Full Exposure

by Diana Duncan

  So be it.

  She placed her palm in his, and he lifted her up to stand at his side. His arm slid around her waist, tucked her close, and he grinned at the furious battle boiling toward them over the waves. “Magnificent, yes?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. And far beyond her control.

  Utterly terrifying.

  They stood together and embraced the storm. And instead of destruction, Ariana saw artistry. She cast aside fear and thrilled in the power of the wind and thunder and flashing lighting.

  She lifted her face to the heavens, and raindrops sprinkled her skin with cool, glittering diamonds. Here was beauty. Excitement. An unstoppable force under the control of a spirit mightier than any mere human’s.

  Sparkling vitality surged through her, making her giddy. She laughed, reveling in the bliss of relinquishing control. She’d never felt more aware. More alive.

  Dante turned his head and their eyes locked. His umber gaze burned brilliant with passion. She understood his need to challenge the elements. His exhilaration at defying life and death and destiny.

  His desire to tempt the Fates.

  She had always found security in planning ahead, foreseeing every detail. She didn’t know if they would have a future. But they had today. Today was enough.

  His arm tightened, swung her to face him. He lowered his head, and she read his intent to kiss her in his eyes. And surged up to meet him.

  If she was going to get burned, she would at least savor the memory of one wild dance in the flames.

  Dante tasted of rain…and his kiss devoured her. He drank from her mouth, consumed her. Yet he gave back more, filled her with sensation, emotions.

  She needed him in a way that she had never needed anyone.

  He thrust his fingers into her hair, pulled her closer and immersed her in the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, yearning to meld with his hard body. A vibrating cannonade of thunder echoed the thudding of his heartbeat.

  He kissed her until she was breathless and trembling. His soft lips cruised her jaw, and she tipped her head back, offering her neck. He claimed the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, then roved downward to nip at the taut cord where her neck met her shoulder. Blissful shivers sped over her skin.

  Dante’s fingertips feathered over her face, followed the line of her throat, then fisted in the collar of the sport coat and yanked it down her arms. He flung the coat aside, tugged her sweater up and stripped it off her. Her camisole followed, leaving her in her bra. “Sei bella,” he breathed.

  You are beautiful. Awed desire flared in his eyes, and scrambled her pulse, flooded her with warmth.

  He captured her mouth in another demanding kiss even as he shrugged out of his coat and it dropped to the ground. As wild and powerful as the storm crashing over them, he was no timid suitor. But she wasn’t afraid. She welcomed the tempest. Gloried in it.

  Ariana thrust her hands beneath Dante’s T-shirt and slid her palms from his stomach to his chest, loving the play of heated skin and hard muscles flexing beneath her touch. She teased his flat nipples, thrilled when he hissed in a breath.

  She grasped the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it up. The shirt followed his coat to the ground, and she returned his smile. “Sei bello.”

  Dante gave a husky laugh. His hands raced up her spine, tossed aside her bra. Her nipples grazed his bare chest, slick and wet with rain, and tingles zipped through her. He groaned. “Dio, mi fai impazzire.”

  “Oh!” She gasped when he dipped his head and his warm tongue licked a raindrop from her nipple. He was making her crazy, too.

  Lightning blazed in the sky and in her belly as he bowed her over his arm and suckled hard, one nipple, then the other. Pleasure spiraled inside her, every cell taut and trembling.

  She needed him so badly she ached with it. Ariana moaned. She was close…already. So fast. So close.

  When she was quaking, teetering, when blinding need screamed inside her for release, he bent and kissed her stomach.

  “Hurry, Dante,” she panted. “I need you.”

  “And I, you.” Breathing hard and fast, he unbuttoned her pants, shoved them down her hips. She kicked off her shoes, and he yanked her free of her pants. He swept her panties down and off, and she stood naked before him.

  “Tesoro.” He went to his knees as if to worship her. Looked up at her as if she were his most cherished possession. “Ti adoro.” His fingertips reverently traced the damp curves of her body from shoulders to hip. He cupped her bottom in his hands, drew her toward him and then his mouth closed over her in the most intimate kiss of all.

