His Merciless Marriage Bargain

by Jane Porter

  “We’re so different.” Her mouth felt dry. “And our dreams are so different.”

  “I don’t know if we are that different. We both value family. We work hard, and try to think of others. We want Michael to be safe, and loved. And we both want to be happy, as well.” He smiled a little, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. If anything it emphasized the shadows in the blue depths, the shadows a testament to his grief over losing Antonio.

  “Have I missed anything?” he asked quietly.

  The fact that he was still grieving for his brother rendered him human, and vulnerable. Yes, he was still impossibly beautiful but he was a man, and he’d hurt, just as she’d hurt. She wanted to comfort him now, but wasn’t sure how.

  She drew a shallow breath. “Can we both be happy?”

  “You mean, together?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “If we can move forward together and let the past go.”

  “It’s not easy to let it go, though,” she said, nails pressing into her tender palms. “Because you couldn’t have saved Antonio, but I could have saved Juliet—” She broke off, chest squeezing, throat tightening, the air trapped in her lungs. She blinked, trying to clear the sting of tears.

  “How?” Gio asked, covering her clenched hands with one of his.

  “If I’d found all the pills ahead of time. If I’d known she was stockpiling them. If I’d known she was suffering from depression...”

  “But you didn’t. How could you?”

  Rachel’s shoulders twisted. “I should have realized she wasn’t coping well. In the weeks leading up to her death, she needed more and more help from me, and near the end I had become an almost full-time caregiver.” She chewed her lower lip. “I wasn’t happy about it. I told her so, too.”

  “Ah.” His hand squeezed hers. “That’s why you feel guilty.”

  “I wish I could go back and do it differently. You have no idea how much I regret those pep talks and lectures. I was trying to help, but I am quite certain they just made her feel worse...they just isolated her further. Rather than giving her tough love, I should have driven her to a doctor.”

  He tugged her from her chair and pulled her toward him, settling her on his lap. “Hindsight is always clearer,” he said gruffly, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes. “But at the time, you didn’t know, and you were doing your best.”

  Rachel bit harder into her lip, fighting to hold back the tears. She hated remembering, and most of all she hated remembering that last night, because every time she thought about that final evening, she thought of everything she should have said or done. “I’m not disappointed in Juliet,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m disappointed in me.”

  He kissed her then, his mouth covering hers, his tongue stroking the seam of her lips, until her mouth opened for him. He kissed her with hunger and need and something else she couldn’t articulate, and her hands came up to press against his warm, bare chest. He felt good, his skin like satin over dense, hard muscle, and she was torn between pushing him away to preserve her sanity and pulling him closer.

  She was sick and tired of fighting herself. Sick and tired of fighting him, and her desire for him. Everything had been so difficult for so long, and she was ready for something else, something new. Could they be happy together? Was it possible that out of all the terrible loss and grief they could create something new?

  “I think it’s time to take you to bed to stop you from thinking too much,” he murmured.

  “I am thinking too much,” she agreed hoarsely.

  “I know the perfect solution for that,” he answered, hands sliding into her hair, tilting her head back to give him access to her mouth. He kissed her hard, his tongue first lightly stroking her lips, before finding the roof of her mouth and then the tip of her tongue.

  Her pulse jumped and her legs shook as heat flooded her.

  The kiss deepened, his tongue taking her mouth, making her melt. Hot sensation rushed through her and her thighs pressed, trying to deny the ache inside her and the way desire coiled within her.

  She shuddered as he urged her closer, his strong hand low on her hip, holding her firmly against him, letting her feel his erection. She blushed, and hated herself for blushing. She felt like such a child. It would be a relief to know what to do, to feel confident about herself. Her inexperience had become a problem.

  “You’re still thinking,” he growled in her ear.

  “I’m sorry. It’s a problem. I’ll try to stop—” She broke off as he reached behind her neck and found her zipper.

