Gianni's Pride

by Kim Lawrence

  When she prised her heavy lids open she discovered he had removed his shorts. She sucked in a shocked breath, excitement zigzagged through her body like fork lightning and she felt an immediate flood of hot moisture pool between her thighs in reaction to the sight of his magnificently aroused body.

  ‘If you carry on looking at me like that, cara, this thing will be over before it is started,’ he rasped throatily.

  ‘S … sorry.’ He was watching her and not moving. His stillness had an explosive quality. The muscles in her stomach quivered violently; her mouth was dry.

  ‘No apology required.’

  She shivered and cried out as his hand curved over one breast, then his head was there, dark against her skin as he began to run his tongue over her aching flesh, moving closer to the tight, burning nipple before he finally took it into his mouth.

  While he tasted her, his hands began to move, stroking and caressing her everywhere until her entire body was shaking and her skin was burning.

  Then his tongue moved lower, the sensual exploration following his hands down her body. She jerked at the touch of his fingers along her inner thigh as he dragged her legs apart, causing her to gasp as he stroked the throbbing core of her pleasure. After the first shock she found herself moving with him, her hips rotating in time with the rhythmic caresses as she felt the pleasure build.

  She gave a bewildered cry of protest when he moved away without warning.

  ‘Hold that thought, cara.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘We need protection. I know, I know, sorry, but I promise I’ll be back before you can say—’

  ‘I want you,’ she completed, her dissent giving way to anticipation at his explanation.

  Gianni broke all records racing to his room and then back up. Sitting on the side of the bed, he removed the foil from the condom, stopping when he felt her hand curl around the smooth shaft of his erection.

  The touch snapped his fragile control and with a growl he tipped her back on the bed. Sliding on the condom with one hand, he knelt between her pale thighs. Kissing her throat, he trailed his damp kisses towards her mouth as Miranda guided him with a shaking hand into her, her overpowering need overcoming doubt.

  His astonished gasp was louder than Miranda’s.

  ‘Relax, cara, let’s do this slow and sweet,’ he crooned in her ear. ‘You ready for this?’

  ‘Please,’ she whispered, grabbing his shoulders, feeling as though his beautiful voice was the one thing anchoring her to reality.

  He began to move, stroking a hand down her flank as he looked down into her face, struggling for control as her tight, wet heat surrounded him, and gripped him, sucking him into her body deeper and deeper.

  She could not believe the pleasure singing through her body. Every move he made produced new and wonderful mind-numbing sensations. ‘You feel … oh, Gianni, you’re so good at this … very, very, very good—do you know that?’

  Miranda moved with him, breathless, clinging, every fibre of her body straining for release … up to the point where she really thought she’d lose consciousness. Then when it came the release was like a starburst, wave after wave of intense thrumming pleasure that hummed through her entire body.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GIANNI still lay on top of her breathing hard when she said, ‘I’d really like to do that again.’

  Miranda felt the laughter in his chest before he grunted and rolled off her. ‘I pride myself on my quick recovery time, but give a man a second to catch his breath.’

  They lay side by side, breathing hard, the sweat on their skins cooling until Miranda started laughing.

  He turned his head at the soft sound and murmured drily, ‘Not a reaction I have ever had before.’ Luckily his ego was fairly sturdy or he might be feeling worried instead of just … exhausted. His eyes slid down her supine body. Her smooth skin glistened pearly pale beneath a fine layer of sweat, her pink-tipped little breasts still bore the marks of his caresses and he realised he was actually not that exhausted.

  Miranda threw a hand above her head and sighed. ‘I really never knew that anything could be that marvelous, that I could feel … That was wonderful. You were just totally incredible, thank you.’

  His eyes gleamed with warm amusement. ‘You are very welcome and I can honestly say it was a great pleasure.’

  ‘Are you annoyed?’

  He turned his head to look at her.

  ‘That I didn’t mention …’ She shrugged. ‘You know …?’

