A Ring for Vincenzo's Heir

by Jennie Lucas

  He smiled down at her. “It will be my pleasure.”

  And it would be.

  Going into the luxurious en suite bathroom, Vin turned on the water, then looked around quickly. How to make it even more romantic? Pulling fresh roses from a nearby crystal vase, he crumpled rose petals into the warm running water. But he wanted more. Digging through the bathroom cabinet, he found expensively perfumed bubble bath and triumphantly discovered four candles and a box of matches in the bottom drawer.

  “Can I come in?” she called.

  “Not yet.” He carefully placed the candles around the white marble bathroom with its elegant silver fixtures. He checked the water temperature—not too hot—and added a few more rose petals over the bubbles for good measure. He lit the candles, then turned out the lights. “Now.”

  Scarlett came into the bathroom, then stopped, her mouth agape. She looked at him, her own beautiful face suddenly nervous. As well she should be, he thought smugly.

  “For you, cara,” he said innocently. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  He did leave the bathroom. He was that much of a gentleman. In the bedroom closet, he found his clothes unpacked in a drawer and pulled off his formal white shirt and tailored black trousers, exchanging them for just one article of clothing that would be easy to take off—low-slung sweatpants. When he heard the water slosh in the bathtub, heard her sigh as she descended into the warm, fragrant water, he gave a single knock on the bathroom door and pushed it open.

  The white bubbles covered Scarlett’s naked body modestly in the flickering candlelight. Only the tops of her breasts and a small bit of belly protruded as she looked back at him in surprise.

  Her long red hair was piled high in a topknot, but tendrils of hair fell down her neck. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her full lips red and parted.

  Vin had braced himself for seeing her naked, but the image still hit him low in the gut. Very low. It wasn’t like he could hide his desire, either, in the low-slung sweatpants. His chest was bare, showing his shape from hours burning off energy and rage in the boxing gym and martial arts dojo. His hard flat belly was dusted with dark hair, like an arrow pointing down to the center of his desire.

  So be it. Let her look.

  Let his intentions be clear.

  “What are you—” Her voice came out a croak. She swallowed, then looking up at his face, she said in a steadier voice, “What do you want?”

  “I told you.” He came closer, giving her a sensual, heavy-lidded smile. “I want to make you feel good.”

  “You made me this bath.”

  “I can do even better,” he said silkily. “If you’ll let me.”

  For a moment, she seemed to hold her breath.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Vin sat behind her, on the tiled edge of the enormous marble tub.

  He knew he could reach down, turn her face to his and claim her lips. Claim all of her. But he forced himself to take it slow. To seduce her, bit by bit.

  “Let me show you,” he said softly.

  With agonizing slowness, he lowered his hands to her naked shoulders peeking out above the bubbles. Amid the flickering shadows, he sucked in his breath at the sensual shock of feeling her warm, slippery skin beneath his fingers, and knowing that she was naked beneath the rose petals and bubbles, there for his pleasure, just waiting for him to claim her.

  Closing his eyes so he wouldn’t be tempted by the soft sway of the water visibly caressing her round breasts, he began to rub her shoulders. His massage was light at first, then gradually he increased the pressure.

  Scarlett exhaled, as though the stress of months or years was melting beneath his touch. Using his fingertips, his thumbs, he rubbed the knots away from her shoulders and neck. She closed her eyes, her rosy face the picture of pleasure as she leaned against his hands, like a cat meeting his stroke.

  After a few minutes, when her face was blissfully peaceful, his hands began to move differently. Slowly, he moved past her shoulders to her upper arms, then her neck. He brushed the tender flesh of her earlobes with the flicker of a caress.

  By now, the bubbles had mostly disappeared, and he could see the curves of her naked body beneath the water. He had himself under control now—for the moment—but he was also only a man. Too much of this and he might dive headlong into the enormous bathtub with her, to make love to her against the hard marble, amid the slosh of the cooling water.

  Lowering his head to the nape of her neck, Vin brushed the red tendrils of her hair aside and kissed her, his lips lingering sensually on her skin.