  With practiced ease, he drew the zipper down and slipped the dress off her shoulders. It puddled to her waist.

  And then he stood, rising with her in his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her across the room.

  Panic rushed through her, heightening her emotions, making her pulse race even faster. She wanted him and was glad he would be her first, and yet she also worried she’d disappoint him. Should she tell him that she was still a virgin? Did a man want to know something like that? Or would it put too much pressure on him?

  He placed her on the bed and her gown slid all the way down, in a pool of shimmering green and gold.

  Giovanni’s gaze swept over her as she lay before him in her delicate lace bra and matching thong panties. His lashes dropped and his firm lips curved in appreciation. “The things I want to do to you,” he said, his voice low.

  She exhaled breathlessly, heart pumping so hard she could barely think straight.

  Gio joined her on the bed, stretching out over her, his weight braced on his elbows to keep from crushing her. Gazing down into her flushed face, he thought she’d never looked more beautiful. Her dark eyes shone and her soft mouth looked swollen and so incredibly kissable, so kissable that he lowered his head and took her mouth again.

  “And Michael? What if he wakes?” Rachel gasped, as he shifted to her neck, kissing down the column to the rise of her collarbone.

  He didn’t try to answer her immediately, too intent on claiming one lace-covered nipple, his teeth finding the sensitive tip and tugging ever so gently. She gasped again, her body shifting restlessly beneath his.

  “Mrs. Fabbro is with him,” he answered at length, licking the taut peak, the damp lace imprinting on her tender skin. “She returned to the room after we left, and is sleeping in there with him tonight.”

  “You didn’t say that earlier,” she choked, and then arched up as he covered the nipple, sucking again in firm tugs that had her panting, her hands going to his back, her nails pressing against him.

  Gio welcomed her sighs of pleasure, just as he welcomed the edge of pleasure and pain as her nails bit into his back. He hadn’t wanted to be with anyone this past year. He hadn’t wanted intimacy or sex. He hadn’t felt desire... He hadn’t felt anything, but now he was feeling hunger, desire, need, and he was impatient to have her, impatient to bury himself in Rachel’s soft, wet heat.

  “Are you on birth control?” he asked, lifting his head.

  She shook her head.

  “You’re not protected?” he repeated, struggling to hold back when all he wanted to do was bury himself inside her.

  “No.” She drew an unsteady breath. “I’ve never needed it.”

  “You leave it to your partner?”

  “Yes. No. I mean—” She drew another quick breath, her breasts rising and falling, the dark pink nipples tight buds against the pale creamy skin. “I’m a virgin. I’ve never needed protection before.”

  Giovanni stilled, stunned. Was she serious? She was twenty-eight years old, nearly twenty-nine. Were there twenty-nine-year-old virgins out there?

  He felt her draw a breath, her rib cage rising and falling. Her voice was tremulous when she spoke. “I realize it’s a bit odd, and probably uncomfortable.” She inhaled sharply and exhaled, the sound half laugh, half sob. “It’s uncomfortable, even for me. I never meant to be this...but here I am. Sexless. Emotionless.” Her hand reached out, searching for
something to cover herself with.

  He rose up, careful not to crush her. “You are not without emotions. You just lack experience. There is a difference.”

  She said nothing. Her gaze was fixed on a point past his shoulder but he could see the shadows in her eyes, and then came the silent film of tears.

  “What happened?” he asked, head dipping to kiss just beneath her jaw, and then another kiss to the tender skin of her throat. “Did someone hurt you? Who broke your heart?”

  Her slim shoulder twisted. “No broken heart. I was just holding out for true love. It didn’t happen.”

  “You’ve never been in love?”

  “I think I’ve come close, but it always ended before I was convinced it was a forever love.”

  He placed a kiss along her collarbone, and then lower. She shivered and sighed, as he cupped her breast. He eased his hand back and forth over the taut nipple. She inhaled with each stroke, her breathing increasingly shallow.

