Her hand trembled over his and he slipped his hands over hers so she couldn’t let go.
“You were always so much better at that than me.”
“What are your instincts telling you now?”
She didn’t speak immediately and he knew he was going to receive a half-truth.
“They’re telling me many things. But I’m only prepared to listen to some of them.”
He heaved a ragged sigh as he felt the silk of her hair brush against his cheek.
“Dio! I hope they’re the same instincts that are calling to me at this moment.” He slipped his arm around her and drew her to him until the fresh citrusy smell of her hair and the faint remnants of her perfume filled his lungs. His heart thudded in his chest, wanting her so much, but not wanting to take what didn’t belong to him. Despite what he wanted, her needs were paramount. It had to come from her. “Are they?”
CHAPTER NINE
Isabella moved her lips, trying to form the words that were proving elusive. God, her brain was proving elusive, so close to Luca. Instead, she stepped away. He frowned briefly until she smiled, a smile she hoped would convey what her instincts were telling her. She continued to walk and pull him behind her, down the steps that led to the beach. He followed her, their pace increasing until he stopped and touched her hair.
“Your hair, it’s falling out of its knot.”
She didn’t bother to touch it. Simply held his gaze and shook her head, allowing the remainder of the hair to escape. “I don’t think I’m going to win this one.”
He stepped down onto the sand ahead of her, his body a dark silhouette against the remaining light. She was aware of a restrained sense of power: in his stance and in his hand as he took hold of hers. He knew what he wanted and knew he was going to get it. He pulled her down off the boardwalk and onto the sand.
“My shoes…”
“Take them off.”
A thrill at his short command shot through her body and she slipped out of them. She wriggled her feet in the soft abrasive sand, relishing its chill against her soft skin.
The breeze was warm but strong and, as they walked along, she couldn’t take her eyes off Luca’s body: his white shirt glowed in the dusk, clinging to his muscles, flat against his chest and shoulders and billowing out behind.
She slipped an arm around his waist, her fingers searching beneath the loose shirt for his warm skin. He reacted immediately. She felt the intensity of his eyes upon her as if they were a bright light exposing her. She couldn’t meet his gaze and looked out to the sea—dark except for the wind-whipped surface—and imagined what he was seeing.
“You know, Luca, I never understood what you saw in me.”
He stopped in his tracks, his grip on her hand complete. “Stop, Isabella, look at me.” He pushed his fingers into her hair, loosening it further from its bindings and held her head firmly. “I see now what I saw. A girl who is sharp and clever, a girl who is sensitive and loving, a girl for whom my body yearns. But I see something else now which pains me.”
“What is that?”
“A girl who’s hurt. It destroys me to not be able to take away that hurt.”
A dry, empty sob rent through her body, cracking and dissolving all remaining doubt and she turned to him, not able to sustain the emotional distance between them any longer. His lips met hers with a fierce heat that drove everything from her mind, everything but the need to feel more. All the frustrations, hurt and anger were powered into the intensity of their mouths moving, one upon another, almost devouring in their urgency to find each other and to taste each other.
Luca was the first to pull away, his hands moving from her shoulder blades down into the small of her back and lower. His hands dipped down to the back of her thighs where he scooped up the diaphanous dress and shifted his hands up under it, heating the bare skin of her legs before settling around her bottom where he pulled her to him.
“Cara, I want you.” His words were spoken against her skin; his hot breath sent shivers running down the length of her body, corresponding to the wet heat within.
She trembled under the pressure of his fingers. He was hot against hers, pressing against her with a need which she experienced in equal measure. He didn’t wait for an answer—perhaps he didn’t even need one, her body gave full answer anyway—but captured her lips with his own once more. Her arms snaked up around his neck and she pushed her fingers through his hair, so strong and thick. He pulled away. Their foreheads met, their chests heaving and pounding against each other, their mouths breathless with want.
“Then take me, Luca.”
He didn’t need telling twice and his mouth descended to hers—hot and searching—and his hands slid up and around her, holding her possessively and close.
She was drowning in sensation. There was nothing except Luca. The thud of his heart, felt and heard through her body, was as fundamental and powerful to her as the dull roar of the sea, like the blood in her ears. And the feel of his lips and hands upon her, was as essential as the air upon her skin.
But suddenly he pulled away. She curled her hand around his neck and tried to bring his head back to hers once more. But she felt only the curve of his lips as they formed a smile against her lips before he withdrew again.
“But I can’t. Not here. We have no protection.”
Their lips met again in a brief kiss before he took her hand and pulled her after him.
They ran along the darkening beach. It was empty and the long twilight cast a veil over reality. She was barely aware of her surroundings: only conscious of her struggle to find a firm footing in the soft sand so she could run faster, driven by the urgent demands of her body. He stopped at the foot of the wooden steps that led up to the house and kissed her—a deep, breathless kiss. Then they ran up the steps and through the open doors, a stream of sand following them onto the pristine surface.
He pulled her into the master suite and stopped suddenly, turning her round to face him, tilting her face to the light and then pressing his lips to hers.