  * * *

  Scarlett felt the brush of Vin’s lips against the sensitive skin of her neck, and it was like lightning sizzling through her. All peace disappeared.

  The water’s temperature had cooled, and more alarmingly, the bubbles had diminished, no longer providing camouflage. Her breasts were entirely visible now, gleaming wet and flicked with only a few tiny bubbles like decorative pearls. Her hard nipples were rosy beneath the water.

  “Scarlett, look at me,” Vin said in a low, savage voice.

  She had no choice but to obey. Tilting her head, she looked at his handsome face. Her eyes unwillingly traced his half-naked body, his thickly muscled chest, the trail of dark hair that led downward from his belly to the low waistline of his dark gray sweatpants, and below that...!

  Even in the soft candlelight, she could see the outline of him, huge and hard for her. Involuntarily, she sucked in her breath with a whimper.

  “I want you,” he growled.

  She swallowed. She wanted him, too, desperately. But she was afraid of what would happen if she surrendered to him completely. Would it be the start of a wonderful, loving, lifelong marriage? Or would it be the beginning of a lifetime of misery?

  He was physically perfect. While she... She glanced back at her own body and her cheeks burned self-consciously. “But I’m so big...”

  “Yes. You are.” His hand reached down to cup a pregnancy-swollen breast, as if feeling the weight. It overflowed his hand as he tightened his fingers around an aching nipple. “And I want you as I’ve never wanted any woman.”

  The pleasure of his touch was so sharp and raw it made her gasp.

  Lowering his head, he kissed her, his lips hot and smooth as silk. Fire flooded through her. She kissed him back, water sloshing around her as she placed her hand against his cheek.

  “Oh, Vin,” she breathed. “I want you, too...”

  And she kissed him recklessly.

  Abruptly, his arms plunged into the bathtub. Reaching around her, he lifted her naked, wet body from the cool water, carrying her against his hard bare chest as if she weighed nothing at all. He slowly set her down to stand in front of him, her naked body sliding against his, before her feet reluctantly touched the white fluffy rug.

  She was eight and a half months pregnant, and standing naked in front of him. She was so heavy. How could he want her? How could any man find her sexy, let alone Vin Borgia, who was so handsome and powerful he could have had any woman on earth?

  But he didn’t love her. She shivered. If she surrendered now, would she regret it for the rest of her life?

  “You’re cold,” he murmured. Grabbing an enormous white cotton towel, he gently wrapped her in it.

  But she wasn’t shivering from cold. Swallowing, she looked up at him, her heart in her throat.

  “I’m not exactly your usual supermodel,” she said, trying for levity, but her voice trembled around the edges.

  “No. You’re not.” He ran his hands gently through her hair, loosening the topknot so the damp waves tumbled down her shoulders. “There is nothing usual about you, Scarlett. You are special. The most beautiful, resourceful, kindhearted woman I’ve ever known.” Holding the towel, he pulled her closer. “But that’s not why I want you in my bed.”

  “It’s not?”

  He shook his head. “My need for you is far more primitive than that.” His fingertips traced the bare skin ligh
tly from her collarbone to the hollow between her breasts. “You’re in my blood, Scarlett.” His voice lowered almost to a growl. “You belong to me, and I intend to have you.”

  The moment stretched out between them, threatening to snap.

  Belong to him?

  She couldn’t belong to him.

  Not when he didn’t belong to her. He didn’t love her, and she didn’t know if he ever would.

  Panic rose from her heart to her throat. “No—”

  Ripping the towel from his grasp, she turned and fled, practically slamming the door behind her.

  In the bedroom, she beat the world record for finding her oversize T-shirt and cotton panties in a drawer. Within thirty seconds, she was tucked into the enormous bed, the heavy bedcovers pulled tightly to her neck.

  The bedroom was dark. Her heartbeat drummed in her throat as she waited for Vin to come out of the bathroom. What did she hope to achieve by hiding in this bed? They were sharing the room. He’d just have to sleep on the sofa by the window, she thought.