  “And yet you’re so sensitive,” he murmured, stroking down, his hand caressing the length of her, from her full breast, over her flat stomach to reach the soft mound between her thighs.

  “You make me sensitive,” she whispered huskily, squirming as he caressed her lightly through the lace panty, light deft touches that made her thighs clench.

  “Or maybe you’ve never given someone the chance to please you.” He leaned over and kissed one of her pelvic bones. Her hips rocked against him. He kissed the other and her breath caught in her throat.

  “If someone can’t please my brain,” she choked, “he’s not about to get close to my body.”

  He smiled as his teeth found the edge of elastic bordering her lace thong. “How do you explain us then?”

  “You didn’t waste time. You went straight for my mind.”

  He nuzzled her between her thighs, and then traced her with the tip of his tongue. He heard her broken cry as his tongue followed the cleft, the soft shape of her, and then between, where she was so very responsive.

  She cried out again when he pushed the scrap of lace aside and touched her with his fingers and tongue, parting her to taste her and tease her. She was tense, nerves wound tight, and trembling as he licked her, slow long flicks of his tongue that had her gasping for air.

  Her hips ground up, and he pressed a hand to her tummy, holding her down, holding her still, while he flicked and sucked on her delicate nub, the tender hood hard against his tongue.

  “Gio,” she choked, her hand reaching for his shoulder, then sliding into his hair.

  He could feel her tighten beneath him, feel her struggling, not wanting to lose control. He eased a finger inside of her, caressing that spot inside her warm slick body and sucked again on her, before gently sliding in another finger, working the inside of her while he matched the pressure on her clit.

  She cried out his name as she climaxed, her body tensing, convulsing with pleasure. He held her after, her supple body so warm in his arms.

  “That,” she whispered, awed, “was amazing.”

  “Good. But that, bella, was just the beginning.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  RACHEL DIDN’T REMEMBER falling asleep, but when she woke up, she was astonished to discover she was still in Gio’s bed, in his room. Morning light streamed through a break in the curtains, streaking the carpeted floor. Memories of last night returned in a rush.

  Rachel sat up swiftly, covers clutched to her breasts.

  Giovanni reached out and drew her back down. “Where are you going?” he asked, sleepily.

  “Michael,” she protested, even as Gio pulled her toward him.

  “He’s with Mrs. Fabbro, remember? I am sure they will be fine for a little bit longer.” Gio rolled her onto her back and kissed her, his body hard and warm.

  She shivered with pleasure, feeling the thickness of his erection press between her thighs. He’d made her climax twice last night and yet he hadn’t taken her virginity. She was ready to lose it. Ready to be his.

  “Make love to me,” she said, locking her hands around his neck.

  “Don’t you want to wait for our wedding night?”

  “No. It puts too much pressure on the evening. I already feel so much pressure.”

  “Why?”

  She wasn’t sure how to explain it to him, but her inexperience was an issue, at least for her. She wanted him, and was glad he would be her first, and yet she was also so very nervous and worried that she’d disappoint him. It was one thing to be a virgin at eighteen, but another at twenty-eight. “What if I’m not any good?” she asked, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “What if you’re sorry—”

  “You worry far too much about everything. Stop thinking,” he said. “Stop analyzing. It’s time to live.”

  “I agree. I want to live. Make love to me. Now. Please.”

  He rolled her over, so that he was now on the bottom, and she was lying naked on top of him. His hand swept down her bare back, over her hip to tease her bottom. He caressed her like that, once, twice, his touch so light on the curve of her backside, and each brush made more of her nerve endings come to life.

  He slid his hands over the curve of her butt again, finding the sensitive crease where her cheeks ended and her leg began. He played with the crease and then the tops of her thighs, stroking out and then in again, melting her from the inside out.

  “Please, Gio,” she whispered, pressing her pelvis to his, her belly knotting, her womb feeling so empty it made her frantic. She’d waited so long for this, and she was ready. She didn’t need more foreplay. She didn’t need him to be gentle. She wanted to be taken.

