us. The street’s flooding.”
Serena approached the dog, which had started growling and snarling. “It’s okay, sweetheart, we’re here to help.” She spoke softly, trying not to sound too nervous. Dogs could pick up on that. The steel cord attached to a rusted metal ring screwed into the porch column. “I’ll have to detach it at the collar.” There was a carabiner clip there. “But I need a leash so it doesn’t run off.”
“I’ll grab it.” Sandro rushed over.
“It might bite.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Oddly, the dog quieted, turning submissive as they both loomed over it, and Sandro took it in his firm hands. She unclipped the leash, and he clutched the stunned dog to his chest.
“No one’s home. No lights, no answer,” he said through the rain. “Let’s get out of here.”
The rain and wind together were blinding, and water now lapped at their ankles as they struggled back over the ramshackle picket fence and up across the soggy lawn of the newer house.
Serena battled the wind, trying to get the door closed behind them. When she finally slammed it shut she turned the dead bolt. “The water is rising.” Her voice shook. “What if it gets really deep?”
“This house is sturdy. It’ll hold.” He stroked the dog, which now shivered in the cool air that lingered even though they’d turned the air-conditioning off.
“Let me get a towel.” She grabbed the hand towel from the powder room and quickly ruffled it through the dog’s soggy fur. Now longer growling or even barking, the dog stared at them with wide blue eyes. “I think it’s saying thank you.”
“It should. It could have drowned out there.”
“We should get upstairs.”
“You go on up.” He handed her the dog, which settled into her arms. She expected it to be heavy, but it barely weighed anything. “Let me check on the chicken and potatoes.”
She laughed. She’d forgotten all about them. “Okay. I guess we’ll be having a picnic up there.”
She held the little dog close. He was black and white with longish hair, probably fluffy when dry, and he had big, mournful blue eyes. She’d always wanted a dog when she was little. Her parents were far too sensible to get one. Just like she was too sensible to get one now. A dog was a big responsibility.
She couldn’t believe someone would leave this one out on the porch in a big storm. It had a bowl of water, which the rain had refilled, but she hadn’t seen any food.
The dog sniffed the air. “You can smell that chicken, huh? Well, I bet there will be enough for you, too.” It had a pointed black nose, which it turned up at her, and as she bent down it reached up and licked her face.
She recoiled from its wet tongue but couldn’t help smiling. “Doggy kisses?” Then she whispered, “I think those are safer than the other kind that you rescued me from.”
She looked around. It would make sense to bring all the plates and cups they might need upstairs. “What should we call him? Or is it a her?” She peeked. “He’s a him.”
“I suppose Lucky is too clichéd?” He pulled the chicken out of the oven.
The dog was riveted and drooled on her arm at the smell. “I think it’s perfect. You are Lucky. If you didn’t bark so loud.…” She shuddered at the thought of Lucky’s fate and kissed his head. She managed to gather some plates and cutlery with her free hand and a bowl for Lucky.
“Let me sauté the vegetables, and we’ll be ready to eat.”
“I think Lucky’s ready right now. I’ll put him down upstairs, then I’ll come back for more stuff.”
Upstairs she put the plates on a dresser and set Lucky down on the soft bedding in one of the bedrooms. No sooner had she turned her back than Lucky was following her back out of the room.
“Stay!”
Lucky cocked a black-and-white ear.
“You do know what I’m saying. Stay!” She turned and left the room, but when she reached the bottom of the stairs, whining made her turn to see him up at the top. “You didn’t stay. I don’t think you know how to climb down stairs, though, do you?”
The poor little dog looked desperate enough to hurl himself down. “I’m coming back for you. Hold on.” She climbed the stairs and picked him up again. “You’ll just have to help me get the glasses and napkins.”
Sandro had stuffed the chicken and put it on a big serving platter. He now spooned roast potatoes and sautéed greens around it.
“That looks so good.”
“Sure you don’t want your turkey roll?” He lifted a brow.
“You might be grateful for that two days from now when we’re waiting to be airlifted out of here.”
“Somehow that doesn’t sound so bad.” He flashed a warm grin that turned her insides to liquid.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sandro picked up the big platter and followed her upstairs. Somehow she managed to juggle a stack of napkins, two glasses and a carton of orange juice.
“I guess we can finish the champagne, too. Why aren’t I more nervous? I should be petrified, stuck out here practically in the ocean with water rising on all sides, a storm coming from two directions and no phone contact with the outside world.”
“You’re calm because you know I will take care of you.”
The tiny hairs on her neck prickled. Annoyance. Or arousal at his reassuringly protective words? “Who says I need to be taken care of?”
“Not you, that’s for sure.” He chuckled and followed her into the bedroom she’d chosen because it had a low platform bed they could spread out on.
She settled Lucky on a pillow and started to arrange the plates and make a hard surface for their drinks with a big coffee table book of sunsets, but as soon as Sandro put the plate with the chicken down, Lucky made a beeline for it.
Sandro scooped the dog up in his arms. “Not yet, buddy. We have to carve.”