  Gianni lifted his reluctant gaze to her face—the shrug had made her breasts quiver and shift in a delicious way that fascinated him. She fascinated him; she really did have the most incredible body, so supple and smooth, she reminded him of a sleek little cat.

  He couldn’t look at her without wanting to touch her.

  A faint flush had washed over her skin when she caught the direction of his gaze, but she had made no attempt to cover herself. The intense awareness of her body and the total lack of self-consciousness she felt with him ought to have clashed; instead, bizarrely and rather wonderfully, they complemented one another.

  ‘That you were a virgin? It was a shock but, no, I’m not annoyed. Surprised … curious, yes, but not … annoyed. We might pretend otherwise, but it’s pretty much every man’s secret fantasy to be a woman’s first lover …’

  She rolled over, propped her chin on her hands and looked at him. ‘Really?’

  He gave a lazy smile and reached out to stroke a hand down the curve of her bottom. ‘Really.’

  She gave a wistful sigh. ‘Well, when I find the man who fantasises about being my last lover I suppose I’ll have struck gold.’

  ‘So why was I your first lover, Miranda? Are you going to tell me?’

  Miranda liked the way he had left it open, her choice. ‘At school I was always serious, more interested in books than boys, a bit of a slow developer. Then when I did fall it was for someone who didn’t know I was alive, not in that way at least. And while I was waiting for Oliver to notice me he fell for … someone else.’

  The idiot’s loss, Gianni thought grimly, was his gain. ‘But you’re still in love with him, this … Oliver?’ She might be in love with another man, but she was in bed with him—the perfect scenario: sex without emotional entanglements. ‘But not enough to fight for him?’

  ‘You can’t make somebody love you, especially when he’s just married your—’ Reluctant to reveal that the woman in question was her twin, Miranda left the statement unfinished and explained, ‘He was my boss. I didn’t want to see them …’

  ‘Happy?’

  Miranda shook her head and looked genuinely shocked by the suggestion. ‘Oh, I’m glad Oliver is happy. He deserves it—he’s a marvellous man. But I thought I’d sat around waiting for—well, I’d sat around long enough. It was time I did something—obviously this isn’t quite what I had in mind, but I’m glad. Very glad.’

  She smiled at him and Gianni felt a twinge in the region of his heart. Actually it was more like a hand reaching in and squeezing.

  ‘To be honest I always thought that casual sex was, well … tacky, that it would feel wrong with someone you didn’t care about … have feelings for. But I was wrong, it’s not. It felt marvellous!’ She pressed her head on his stomach with a sigh. ‘It’s perfect, really. We’re both here and this is what you wanted, isn’t it?’

  She raised her head and looked at him. ‘Isn’t it?’ she asked, something in his face making her suddenly uncertain of her reading of the situation. ‘I’m not going to be clingy or fall in love with you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Most of the time I don’t even like you.’

  There was a pause before he replied. ‘I did want this.’

  ‘Past tense?’

  ‘I do want this. Are you always this painfully frank?’

  ‘No, that’s just with you.’ Which seemed odd, but now wasn’t the moment to think about it because Gianni was kissing her.

  Th
e next morning when she opened her eyes the arms that had held her as she drifted off to sleep in the early hours were no longer wrapped around her. She turned her head and found the space beside her in the bed empty. He had left without waking her.

  Startled and a little alarmed by how much she wanted him to be there, she reached out a hand. The cotton sheet was cool under her stroking fingers but the material bore the imprint of his body, and when she pressed her face into the pillow she could smell the male scent of his skin and the fragrance of the soap he used.

  Her sensitive stomach flipped as she slipped from the bed, reaching for the robe that was looped over the back of a chair. Her expression was thoughtful as she belted it around her waist. So what next?

  No matter what the answer was, Miranda found she did not regret the night before. How could she? It had been perfect.

  Would it have been as perfect with Oliver?

  Could he have replicated the wild and passionate lovemaking? It was a struggle to think of Oliver doing anything untamed or passionate, and Gianni hadn’t just been passionate, he’d been at times during the night achingly tender and intuitively sensitive to her needs.