  But Vin Borgia didn’t seem like the kind of man who would politely take himself off to sleep on the sofa. Not when he’d made such a ruthless declaration.

  You’ve in my blood, Scarlett. You belong to me, and I intend to have you.

  She jolted when she heard the door abruptly open, causing a trickle of light across the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard him blow out the candles in the bathroom, one by one. Then silence.

  “Go sleep on the sofa!” she tried to say, but her voice wouldn’t work. She heard the echo of heavy footsteps coming toward her. They stopped.

  The mattress beneath her swayed. She felt his warmth, breathed in the scent of sandalwood. Nervously, she scooted to the other side of the enormous king-size bed. Her heart was pounding. Part of her yearned desperately for him to reach out and pull her into his arms—but she was oh, so afraid of giving him complete power over her!

  He reached for her in the darkness, and without a word, slowly, he turned her to face him. She felt his fingertips tantalizingly trail the edge of her hair, her shoulder, her hip.

  His hand cupped her full breast, his palm moving against her aching nipple through her thin white cotton T-shirt. His other hand moved lingeringly over the curve of her belly, moving lower, and lower still. She felt something pressing hard against her and realized he was naked.

  Tension coiled deep inside her, a sweet ache of need that was starting to build beyond her control.

  She’d thought she knew desire from their first night together, their night of escape and exploration and discovery. But this was something else. Something else entirely.

  Pregnancy hormones had given a fierce edge to her sexual need that she’d never experienced before. Or maybe it was because she now wore his ring on her finger, she was sleeping in his bed, she was pregnant with his child and soon would be his wife.

  She wanted him. She wanted this. All of it. A home with warmth and comfort. A family. But most of all she wanted something impossible: she wanted him to love her...

  She pulled back, struggling to see his face in the darkness. Her eyes adjusted, and the scattered moonlight from behind the window blinds silhouetted the hard edges of his cheekbones and jawline with silver.

  Could he ever love her? Or was he just seducing her into marriage, for the sake of their baby?

  She yearned to ask but didn’t have the courage. Instead, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

  She heard his intake of breath, then felt the hard, sweet taste of his mouth on hers.

  He kissed her for minutes—or hours—until her cheeks felt abraded from the roughness of the dark bristles on his jawline. His mouth was hungry and hard, pushing her lips apart as he teased her with his tongue. She clutched his shoulders, electrified by the heat of his hard naked body, the strength and size of him against her. She gripped him tight as his hands roamed possessively over the curves of her breasts and thighs.

  Breaking the kiss, he pushed her back against the bed and slowly kissed down her body, stroking her full breasts and the mound of her belly and her voluptuous hips through her thin cotton T-shirt until he knelt at the foot of the bed. Spreading her feet apart, he caressed the hollows of her feet, the tender skin of her ankle.

  Then he started moving upward. He kissed and caressed her calves. He kissed her knees, and the hollows beneath them, with a sensual flick of his tongue. Moving inexorably toward her thighs, he pushed her T-shirt up to her hips, leaving her cotton panties exposed.

  Stroking the outside of her thighs, he positioned his head between them, and she started to shake.

  Using his large hands to spread her legs wide, he kissed and nibbled her inner thighs. His breath warmed her skin, causing prickles of heat and furious desire to spread like wildfire through her body.

  He teased her, kissing her softly with little flicks of his tongue along the edge of her panties. He cupped her mound over the thin cotton, rubbing the most sensitive part of her with his palm, leaving her gasping with need.

  Her hands gripped the bedsheet as her hips moved of their own accord, swaying beneath his touch.

  He slowly pulled her cotton panties down the length of her legs, in a whisper of sensation. She held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut as he moved back to her.

  Placing his large hands on her inner thighs, he lowered his head. She felt his hot breath full against her, teasing her, and she quivered beneath him.

  Spreading her wide, he took a long, languorous taste.

