He looked up at her, an implacable expression in his dark eyes. “Stay still.”
Oh, dear Lord. A shudder went through her. He pressed a kiss to the inside of both her knees, worked his way up the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, caressing her with his mouth, the scrape of his teeth. She bit her lip, willing him on.
She was aching, pulsing for him by the time he got to where she wanted him. Ready to beg. Mouth dry, she watched as he pushed up her dress and tucked it beneath her hip, baring her lacy, black panties. A wisp of nothing—meant to seduce.
Hand on her thigh, he considered her. Bold. Focused. “You wore these for me?”
“Yes.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I thought you said you weren’t going to wear lingerie for me.”
“I said I wouldn’t greet you at the door wearing it.”
A play of laughter in those dark eyes. “Appreciate the distinction.”
Shifting his attention back to the job at hand, he lowered his head and caressed her through the silk with one long stroke of his tongue. Her knees buckled. Sinking back on her palms, she braced herself against the wood. Closed her eyes as he stroked her again and again, desensitizing her, she knew, for the pleasure he would give her.
When she stopped bucking under his tongue, he pressed a kiss to her trembling abdomen, slid his fingers under the edges of the silk and stripped the panties from her. Moving back between her thighs, he spread her wide. Ran his thumb through her cleft. Blood surged from her fingertips to her toes as he examined her flesh.
“Already wet for me, cara.” He looked up, eyes blazing. “Maybe I should stop.”
She reached for him. Received a reproachful look as he put her palms back on the wood. “Move them again and I will.”
She closed her eyes. Felt the heat of his breath before his tongue found the hard nub at the center of her, nudging it with sensual precision. Back and forth, up and down. When her legs started to shake, her voice a low plea, he licked her slowly, deliberately, talking to her as he did it, telling her the taste of her made him hard. Hot.
Insane for him, at the very edge, she curled her fingers into the wood. He circled her with his finger. Delved inside of her. Her muscles clenched around him, drawing him in. Slowly, relentlessly, he moved his finger in and out of her, another kind of pleasure stirring to life that was deeper. More intense.
“Look at me.” His husky command brought her eyes fluttering open. Seeing him between her spread legs, pleasuring her, sent her right to the edge. “You want it like this? Or with me inside your beautiful body?”
She swallowed past the need constricting her throat, the raging hunger he inspired in her. “With you,” she rasped, keeping her hands on the wood. “I want it to be with you.”
* * *
Lorenzo removed his hands from his wife, swung her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, working to blank his mind from the emotion pouring through it. But his wife had always cast a spell over him and tonight was no exception, despite his attempts to tell himself going there was unwise.
He set her down near the bed and moved behind her to lower the zipper of her dress. Pushing it off her shoulders, Alexander’s creation hit the wood floor in a swish of feather-light material.
Hands on her shoulders, he turned her around. Drank in his wife’s mouthwatering curves. Lushly feminine in all the right places, her breasts were more than a handful, perfectly shaped and high, her delectable hips flaring above long, fantastic legs he wanted wrapped around him so badly, it was all he could do to keep this the leisurely seduction he’d planned.
Stripping off his shirt and pants, his gaze never left her. Kicking his clothes aside, he snaked an arm around her waist, pulled her to him and plastered her curves against the length of his body. Fingers curving around her jaw, he dropped a lingering kiss on her mouth. Shared with her the essence of their mutual passion until the raw, unvarnished truth of their connection swelled him so hard he thought he might break in two.
This time when she reached for him, her touch like silk around his throbbing length, he arched into it, desperate for more.
“That’s it.” His breath was hot against her ear. “I’ve missed your hands on me, mia cara. I crave them.”
His skin began to burn, tremble, her exploration of his body firing his blood. He closed his eyes, primal sounds leaving the back of his throat as she stroked him to the edge.
When he could take it no longer, he pushed her hands away, sank his palms into her hips and lifted her onto the bed. The moonlight spilling in the French doors edged across her face, illuminating the beautiful vulnerability he was starting to believe was the truth of her.
He slid his hands around her back, released the catch of her bra and threw it to the floor. Her full, swollen breasts were a temptation he couldn’t resist. A shudder raked through her as he swept his thumbs across the tips.
“Like ripe, delectable fruit,” he murmured, lowering his head to her. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. She gasped, threw back her head and pushed her flesh farther into his mouth. He devoured her, satisfied his hunger. Played her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger while he brought the hard bud to a swollen erectness with his lips and teeth.
She moaned as he lavished the same attention on her other breast, digging her fingers in his hair. “Please.”
Her broken plea contracted his insides. He joined her on the bed, shackled his fingers around her ankles and bent them back so she was open to him. Moving between her thighs, he palmed his length, brought himself to her slick entrance and rocked against her so just the tip pushed inside.
“You want me, cara?”
She nodded, her big blue eyes glued to his.
“Tell me how much.”
“All of you,” she gasped. “I want all of you.”
Bracing a palm on the bed, he tipped his hips forward and filled her with another inch. “Lorenzo,” she breathed, arching up to meet him, “I need you.”