“He might be starving. I wonder when he last ate.”
“Good point. We’ll do your portion first.” She took Lucky back from him, laughing at how he wiggled with excitement, attention fixed on the roast chicken. Sandro carved it into expert-looking pieces.
“Be sure to take the bones out. Dogs can choke on them. I read that somewhere.”
Sandro put the chicken on the little plate she’d brought for Lucky, and the dog set upon his meal as if he hadn’t seen food in weeks.
“He likes your cooking.”
“He has good taste.” Sandro winked at her. Again her insides shifted. How did he have this effect on her? One glance from Howard never turned her upside down. “Everything for you?”
“Please.”
The food was delicious, and Lucky was such an excellent beggar that they’d fed him almost half the chicken by the time they finally put it up out of reach so he didn’t vomit on the carpet.
“I am so glad I’m not here alone,” she admitted. “I’d be scared to death by myself.”
“It sounds terrible, but I’m rather glad my friends flaked out on me.” He poured them both a glass of champagne. “Their relatives live overseas so they end up all alone while everyone else is celebrating Christmas. I got them to Altaleone two years ago, but they both had important meetings this year and couldn’t go that far.”
“I think it’s sweet that you made the effort for them.”
“Friends are important to me.”
Serena sighed. “I barely keep up with my friends on social media these days. Everyone’s so busy with their careers, their partners. My best college friends both moved to L
.A. to work in television and I haven’t made a real best friend in New York.”
“But you must come into contact with people through your line of work, at least through social media.”
“Well, they come into contact with my public persona. The real me is a lot more shy. I let myself get too wrapped up in Howard. I probably smothered him.”
Lucky climbed into her lap and licked her chin. “Isn’t he sweet? I wonder who he belongs to.”
“Must be the person who owns that house. I hope they’re somewhere high and dry.”
“Do you think we have to give him back?” Lucky collapsed in her lap with a huff. He wasn’t that big. He looked like a herding dog, but he was skin and bones under his fur—which was fluffing out as he dried. “I don’t much like the idea of him being owned by someone who left him out there in this weather.”
“You want to keep him, don’t you?” Sandro’s eyes crinkled into a smile.
Lucky looked up at her with his big blue eyes.
“Oh, I couldn’t. I rent my place. I’m not sure dogs are even allowed.”
“Maybe they are?” Sandro lifted his champagne glass to meet hers. “Perhaps he’s a Christmas gift from the universe to you.”
She laughed. “We need to at least find out who he belongs to. But maybe if they’re truly not a good home.…” She stroked his silky fur. A dog was a big responsibility.
Sandro moved the plates and cutlery off the bed and up onto the high dresser with the rest of the chicken.
“Now, before this dog started barking…where were we?”
Lucky had rolled onto his back and was now fast asleep.
Serena laughed. “About to do something foolish. I owe this dog a big debt of gratitude.”
“I have a bone to pick with this hound.” Sandro scowled at him. “But I think we can pick up where we left off.”
“Really?” She lifted a brow.
“Really.” He pressed his finger to his mouth, asking for silence as he took her hand and led her silently out of the room, then closed the door on snoozing Lucky. “In here,” he whispered, opening the door to the bedroom they’d been in before. “It’ll be easier now as our clothes are dry.”
Serena stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. “There’s a huge storm outside. The neighborhood is flooding.”
“All the more reason to act like it’s our last night on earth.” His wolfish grin sent a shimmy of need to her belly.
“If I only had a few hours to live, I certainly wouldn’t choose to spend them—” Sandro stepped forward and slid his arms around her. Her skin sizzled through her clothing.
“You wouldn’t choose to spend them how?” He tilted his head, curious.
“Having sex.”
“Having sex sounds like an excellent idea.” He leaned in and captured her mouth with a steady kiss. His chest pushed against hers, stirring her breasts.
Uh-oh. Those strange feelings rushed through her again. “That’s not what I meant,” she rasped, tearing her mouth from his for a moment.
“Don’t worry,” he breathed hot in her ear. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Deft fingers lifted the front of her shirt, revealing her lacy bra and the hard peaks of her nipples.
Uh-oh.
His hot mouth sucked each nipple through her bra, then lowered to her ultrasensitive belly. Where he unzipped her fly and eased her pants down over her hips…
Her core sizzled. Would it be so wrong? They were both adults. And single. Maybe she was too uptight. She’d heard that a lot in emails and comments but always prided herself on her high moral standards and— “Oh!”
Sandro’s cool tongue on her hot, sensitive and super aroused flesh made her gasp. Her knees buckled, and his strong arms held her steady. He licked and sucked until her breath came in unsteady gasps and she felt almost ready to explode.
She glanced down to where his dark head moved between her thighs.
“Uh, how come you still have all your clothes on?”
“That’s a problem,” he murmured, pulling back enough to look up at her, eyes dark with passion.
Fingers trembling, she plucked at his shirt, and soon they had peeled it off to reveal his ripped torso and the muscles of his arms.