  Cool rain sluiced her skin while Dante’s hot mouth ignited a molten inferno inside her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she threw her head back, trusting him to anchor her body while her spirit soared. His silky tongue drove her higher and higher. Lightning sizzled, thunder exploded.

  Ariana’s heart galloped, her body quivered. Gasping for breath, she would have fallen if Dante hadn’t held her, taut and shaking on the edge of forever.

  Then he pushed her over.

  She flung out her arms, let go…and tumbled into ecstasy. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure crested over her, and her knees crumpled.

  Dante’s strong arms supported her, bore her down to lie on his coat. “Ariana.” Her name was a whisper of adoration as he rose over her, unzipped his pants. “Look at me.” Cradling her face in his hands, he held her gaze and thrust into her.

  Their connection was instantaneous, electric. The glide of heat sent a thousand aftershocks sparkling through her. He filled every empty place inside her body and her heart, and she uttered a cry, arched against him.

  Dante’s big body shook. He groaned. “I am undone.”

  His breathing ragged, he drove into her, murmuring to her in a soft, broken mixture of English and Italian. “Give me everything, Ariana. Let me give to you.”

  Bonded body to body, heart to heart, soul to soul, she looked into his eyes…and saw love.

  Raindrops misted her face, mingled with scalding tears of joy. Sobbing for breath, clinging to his gaze, she let him take her up again.

  This time when she leaped, she cried out his name. And he flew with her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SHELTERED BENEATH DANTE, Ariana trembled in the afterglow of pleasure, wreathed in bliss. The storm raged around them. The warmth of her tumultuous lover’s rapid breaths tingled in her ear. The thudding of his pounding heart sang to hers.

  He groaned and raised his head to look at her. “Are you cold?”

  Ariana grinned at his dazed expression. She’d put that stunned look on his handsome face. She had a feeling she appeared pretty bedazzled herself. “There’s steam rolling off us.”

  “Un momento.” His unsteady chuckle was hoarse as he dropped his head back into the curve of her neck and snuggled in. “I do not think I can walk at the moment.”

  Their joined body heat quickly dissipated in the chilly rain, and he gently withdrew from her and zipped up. Amusement tickled her. While she was buck naked, Dante hadn’t wasted the time to remove his jeans…or his boots.

  He gathered their scattered clothes, then scooped her up coat and all and carried her toward the cottage.

  When she started to shiver, he scowled. “I—”

  She clapped her hand over his mouth. “If you apologize for what just happened, I’m seriously going to hurt you.”

  His obsidian gaze grew somber.

  Regrets, so soon?

  “I am not sorry for making love to you. Merely the time and place I chose.”

  “We didn’t choose the time and place. It chose us.”

  “In either case, what’s done is done.” As her teeth began to chatter, he hugged her close and broke into a jog. “But I do not want you to catch a chill.”

  He kicked open the door, swept her inside the house and into the bathroom. He deposited her in the tub, stoppered the drain and cranked on steaming water. “This will warm you.”


  She leaned back, luxuriating in hot silky water flowing over her cold skin. Dante’s touch had awoken every sensual nerve and tender emotion. Loving him had brought her to life.

  While the tub filled, he tugged off his boots and prowled in damp jeans and bare feet, carrying in a lantern and hanging their clothes beside the fire.

  “Dante,” she called, “would you please hand me the soap?”

  “Of course.” He retrieved it from the sink, leaned over and held it out.

  “Thanks.” She grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the huge bathtub with her.

  Hot water geysered, and he surfaced, sputtering. “What the—”

  She laughed. “You looked cold, too.”

  “I’m sitting in the bath wearing my pants,” he muttered.

  “Well, I know you only take them off when they’re wet.” He slanted her a wry glance, and she wiped her dripping face. “I have something important to tell you.”

  Dante went rigid, his gaze wary. He sat up and shoved his wet hair back. “I am listening.”

  Pain hitched in her chest, but she ignored it. She would get serious and think about repercussions later. “You, Signor Sexy, are yummier than any chocolate fudge cake.”