His hands drew up her bare legs, cupping her bottom and drawing her to him. He was hard against her and she pushed aside his shirt with frantic hands as her need to touch his skin grew uncontrollable. His muscles flexed under her touch and she was aware of his quickened heartbeat as his fingers pushed up inside her panties, until his hands gripped her bare flesh and the taut fabric increased the pressure against flesh that throbbed with need.
She responded instinctively to the latent strength of his body—which was held back, restrained—and kissed his heated skin, breathing him in deeply and reveling in her power as she felt the effect of her mouth on him: his breathing coming shorter, his body trembling with suppressed desire.
As his hands pushed her panties down, she tried to undo the last remaining button on his shirt but her fingers, clumsy with need, fumbled and it wouldn’t budge. The frustrations of years culminated in a spike of passionate anger as she tore the shirt open, leaving the obstinate button still attached, but his taut, smoothly muscled stomach available to her trembling hands and mouth. She sank against his chest and pressed her mouth to his skin, tasting, kissing, inhaling him.
“Turn around.” His voice was gruff and in command and she knew that the restrained power she’d felt, was surfacing.
She stepped back unsteadily and he caught her and turned her around. Everything was heightened: her body was tense with need for him, jumpy to every touch but she had no option but to do what he said. His hands were too strong and their mutual need, too great.
She shivered as he pushed her hair away and slid down the side zip. She arched back against him as he slipped his hand inside her dress. Her stomach jumped under his touch and throbbed with a deep, intensifying need as he nuzzled the side of her neck. His hand then slipped lower, one finger barely touching where she needed to be touched. She pushed back farther, standing on her toes to allow him access to the place where all her sensations coalesced. But he didn’t touch her
there.
Instead, he withdrew his hands and swept down her dress until it lay pooled around her ankles. She stepped out of it, her heart beating twice as fast now she stood apart from him, their bodies not touching. She could feel his control. But she didn’t want his control. She pressed back against his chest and felt the hardness of his erection pressing against her soft skin. She wriggled lightly against him.
“First things first, contessa. The rest, as beautiful as it is, has to go.” She reached around to unclasp her necklace but he halted her hand with his. “Keep the pearls on, they are a part of you. But this—no.” He traced his finger over the top of her breasts where the line of lace began before unclipping her bra from behind.
The bra fell to the floor and he turned her in his arms. His eyes were dark with desire as his hands took hold of her breasts, cupping them before describing one firm circular movement with his thumbs that tugged and tightened her need within.
She tried to draw him close but his hands slipped under her and he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He lay her down and knelt above her.
“Let me look at you.”
He took hold of her hands and kissed her closed knuckles, each one, tight white in the moonlight and stretched them out behind her head. The movement shifted her bare breast and her nipple grew harder as his eyes and breath lingered on it. Involuntarily, she moved her breast closer to his mouth but he didn’t take it immediately. She couldn’t tell his thoughts in the semi-dark, guarded by the shadows and by his hair that fell over his face, showing only lips that parted slowly as he came closer, breathing her in, making her flesh goose-bump under his breath.
Then, when she thought she could bear it no longer, he dipped his head and kissed her soft flesh on all four sides surrounding the nipple that moved under his mouth. It bent toward his lips as he moved across to the other side. She thrust her hands in his hair and tried to pull him onto her more fully but he resisted, slowly dipping his head and flicking his tongue over her nipple. But as her hands roamed his body she knew that he couldn’t resist her for much longer. As her fingers found his tip, his whole mouth fell over her nipple and he suckled hard. She jerked her head back and moaned as the spiraling intensified inside. She shifted her legs to accommodate his weight wanting that weight, now more than ever, between her legs.
He eased himself back, pushing harder onto her hips and watched the rise and fall of her breasts before he dipped his head and suckled both breasts, one after the other—hard—and she cried out, unable to hold on any longer.
Then he moved down: his tongue exploring the curves and valleys of her body, stopping at the scar that was the site of her injury. He reached down and kissed her scar, breathing her in as he did so.
“I wish I’d known years ago about this. I’d have kissed the pain away.”
“Some scars go deeper.”
“Then I shall kiss those away too.” He caught her lips with his own and made sure that no more words were uttered, that there was no mention of any more scars, any more pain, only pleasure.
Isabella had forgotten how his lips could rob her of her thoughts, and break down the separation between their bodies, until there was only one feeling, only one sensation they both shared. But, like seven years before, kissing wasn’t enough.
He stood up and deftly removed the trousers that she’d half undone. He opened a packet and swiftly rolled on a condom and returned to her. He knelt back on the bed and drew his hands up under her hips and kissed her intimately, his tongue teasing and tasting until she could stand it no longer and pulled him up to face her.
He hesitated, his eyes searching her face before he kissed her. She held his head in her hands, urging him for contact as her legs slid up the sides of his and wrapped around him, drawing him into her, slowly so slowly that she gasped with each exquisite movement inside her. How could she have forgotten such bliss? He filled her so completely in every way.