Her body tingled with awareness of his hard masculinity. He unhooked her bra and slid her bikini underwear down over her hips and thighs, apparently relishing each stage of the journey and caressing her legs with his fingers.
He led her to the bed, tugged down the covers with one sharp movement and eased her into the middle of the mattress.
Then, still standing, he stopped and stared. “Your beauty takes my breath away.”
His deep, rough voice—or was it that slight foreign accent?—made him sound utterly convincing. Her heart squeezed, and suddenly she was sure.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“We can’t do this.” If she made love with Sandro—if she had sex with Sandro—it would change everything. Even if this was supposed to be a casual fling, it would forge a bond of deep intimacy between them and the experience would stay with her for life.
How could it not?
Sandro didn’t respond in words. Instead his lips closed over her hot flesh, his cool tongue flicking over her clitoris until her legs shuddered.
“I said—” Her words faded to a whimper as a movement of his tongue made her hips buck and her body shouted, Yes! Yes. Yes. Yes. She climaxed without him even entering her, as his tongue drove her beyond the point of madness.
She felt her belly quiver with the contractions, but instead of relief she had a sudden fierce urge to feel him deep inside her. She pulled him up by the shoulders, and, eyes opening just long enough to roll on a condom, he entered her swiftly but gently.
The sensation almost unhinged her. She climaxed again as he filled her, pushing gently in as she opened up to embrace him.
What was going on? She’d only had an orgasm twice during sex with Howard. With Sandro she’d had two before he was even fully inside her.
He layered hot kisses on her neck as he started to move, filling her with hot new sensations that shivered to her fingers and toes. Already her heart filled with feelings for this strong, gentle man who’d done so much to transform her lonely Christmas into a festive occasion she’d never forget.
Who’d braved a rising flood for her. Who didn’t even seem mad that she’d broken a vase over his head. He was a unique, warm and intriguing guy.
Who just happened to be a royal prince.
Her third climax swept through her, convulsing her muscles and tightening them around him. She felt him explode inside her, a deep groan peeling from his mouth. “Oddio!”
She wrapped her arms tight around him, holding on to his hard muscle, trying to ground herself in the sweeping sea of sensation and emotion that tossed her.
When they finally caught their breath, he cracked open his eyes. “What were you saying?”
“I have no idea.” She blinked. Of course it was a terrible idea. A huge mistake. A moment she’d live to regret, possibly for the rest of her life.
“What did you say?” she asked, wondering about the strange word he’d uttered.
“I said something?”
“It sounded like Oh-dyo.”
“That’s Italian for I think you just blew several of my sturdier gaskets.” He grinned and kissed her cheekbone.
Sizzling pleasure mingled with regret at the realization that she’d just had the best, most exciting and satisfying sex she was ever likely to enjoy.
With a man she barely knew and whom she would probably never see again.
A recipe for disaster. Especially if you were a sensitive, romantic, wait-for-the-ring type of person whose heart was already smarting and sore from recent devastation.
But that didn’t stop her from doing it again.
And again.
Until the three-pack of condoms from Sandro’s shaving kit was gone and they had to put their underwear back on to act as impromptu c
hastity belts.
Whining from outside the door reminded her of Lucky, who must have woken from his nap. She managed to summon enough energy to stagger to the door on shaky legs and let him in, then lift him on top of the covers.
“Oh. Lucky, I’m glad you didn’t see what we got up to.” She could barely talk. Her whole body was wrung out and limp from her intense last release.
“Hey, Lucky, welcome in, buddy. This is the best Christmas of my entire life,” rasped Sandro. “And that’s saying something.”
“I can’t believe we haven’t even checked the weather. The ocean waves could be lapping at the windowsills behind these storm shutters for all we know.”
“And right now I wouldn’t notice or care. What time is it, anyway?”
She hunted around for her phone, buried on the floor in a pile of their clothes. “Four-thirty A.M. It sounds like the storm is winding down. The wind isn’t as loud as it was earlier.”
“Either that, or we’re in the eye.”
Serena climbed back into bed with him. There was no sense trying to see outside until dawn. Nothing they could do. What was done was done. She crawled into his arms and rested her head on his broad biceps.
Am I in the eye of this storm? She felt so calm, like all of this was meant to happen. She was meant to be here, in this house, in this man’s arms, on Christmas morning.
Which didn’t make any sense at all.
“Get some sleep.” His soft murmur filled her ear.
Good advice. “Okay.” She needed to get some rest before the sun came up and revealed what kind of devastation had been wrought both on the landscape outside—and in her heart.
“Hey! Anyone in there?” Pounding on the front door downstairs made her sit up and clutch the bedcovers.
She prodded sleeping Sandro. “Someone’s here!”
He leaped out of bed and tugged on his pants, then dived down the stairs before she could even get her pants done up. She pulled her shirt back on and followed him. Two men in florescent safety gear over damp fatigues and waders stood in the doorway. She could see through the open door that though the first few feet of lawn by the door were dry, the water lapped just beyond them.
The King's Bought Bride (Royal House of Leone Book 1) Page 25