A primal satisfaction claimed him. All of those nights since she’d left when no one else would do, when her memory had made a mockery of his libido, were vindicated as she lay begging beneath him, beautiful and oh, so vulnerable. Exactly as he’d wanted her. And yet, as he rocked forward again, her body clenching around him like a hot, silken glove, he would have been delusional to deny he was as affected as she was.
He leaned forward, slicking his tongue across her bottom lip in an erotic caress that made her clench tighter around him. “There is no going back,” he rasped, “only forward. Tell me you understand that.”
“Yes.” She arched her hips, eyes glazed. “More.”
He buried himself inside her with a smooth, powerful stroke. Her gaze met his in an electric, soul-destroying connection. “You feel like heaven, cara. Perfection.”
Her slick, aroused body absorbed him, stretched to accommodate his length and girth. He gritted his teeth, forced himself to hang on. Fine tremors snaked through her body, her inner muscles rippling around him. He moved inside her then with hard, powerful drives designed to drive her to orgasm. He lacked his usual finesse, but was beyond caring. Her fingers clutched his hips as his big body rode hers, claimed her, found that spot deep inside her that made her moan with pleasure.
She arched into it, wanting everything he had to give. He braced himself on one arm, slipped the other hand between her legs and found the bundle of nerves at her center. “I can feel you clenching around me,” he murmured, stroking his thumb teasingly over her clitoris. “Like that,” he whispered when she jerked beneath his touch. “And that,” he said as another shiver raked through her. “Come for me, cara.”
His next firm caress set her off. Her husky groan, the way she gloved him in a tight squeeze, pushed him into a violent, body-shaking release. Relinquishing control, he tightened his finger
s around her hips, drove into her and made her come apart a second time.
* * *
Lorenzo was awake long after his wife fell asleep in his arms. Soft and warm, her body curved against his, their fit together was so perfect it was as if she’d been made to fill in his missing spaces. To complete the parts of him that had been empty so long he’d had no idea they still existed.
A knot fisting his stomach, he disentangled himself from his wife and lay staring at the sky through the window overhead. He’d crossed a line tonight—allowing this thing between him and Angelina to become emotional when he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. It had been that kind of a night, to be sure, but he knew if he wasn’t careful, he’d start walking down a path he could never go and it would be Angelina who got hurt, not him.
He’d been falling in love with his wife when she’d left, his instincts warning him if he let himself, he would have fallen harder for Angelina than he had ever fallen for Lucia. His love for Lucia had been a pure, untainted first love that lacked the passion and emotion he and Angelina had shared. The depth of his feelings for Angelina, the betrayal those feelings had seemed to Lucia, the youth and unhappiness Angelina had displayed that had made her an unsure bet, had made him cauterize his feelings, refuse to acknowledge them.
And his instincts had been dead-on, he thought, staring up at the cloudy night sky. Angelina had walked out as soon as the going had gotten tough, had made a mockery of the vows they’d made. And that was why certain lines could never be crossed.
If he was smart, he would follow his original plan. Burn out the attraction between him and his wife until it no longer held any power over him.
Now that he had her back in his bed, he intended to do exactly that.
CHAPTER NINE
“HOW ABOUT YOU come to Mallorca in a couple of weeks? I have to be at our flagship property for a few days. You can meet with the management team and we can go through the last few points face-to-face.”
Lorenzo blew out a breath. He’d spent two weeks anticipating Marc Bavaro’s return from South America and now he wanted him to gallivant off to Spain, Belmont’s global headquarters, to make this deal happen? He ran a global corporation, for God’s sake, three times the size of Bavaro’s. How the hell did he have time for that?
“As much as I’d love to,” he said in an even tone, “my schedule is insane. We can’t do it before then?”
“I’m headed to London as we speak. I’m not back to New York until mid-October.”
Too late, with the board meeting looming. “I’ll see what I can do,” Lorenzo conceded. “How long are you thinking?”
“Come for a couple of days. We can have dinner with my brother, Diego, the night you arrive, then we’ll do the management meeting the next morning. Oh—” the CEO’s voice dropped to an intimate purr “—and bring your beautiful wife...she can keep Penny company.”
He wasn’t sure Bavaro lusting after Angelina was going to go over so well in his current mood. “Angie is in her busy period. I’ll have to check her schedule.”
“Let me know.” The roar of a jet engine fired in the background. “I should go.”
He cut off the call. Turned the air blue. Gillian popped her head in his office and asked if he needed help. He told her to clear his schedule for the time in Mallorca, then turned his thoughts to his wife. How to get her to agree to go to Spain was the challenge. She was so busy with commissions after Faggini’s show she’d even hired a couple of part-time designers to help with the rush. She would balk at a trip, no doubt about it.
He sat back in his chair and contemplated a solution. Things had been better than good between them. They were learning to compromise, to manage their expectations of each other. They were communicating both in bed and out of it. His marriage was working. The last thing he needed was to rock the boat.
But this, he thought, tapping his fingers on the desk, was necessary.
A plan came to him. It was a good one. Satisfied, he picked up the phone.
* * *
“I have a proposal for you.”