  His laughter shook the tub. Erotic intent gleamed in his eyes as he crawled up her body. “Then you won’t mind a second helping.”

  After a tempestuous, breathtaking bath, Ariana accepted Dante’s helping hand out of the tub. She was none too steady on her feet. She laughed at the water covering the tile floor. “At least this time I managed to get you out of your jeans, but you made everything sopping wet.”

  He gave her the innocent face. “I was not splashing and screaming.”

  She wrapped her tingling body in a towel. “I don’t scream.” When his eyes glinted, she relented. “Okay, maybe on special occasions. I might let you wager on that later.” She rose on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his soft lips. “You were quite…ah…innovative.”

  His grin widened as he draped a towel around his lean hips. “Sì. Being in the water doesn’t normally lend itself to—” Shock blanched his face. He flung out his hands and began to pace the bathroom, castigating himself in furious Italian.

  “Dante?” She couldn’t keep up with the turbulent swearing. “Slow down! What—”

  “I cannot believe it.” Temper blazed in his eyes. “I am un idiot,” he fumed. “I only thought about having you. Not protecting you.”

  Her stomach bottomed out. If either of them had stopped to think, they wouldn’t have made love at all. “Neither did I.”

  “I have never—” He swore again. “How could I forget?”

  “Whoa. Cancel the reservations for the guilt trip.” She grabbed his arm and swung him around. “I use a monthly patch, and I applied a new one right before you kidnapped me.” She did a quick calculation. “We’re probably fine.”

  “Probably?” His eyes narrowed.

  Oddly, the idea of having Dante’s baby didn’t upset her. She filed the conundrum to her growing “ponder later” list. “It’s a little late to worry about locking the stable door after the stallion has run amok.”

  He shot her an enigmatic look. He fought it, but his lips twitched. Then he snickered, and finally, he gave a crack of laughter. “Stallion?”

  She patted his forearm. “Let’s put a dry bandage on your stitches and go rustle up dinner.”

  Inside the pantry, she scanned barren shelves. “Not much. Canned tomatoes, dried pasta, cheese and herbs from the garden.”

  He peered over her shoulder, then planted a kiss on top of her head. “I will cook you something wonderful.” He left and quickly returned dressed in the burgundy sweater, borrowed pants and his coat. And carrying the ax.

  “What kind of dinner are you fixing with an ax?”

  “Chicken cacciatore.”

  She cringed, but he strode out before she could comment. She knew where the food in the supermarket came from, but in-your-face reality was brutal.

  Dante’s jeans had taken so long to dry earlier, Ariana decided to wring them out and put them in a pan, which she slid into the oven on low heat. She put her cargo pants in with his, and hung their lighter clothing beside the fire. She slit the seam of a throw pillow from the settee to hide her iPod and notebook inside. It was the best she could do in the small cottage. She knew Dante the man. Trusted Dante the lover. But she wasn’t sure about Dante the thief.

  Soon, they would run out of food. She would have to reconcile herself to getting into a tiny ruin of a boat and rowing out to sea. Back in the real world, she and Dante would be forced into confrontation and she would have to leave him.

  But not here, not now.

  Ariana plaited her unruly wet hair into a French braid before donning the tight wool slacks and cream sweater once again. Since her underwear was still damp, she went commando.

  She lit the candelier over the table, trying not to dwell on the drama happening outside. How long did it take to murder…no…butcher…

  Finally, Dante blew in the back door, slamming it on the shrieking wind and lashing rain. He was dripping wet…and empty-handed.

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry. “You couldn’t catch a chicken?”

  “I caught one.” She waited, and he shrugged. “The skinny, cocky little rooster reminded me of myself as a boy, scratching a hardscrabble living out of the dirt.” He dropped his chagrined gaze. “I could not bring myself to kill him.”

  He didn’t have the heart to kill a chicken. She ran to him, flung her arms around his neck. I love you. The words shimmered in her heart, trembled on her lips, and she bit them back. She’d seen Dante’s emotions when they’d made love, but he wasn’t ready to acknowledge his feelings. If she blurted hers, he would raise his defenses. She smiled at him. “That’s okay, we’ll have chickenless cacciatore.”