  His hand slipped between her thighs, finding her slit. She was hot and wet, and his fingers slipped easily into her, stroking, teasing, before sliding out to spread the moisture over her nub, making her buck.

  “Gio,” she gritted, arching up as he caressed her again.

  He rolled her back over, his knees parting her thighs, holding her open for him. She looked up into his hard, handsome face as she felt the head of his shaft at her entrance. He was smooth and warm and she rubbed herself against him, enjoying the way he felt, and how deliciously sensitive she was with him against her.

  He lowered himself to kiss her. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said against her mouth.

  “It will only hurt the first time, so let’s get the first time over.”

  “My pragmatist,” he murmured, smiling. “I appreciate your candor, but it doesn’t sound sexy.”

  “I’m not sexy,” she said hoarsely as he shifted, adjusting himself so that the tip of his shaft was pressing at her entrance.

  She exhaled slowly as he pushed in. He was large and she felt tight, but he kept pressing forward, and she drew a deep breath, trying to focus on his warmth and how he felt like satin, but it was snug, as he pushed in, and it began to sting.

  Her eyes burned and she blinked, surprised by the pain. She really was too old to be a virgin, she thought blinking back tears.

  “I’m hurting you,” he said, growing still.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, her hands sliding around his back, savoring the warmth of his skin and the dense muscle in his back. He did feel good, and she wanted this, and it would only hurt the first time. “Don’t stop.”

  “Bella, darling—”

  “Please. Don’t stop.”

  He thrust deeply, burying himself in her. Gio kissed her, giving her time to get used to him, and as she responded, kissing him back, he began to move, hips rocking, withdrawing to sink back into her. She felt a sensation that made her sigh, not quite a tickle or tingle, but something almost delicious. He thrust into her again, and she felt the same pleasure. She relaxed, welcoming the press of his body and the way he sank deeply into her. Her pulse quickened as his tempo increased, and she began to breathe more deeply, feeling her body tighten around him. He was driving her toward another orgasm, and she gripped his shoulders, her body lifting to meet his, wanting the pressure and pleasure, wantin
g him, wanting more of this sensation of them together.

  They felt like one. They felt the way she’d thought love would feel. Bright and intense and stunning and so deeply satisfying.

  And just like that, she knew two things—she loved him, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. She gave in to both then, her heart opening to love him even as her body yielded to the pleasure. She shattered beneath him and kept shattering, and then he, too, must have been climaxing, as he stiffened and his hands buried in her hair, his hard body filling her completely.

  For long moments afterward, her heart pumped, and her skin felt hot and flushed. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of Giovanni and the weight of him on her and in her. It was wonderful. Being with him was wonderful. She knew he didn’t love her, and would probably never love her, but in that moment she was happy, genuinely happy, and she laughed out loud, a bright quick gurgle of sound.

  Gio lifted his head, looked down at her. “You’re laughing?”

  “Yes.” She smiled up at him, feeling impossibly good, and so very relaxed. “I’m not a virgin anymore, am I?”

  “No. Sorry, bella, you’ve been deflowered.”

  “Thank God! It was about time.”

  His expression turned wry. “I hope you mean thank God it was with me.”

  “Well, of course. That, too.”

  “Hmm.”

  She snuggled close. “It was amazing, Gio. You were amazing. Thank you.”

  Later, after their bodies had cooled, Gio kissed her, and then climbed from bed.

  “I’ll send for coffee,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said, snuggling down under the covers. “I take it you’ll be in your office the rest of the day, doing your usual calls and meetings?”

  He paused in the bathroom door, his body beautifully hard and muscular. “In meetings, yes, but these are meetings with you.”

  “With me?” She propped herself up on one elbow. “Why are we having meetings?”

  “I should say appointments. Today is the day we’re meeting with the journalist from the big UK magazine, the one that is doing the story on our wedding.”