  She gave a soft cry at the immediate wave of pleasure. It was almost too much. She tried to twist her hips away, but he held her more firmly against the bed.

  He flicked the tip of his wet tongue lightly against her, swirling around her hard, aching nub in a circular motion. Then he spread her wide, lapping her hungrily with the full width of his tongue. She felt wet, so wet. She gasped as he eased a finger inside her.

  Sweet agony built inside her, higher and higher. Her hips started to lift off the bed. A low cry came unbidden from her lips as he worked her roughly with his tongue, and his expert fingers teased her. Gripping his shoulders, she screamed, blinded by the bright explosion of pleasure.

  He did not wait. With a low growl, he pulled her upright and yanked off her flimsy T-shirt, leaving her completely naked beneath him.

  Her body was still boneless and satiated as he fell beside her on the mattress, rolling her over him, so she straddled his hard, naked body, her belly huge between them. With her knees over the hard planes of his hips, she felt the intimate press of his rock-hard body. He was enormous.

  Her swollen breasts were angled toward his mouth. Lifting his head, he suckled each one greedily in turn, causing her to gasp and arch her back with the new sweet sensation of his lips and tongue and teeth. With her legs spread wide over his hips, she slid against him on instinct, her body tightening as she felt him press against her slick core, demanding entry.

  He lifted her, positioned himself, then slowly thrust inside her, filling her inch by inch, filling her to the hilt.

  She moaned as she felt him push deep inside her. Her hips moved, swaying, quivering around him. He was so thick, so hard. So deep—

  Hearing his intake of breath, she looked down at his face. His eyes were closed, his expression rapt, and she suddenly realized that if he had power over her, she had power over him.

  Slowly, she began to ride him. As his lips parted in a soundless gasp, she rode him harder and faster, her breasts swaying with the rough movement.

  Tension coiled and built inside her, even higher than before. She leaned forward, gripping his muscled shoulders with her fingertips. She felt him tense beneath her, heard his gasp. She felt him try to draw back, to slow down—

  But she wouldn’t let him withdraw. She rode him hard, pushing him until his body started to shake beneath her. She heard his rising growl and felt him explode inside her. Only then did she let herself go, and as she heard him cry out, her own world exploded into a million sparkli
ng colors, before going black with the savage intensity of their joy.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AWARENESS CAME SLOWLY to Vin. It seemed like hours later when he opened his eyes.

  Blinking in the darkness, he remembered they were in the guest room of the villa. Scarlett moved in his arms, warm and soft. His woman. His hands tightened on her as she slept.

  He’d deliberately teased her, intending to make her insane with desire, to make her love him. But she wasn’t the only one who’d lost control.

  Setting his jaw, Vin stared up grimly at the ceiling.

  What if his lie about the possibility of falling for her hadn’t been a lie?

  Could he really be starting to care?

  No, he told himself fiercely. No way. He enjoyed having Scarlett in his bed. It was sexual pleasure. That was all it could possibly be.

  But this place was messing with his brain. All of it. Italy. This villa. Being around family again. It all reminded him of who he’d once been, when all he’d wanted was to have a real home, to be loved.

  But Vin had toughened up since then. Smartened up. Home could be anywhere. He owned more houses than he could keep track of, mostly as investments but also for his convenience. They were all decorated the same, modern and Spartan in stark black and gray, devoid of many personal details or clutter. That was always how he liked his relationships, too. In his opinion, “love” was a fancy decoration, as tacky and inappropriate as pink flounces or Victorian chintz.

  He put his hand to his forehead, feeling a sense of vertigo. He couldn’t let himself return to the vulnerable, tenderhearted boy he’d been. The boy who’d actually cared. The boy who’d felt things. Who’d hungered for things that had nothing to do with money—

  It was this place, he thought angrily.

  No. He looked at Scarlett sleeping so trustingly in his arms. It was her.

  He couldn’t let himself lose his head. He had to keep it together. Stay cool. Stick to the plan.

  They would be married soon, he told himself. All he had to do was make her love him enough to sign the post-nup. That was all.