Angelina cradled her mobile against her ear as she put down her pliers, the intimate, seductive edge to her husband’s voice unleashing a wave of heat beneath her skin. The huskiness, she knew, came from the inhuman working hours he was keeping.
“If it involves sleep for you, I’m all for it,” she said lightly. “What time were you up this morning?”
“Five. And, yes, it involves sleep for both of us,” he replied in a throaty tone that sent goose bumps to her heated skin. “Well,” he amended, “it involves a bed and us. Sleep not so much.”
Her heart beat a jagged rhythm. They hadn’t been able to get enough of each other since Alexander’s party, thus contributing to her sleeping deficit. Not that she was complaining. She was so happy she was afraid to blink, because history had taught her something would implode in her face if she did.
But she wasn’t thinking that way, she reminded herself. “What are you proposing?”
“The only way I can pin Marc Bavaro down is to hook up with him at his property in Mallorca in a couple of weeks’ time. Penny’s going. He wants you to come, too.”
She pressed a palm to her temple. “Lorenzo... I have so much work to do before Christmas.”
“That’s part of my proposal. You come with me to Spain and I will absolve you of any social obligations until the hotel opening in October.”
“What are you going to do? Go to them alone?”
“Sì.”
She didn’t like the idea of her gorgeous husband attending all those events alone the way women fell all over him. Leaving the country for a week was also an unwise idea given the work in front of her.
But how could she say no after everything Lorenzo had done for her? He had been her rock as she’d navigated her emotional visits with her mother, pushed her to hire a couple of assistants to keep her sanity with all the work pouring in. And when she was exhausted from managing them, he deposited her bodily into bed when she no longer recognized her limits. She wasn’t sure what she would have done without him.
“I will take you to Portofino for a couple of days afterward.” Her husband’s voice lowered to a sexy rasp. “We can do walks through the village. I’ll take you to that seafood restaurant you love...”
Her heart turned over. By far her most magical memories with Lorenzo were from that heavenly week they’d spent together in the tiny fishing village on the Italian Riviera on their honeymoon, the view from the Riccis’ villa perched in the hills spectacularly romantic. It had been impossibly perfect with their strolls through the cobblestone streets, leisurely, seaside dinners and long, uninhibited nights of lovemaking in which her husband had taught her wicked things, delicious things her innocent mind could only have dreamed of.
Going back would be like walking into a piece of the past she wasn’t sure she was ready for, but perhaps that was exactly what she needed to do.
“Well?” her husband prompted. “Say yes. It will be good for us, cara.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay. But I can’t be gone longer than a week. And I’m holding you to your promise.”
“Bene.” Satisfaction laced his tone. “I’ll get Gillian to work with you on the details. Grazie mille, bella. I should go.”
She hung up. Stared at all the pieces on her desk that needed to be finished. Thought of the massive influx of orders to be filled. She was a tiny operation—she wasn’t built for this.
Panic clawed at her insides. She couldn’t afford to mess up this chance she’d been given. The interest in her work following Alexander’s show was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make her name. But neither was she prepared to mess up her marriage.
She could do this. She just needed to lean on the designers she’d hired and make a plan.
* * *
Angie worked like a demon over the next two weeks, making a good dent in the list of commissions. Reserving the trickier pieces for when she got back, she handed the rest of the work over to her assistants and stepped on the jet for the trip to Mallorca with Lorenzo.
Shocked at how exhausted she was, she put the reclining seat back as soon as dinner had been served and slept while her machine of a husband worked.
When she woke, it was to the darkest of ebony eyes and a very seductive kiss from her husband. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. We’re about to land.”
She blinked. “We aren’t.”
“We are. A half hour tops. Go freshen up so you can have some breakfast before we land.”
She slid out of her seat and headed for the bedroom, where she changed her top, so she wouldn’t look so wrinkled when they met the driver, and freshened her hair and makeup. Breakfast, however, wasn’t to be. Her stomach still felt like it was 2:00 a.m. Coffee and orange juice would have to suffice.
The driver took them up into the lush green mountains of Mallorca’s peaceful northwest coast to the Belmont Mallorca, considered to be one of the world’s finest hotels. Nestled into a valley surrounded by soaring peaks, its two stone manor houses offered a spectacular view of a medieval village.
Still inordinately tired, she took a nap in the afternoon in their beautiful airy suite to arm her for a late dinner while Lorenzo spent the afternoon with Marc. But even after she woke and pulled herself out of the white-silk-draped canopy bed and showered, her limbs still felt as if they were weighted with lead.
She hadn’t felt this inexplicably tired since the first trimester of her pregnancy, she mused as she stood at the wardrobe selecting a dress to wear for dinner. Ice slid through her veins... No. There was no way. She couldn’t be. She was on the pill. She had been so careful.
Rationality, however, did not stop her from flying into the bedroom to find her purse, where she retrieved her birth control pills and found they were all accounted for. Slackening with relief, she saw the antibiotics she’d been taking following a dental procedure. Remembering she hadn’t taken one today, she popped one into her mouth, swallowed it with a gulp of water, then padded back to the wardrobe to choose her dress.
A Debt Paid in the Marriage Bed (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 11