  Feeling a stab of guilt to find herself comparing the two men, she released the trapped curls from the neck of her robe and let them fall down her back. You couldn’t compare last night with what she had felt … did feel for Oliver. Last night had been sex—all right, great sex, but still just sex, not the deep and profound admiration and respect she felt for Oliver.

  Yeah, Mirrie, but would respect feel as good as the sweet golden moment when you felt him move and …? She shook her head and closed down the line of thought. Just sex, Mirrie. There’s no point making it something it isn’t. Just enjoy it—if there’s more on offer.

  If not … She tried to shrug and simply couldn’t even pretend she was fine about the idea of not spending at least one more night in bed with Gianni. The possibility that she would never have him take her to heaven again actually filled her with a sense of utter horror.

  She showered and changed quickly before running down to the kitchen. The room was empty but there were signs of recent occupation in the dirty dishes on the table and the soaking pan sitting in the sink.

  She walked over to the half-full coffee pot and, after feeling it was still hot poured herself a mug. She was taking her first sip and stretching to relieve the stiffness in muscles she had not used before when after a short tap the door swung inwards.

  A hand holding a bunch of carrots complete with a ribbon tied around the leafy tops was thrust into the room before a hangdog-looking Joe stepped inside.

  ‘A peace offering to apologise for being drunk and incapable last night. I was an idiot.’

  Miranda took the carrots, but refused with a smile his invite to dinner.

  ‘I blew it?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m just pretty busy here and …’ Her lashes swept downwards and she shrugged, smiling slightly as her eyes brushed the empty coffee cup on the table. ‘It’s not you, it’s …’ She stopped again and felt the flush rise up her neck.

  Joe gave a philosophical shrug. ‘It’s fine, you don’t have to explain. I knew the moment I saw you together there was something going on between you two.’

  He smiled at Miranda’s alarmed protest of, ‘We’d only just met!’ and excused himself. Gianni, with a muddy-booted Liam and the boisterous pack of dogs in tow, appeared just as a subdued Miranda was putting the last mug in the dishwasher. She had spent the time since Joe had gone thinking seriously about his comments and had come to the conclusion that she needed to cool things down; she had discovered sex, not fallen in love.

  She knew about love, and what she felt for Oliver bore no resemblance to the turbulent emotions that Gianni aroused in her. Forty per cent of the time she couldn’t stand him! Having established that she loved Oliver and Gianni was just a wildly attractive man and a perfect lover, she felt her anxiety dissipate.

  Then her heart almost stopped when she saw him. Dark hair mussed by the wind, he looked vibrant and so supremely masculine that Miranda didn’t even attempt to play it cool. What would be the point? Just looking at him sent her hormones into overdrive. She had no idea what was happening to her, she just knew that she had no more control over it than she did the elements.

  She pressed a hand to the wild pulse throbbing in her neck. ‘You’re back,’ she said, sounding breathless because she was.

  ‘Let her go, Liam,’ Gianni said to Liam, who had attached himself like a limpet to Miranda’s slim legs. He actually had some sympathy for the boy’s instincts. The idea of getting up close and personal was pretty hard to resist.

  ‘Can I play outside?’

  ‘Yes, you can, but don’t chase the hens,’ Gianni yelled after his son. When he had passed through the door he turned back to Miranda.

  His voice dropped to a low throaty purr as he stepped in closer. ‘I didn’t want to wake you. I thought you could do with the sleep.’ He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up; a slow grin tinged with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction spread across his lean face. ‘You’re blushing.’

  Miranda snatched her chin away and fixed him with a reproachful glare. ‘And you’re surprised.’ The things he could put in a smouldering glance could, she suspected, get them both arrested in some parts of the world. ‘I’ve less experience at this stuff than you.’

  ‘But you’re having fun catching up, I hope?’

  ‘Like you have any doubts.’ She could still not believe the things she had said to him under cover of darkness, and even thinking the things he had said back sent her temperature up several degrees.

  His rumble of amused laughter cut off suddenly.

  ‘What,’ he said, sounding grim and forbidding, ‘is that?’