Once inside her he held himself there, looking down at her, as if unable to move. But she couldn’t hold on and came suddenly just at him being inside her, at the tensions in and around her body, so subtly stimulated. She trembled and pulsed around him and she saw the effect of her body on him, as he started to move in her, pulling away before pushing deeply once more. His rhythm slowly increased and, as it did, her own sensations began to spiral out of control once more until he held her and thrust, short, sharp thrusts deep inside her and she clung to him, her lips finding his neck and tasting him there, before they both came in an explosive climax and they held themselves, tense, close for a brief moment, before falling back against the bed, sated.
Luca gathered her in his arms and rolled onto his side, holding her tight against him, still inside her, feeling her still trembling body all around him. He kissed her face, his hold on her fiercely possessive. “Why has it never been like this with anyone else, Isabella?”
She shook her head as she nestled into his neck. “I can’t answer that, Luca, because I’ve never been with anyone else.”
“In seven years?”
There was a part of him that was pleased: a possessive, very male part. She was still his—his Isabella, still his. He felt himself harden at the thought and touch of her and he thrust deep inside her and watched her respond: her eyes closed, eyelids fluttering, and swollen lips parted. He held himself there, waiting for a long moment. Then her hips rose to meet his in invitation and he pulled out slowly, so slowly until only the tip of him was within her lips and then he sunk down into her delicious depth once more and lost himself in forgotten pleasure.
The pale light of a new day crept in so slowly that Isabella was barely aware that the day was dawning until Luca’s fingers’ softly trailed down her side, outlining the curve of her breast and the peak of her nipple as it responded to his touch. She turned to look at him, her breast conveniently falling into his hand as she did so.
“So it wasn’t a dream. You’re still here.”
“I’m not going anywhere, cara.”
“I was dreaming of the first time we made love. Do you remember?”
“Of course. I couldn’t believe that such a quiet girl had such a depth of passion.”
“And I couldn’t believe that a man could be so gentle, so loving. But it was afterwards. I felt then, what I feel now. Just right. Content. We lay under your coat as the night air made me chill.”
“And listened to your father walk up to your door, try the handle and then leave.”
She withdrew her hand but he captured it in his own again. “I’d never been so scared.”
“I had no idea. If I had, I would have—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Don’t talk of him. Tell me about you. You never did tell me what made you take the job at the castello.”
He squeezed her hand and lay back, his eyes turned to the pure white ceiling along which shadows flickered.
“The only reason I took the job at the castello was to get back at my father. He hated the fact that grandmother worked there and getting a job there seemed the best way to show him that I wanted nothing to do with him.” His hand stroked hers in a rhythm she sensed was automatic as his mind strayed back in time.
“Why did you bother? Surely he’d never have known?” Isabella frowned.
“He wanted me back in his life when he discovered I’d be his only son.”
“And so you chose to work at the castello rather than to work in your father’s business?”
“Yes. That about sums it up. I returned home after University.” He grinned. “A great disappointment to my father.”
Isabella rolled over and put her arms around him, resting her cheek on his chest. “I’m so sorry, Luca. Sorry for that little boy, needing so much and receiving only rejection from the very people who should have given him everything.”
He lay very still for a long time and she watched as his expression became thoughtful, a slight frown pressing down upon his eyes, shadowing them, as if re-playing her words over in
his mind. Then the frown lifted and he smiled and slowly trailed his hand down the side of her body, in at the waist before resting on the curves of her bottom.
“You know. Growing up I thought I would never have children. I never wanted to inflict on them what my father had inflicted on me. But when your mother told me you’d aborted our child, I was devastated. Believing you’d got rid our child changed everything for me, in so many ways that you have no comprehension of.”
“Try me.”
His fingers traced some unknown pattern on her skin as if he were trying to work out a solution to a puzzle.
“You know, of course, that I was married”
“Yes. Your grandmother told me. Not happily.”
“Indeed. Not happily. It turns out she wanted money more than me.” He smiled ruefully. “And I ignored all the signs. You know why?” He suddenly held her gaze and Isabella froze. “Because she was pregnant and refused to even contemplate getting rid of the child. I wanted someone like that: someone who wanted me, who would commit to me. Who would accept our child into her life.”
“But, you have no child. What happened?”
He held her gaze now, keeping her hands tight within his own.
“I do have a child, Isabella. I do. Her name is Allegra.”
Isabella rolled onto her back and tried to pull her hands from his but he wouldn’t let them go. Angry now, she yanked her hands away and rose from the bed, plucking a gown from the back of the chair and wrapping it firmly around her body. She pushed her hair off her face, looking every which way but at him as the anger mounted. Only then did she turn to him.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Luca? Why?” Her voice trembled on the last word.
“For obvious reasons. You were out of my life and she was all my life was about. And now that we are close once more. Now that it’s time to tell you, I have.”
Isabella felt cold and sick. “You have a child? And you accused me of keeping the truth from you?”
Seduced by the Italian Page 11