  He hugged her. “I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

  “Oh, I’m a new fan of improvisation, tough guy.”

  Laughing, he kissed the tip of her nose. He stepped back, and his admiring glance roamed her body, lingered on her unfettered breasts cupped by the tight sweater. “So I see.” One glossy brow arched as his eyes fired. “I like the ensemble even better than before.”

  As if he’d touched her with the warm stroke of his gaze, her body tightened in anticipation.

  Dante insisted on cooking, so Ariana set the table and poured wine. It wasn’t long before Dante carried a skillet brimming with a spicy-smelling creation to the table.

  As rain pummeled the roof and spattered the windowpanes, they discussed music, art, philosophies, and even politics, as if they were longtime lovers sharing a meal, not captor and captive in an isolated cottage on a rocky Greek island.

  When she was finished, Ariana rested her fork across her empty plate. “That was four-star delicious.”

  “Grazie. You clear, and I will wash up.”

  “You won the bet. I should wash the dishes.”

  “Tesoro mio, you gave me a kiss.” His voice was rich with innuendo. “And so much more.”

  Her skin tingled with passion. “It was freely given. No strings, no expectations.”

  He covered her fingers with his and gently squeezed. “Which makes the gift all the more precious.”

  Tears blurred her vision as she rose to clear the table. Their lovemaking hadn’t been merely physical for him, either.

  While Dante washed dishes, she investigated the gramophone, delighted to find recordings by Puccini, Donizetti and Bellini. She cranked the machine’s handle, and the first scratchy strains of “Lucia di Lammermoor” floated into the air.

  “Bravo.” Dante sauntered into the living area. “That opera was based on a true story, you know this?”

  “Yes.” She straightened. “And a tragic one.”

  His profile turned thoughtful. “Great passion often ends badly.”

  The reality of their own situation lurked beneath his words, and she pivoted to stare out the window into the howli
ng storm.

  “Ariana?” She hadn’t heard him move, but he stood behind her now. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “When a woman says nothing in that tone, she means everything.” His hands settled on her shoulders. “Are you suffering second thoughts now? Regrets?”

  “Absolutely not.” Not about their intimacy. She leaned back against his solid warmth and nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder. “The weather must be making me jittery.”

  His arms enfolded her, wrapped her in his strength. “The gale cannot touch us here.”

  But they would not be here forever.

  “No need to be afraid.” His fingers slipped the fastening from her braid and stroked through her thick hair. “I hope you don’t mind. I adore your beautiful hair.”

  The hard ridge of his arousal grazed her bottom, and her breathing quickened. “Dante, I’m not sure we should tempt…”

  He nuzzled her nape, making her pulse leap in response. “Ah, tesoro.” The caress of his black velvet voice brushed her ear, feathered over her skin. “There are many ways of making love.”

  Her eyelids drifted closed. And he probably knew them all.

  The music soared, drowned out the wind and rain. In one graceful movement, he grasped her hand in his, gave her a little push and spun her around to tug her into his embrace. “Dance with me.”

  She looked up and got tangled in the sensual smolder of his smoky gaze and dazzling smile. The man could blitz her with charm. All of it genuine. “All right.”

  “You look sad, Ariana.” He smiled at her as he took her in his arms. “Tell me about your dreams—if life were different, if you weren’t a librarian, what would you be?”

  She swayed in sync with his sinuous rhythm. No surprise, he was as magnificent at dancing as he was lovemaking. “I’ve always wanted to write an epic fantasy novel,” she confessed. “I’d love to be the next J.R.R. Tolkien.”

  “So what is stopping you?”

  “Good question.” She mulled it over. “Dad encouraged my writing. There was a frustrated storyteller inside him. I think that’s why he loved legends so much. Mom thought a steady paycheck with benefits was more valuable. Yin versus yang. I enjoy being a librarian, but in the end, practicality canceled daydreams.”