  Following the direction of his dark and bewilderingly menacing stare, she saw the ribboned bunch of carrots. ‘Oh, those. Joe dropped by and gave them to me … Sweet of him, wasn’t it?’

  ‘He has been here?’

  She gave her Titian head a puzzled shake, confused by the overt hostility in his manner. ‘Obviously.’

  A muscle ticced in Gianni’s lean cheek as a wave of possessive fury so unfamiliar that he struggled to name it washed over him. He inhaled and dug his hands deep in his pockets. A snarl of dissatisfaction rumbled in his throat before he clamped his white, even teeth together.

  ‘Did you just growl? What on earth is wrong?’

  Gianni’s lip curled. It astonished him that she could ask the question. ‘Has the man not heard of flowers?’

  ‘Well, you can’t eat flowers,’ Miranda pointed out fairly. ‘And it’s the thought that counts.’

  ‘I do not like carrots.’ Since when? He mocked himself.

  ‘Well, I’ll eat them.’

  ‘You accepted a gift from him after the way he treated you last night.’

  ‘Gift!’ Her brows lifted. ‘A bunch of carrots, Gianni?’ His belligerent attitude continued to confuse her. ‘And he said sorry about that. What’s your problem anyway? You’re acting as though …’ She stopped her eyes flying wide. ‘You are—you’re jealous of Joe.’

  The muscles in his jaw quivered as Gianni lowered his lashes in an attempt to conceal the shock he knew he had not succeeded in totally controlling. Not that her accusation was true, though it was, he conceded, possible that he might have lost some perspective, but it was just so bloody frustrating that Miranda seemed blind to what he had seen within a second of laying eyes on the man. Under the affable nice-guy exterior this Joe was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  ‘I do not do jealousy.’

  Then he laughed and Miranda immediately felt totally stupid for blurting out anything so ludicrous.

  ‘You do know he’s only interested in getting into your pants?’

  She stiffened at the crudity. ‘And that makes him different from you how?’

  ‘You’re comparing me with that sandal-wearing, beer-swilling creep!’

  Miranda
smiled and heard his teeth grate. ‘That would be stupid—Joe is a great deal nicer.’

  He snorted in response and scowled. ‘Nice Oliver, nice Joe. Tell me, Mirrie, how come it’s not so nice Gianni who got you into bed? Could it be you have a weakness for something that is not so nice?’ He arched a sardonic brow. ‘A bit of rough, perhaps?’ His words were intended to cause offence and in this he succeeded!

  Miranda paled in temper. Her lips quivered. She had been here before and experience had taught her that she was only moments away from tears and becoming totally incoherent.

  ‘Go to hell, Gianni, you arrogant, smug sod!’

  She almost ran from the room in her anxiety to get away before she began to blub. Throwing one last look over her shoulder before she swept from the room, she saw him standing there with an expression stamped on his face that made it clear she wasn’t the only one with a temper.

  After a short, unrestrained bout of weeping she washed her face, went down to the kitchen and spent the rest of the afternoon making gallons of carrot and coriander soup and then a carrot cake. By the time she had finished decorating the cake with swirls of cream-cheese frosting she felt calmer.

  Miserable, but calmer.

  Gianni was avoiding her, and when their paths did cross—the house was not that big—he gave her the silent treatment, looking through her like glass. Miranda responded by leaving any room he entered, proving if nothing else that she could be just as childish as him.

  It was Liam, clearly primed to act as a go-between, who opened the lines of communication.

  ‘Daddy is taking me to have fish and chips for supper as a treat. He says do you want to come?’

  ‘Tell Daddy …’ She paused as a tall figure appeared in the doorway.

  ‘There’s an award-winning place about ten miles away. It’s kind of a tradition when we come to stay here to go and have fish and chips.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, inclining her head with stiff formality. ‘But I’m not that hungry.’

  He shrugged. ‘Rain check, then?’

  She watched as he helped Liam on with his coat, knowing that by refusing the olive branch he had extended she had effectively surrendered the moral high ground.