by Kat Walters
"Alessandro… please."
He pressed his lips to her inner thigh, kissed lightly, moving up, getting closer and closer to where his hand rested, tormenting her with its stillness.
"Please what? What is it you want?"
"You," she keened, writhing impatiently.
He groaned, his self-control almost shattered. Deliberately, slowly he pressed his mouth to her other thigh, and she cried out.
"This is cruel, Alessandro."
"I am cruel, Isabella. You know this."
"I know," it was a moan and then a gasp as at last he moved his hand and replaced it with his mouth.
Alessandro felt the rising, coiling tension in her body and slipped two fingers inside her to intensify her orgasm. Her release when it happened nearly shattered him. She screamed his name in ecstasy, her whole body trembling as she arched back before collapsing down again.
The shock reverberated through his body, leaving him raw, exposed. He watched her come down, her breathing slower now. She kept her eyes closed, and he was relieved. He didn't want to see in them what he'd seen earlier… the loneliness, the need.
Isabella sighed and tapped her fingers restlessly against the table. What was wrong with her? She was in a paradise location, and she was bored. Bored, impatient, irritable, hurt, a little voice whispered. No. I'm not hurt. Alessandro owes me nothing. I wanted to have sex with Alessandro. I wanted that experience, and… you can't say he didn't deliver, Izzy. She shivered, remembering her night with Alessandro. It was more than she could have ever hoped for. It was…over. One night.
Isabella stared down at the turquoise waters, trying to will some emotion other than frustration. Hurt whispered that little voice again, annoying her enough that she exhaled loudly.
"I refuse to be hurt." She told the empty terrace. "And now I'm talking to myself," she muttered irritably, pushing herself up and walking off into the garden. She tipped her head back to feel the last rays of the sun on her face. Soon the sun would be setting, casting its many colors across the ocean, tinging the blue with orange and pink. Every night the beauty of the sunsets took her breath away. The way Alessandro took your breath away? That cheeky voice whispered again.
Stop. She did stop. At the steep flight of steps that led down to the pool. A pool she knew well after three days on her own. Isabella flopped down onto the top step and sighed again. This villa was nothing but a beautiful prison. One week together in Sardinia? He had given her one night. Stop, stop, stop! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and stop thinking about Alessandro. Alex. Her thoughts stuttered to a halt. Alex. She could still recall the look in his eyes when she had called him that. Shock and then…need. Alex. Her Alex.
No. He was Alessandro DeLaurentis. He belonged to no one. He certainly didn't belong to her, and he never would. The man she married would be…less. "Aaaargh," Isabella growled in frustration. "Stop thinking about him." She didn't want to stop thinking about him. She wanted to remember everything about that night. She rested her chin on her hand and sighed, again. Alessandro was turning her into a woman who sighed.
Isabella looked down at the pool, and then her eyes wandered down the path towards the private beach. Like the pool, she knew the beach too well. She had explored the entire area on the first day and again on the second, and once more today. She should be happy. She was keeping Anna safe, and all she'd had to do was spend one night with Alessandro.
One night.
I always lose interest after one week.
With her, it had been one night. Isabella had woken the following morning on her own. In her own bed. No ambiguity there. A politely worded note left on the breakfast table informed her that Alessandro had returned to Rome but would be back as soon as he could get away.
Admittedly, her initial feeling had been relief. If one week was all they could have, she didn't want to feel any more for him than she did already. She didn't want to know Alessandro. She didn't want to be held in his arms. She didn't want to fight with him or make love to him or talk to him.
Liar.
Isabella looked at the view again, wishing she could find some peace in it. She couldn't. The initial relief at her solitude had lasted only a few hours. Now all she did was wait. Wait for Alessandro to tell her he was done with her. He would never be so cruel as to say it. Alessandro wasn't cruel, no matter what he said. She wished he was, though. If he would just phone her and tell her he was bored… It would hurt, but that would be good. She would be free to leave then. If he had no intention of coming back to her, then she could go home.
Home?
London.
Alessandro probably thought he was sparing her feelings, keeping her here for the whole week. His disappearance made it clear that he was done. He'd been curious about the chemistry between them, and now he was done. Curiosity satisfied. Except for her, it wasn't done. She couldn't stop thinking about that night. She couldn't stop thinking about his hands and his lips, the feel of him inside her.
Isabella growled in frustration and pushed herself up. She needed to do something. Actually do, not think. Do. She returned to the table and looked despondently at the food there. Sofia had prepared a lovely meal for her, and she had barely touched it. She had no appetite, not for food anyway, that wicked voice whispered again. She sighed in frustration. What woman in her right mind didn't want to stay in a luxury villa in Sardinia? Alessandro probably thought he was being generous, leaving her here instead of sending her straight back to London.
Isabella didn't want him to be generous. If he was done with her, she wanted to go back to her life. She wanted to start her life. She wanted to start dancing again. Really dancing. Not just teaching dance but really dancing, performing.
Isabella stepped through the glass doors into the darkened villa and prowled around the empty rooms. Another night on her own. She felt on edge. Restless, angry, aching, wanting… Alessandro. She stopped in the living room and stared out of the large glass doors. The sky was darker now, shot through with orange and red. She pulled the door open and breathed in the smell of the lemon groves and the pine trees that surrounded the property. A warm breeze stirred her hair and caressed her face. Isabella closed her eyes, breathing in the warmth and the smells… and she knew then what she wanted to do. What she always wanted to do. Smiling for the first time in days, Isabella started pushing the furniture aside.
Syncing her phone up to Alessandro's state-of-the-art sound system, Isabella found the collection she needed. The routine that always helped her when she needed to blow off steam. The first few songs were classic rock, fast and loud, and she surrendered herself to the music. Uninhibited and free. As her heart began to pound and her body to ache, the music shifted. It became more soulful, and her body slowed to a languid, sensual motion. Pain and heartache flowed through her, but she let it. There was no one here to see her.
The pain in the music mirrored her own pain, the longing she heard intensified her own longing, but the dancing cleansed her. Those pent-up feelings washed through her, out of her, and she felt stronger for it. She stopped moving, her eyes still closed. Not wanting to break the connection to the music, she tipped her head back and breathed. That was all. She breathed and, at that moment, with nothing but the music and her heartbeat loud in her ears, she knew she would survive this. Her heart was strong enough to survive Alessandro.
As she acknowledged this, she realized something else. Awareness tingled through her body, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Alessandro didn't need to make a sound. She knew. All he had to do was look at her, and her body recognized him. She opened her eyes and found his in the gathering darkness.
"Do you always dance in the dark?" His voice was rough, and the intensity she heard in it shot fire through her. Isabella didn't need to think about what she wanted. The music continued to swell around them as she walked towards him. It was loud, blocking out all her thoughts and breaking down her inhibitions. She was still breathing hard but standing this close to him, she noticed th
at he was too. His usually smooth jaw was rough with stubble, and she reached up, cupped his cheek. She loved the rough feel of it against her hand. His breath caught at her touch, but other than that, he didn't move.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, she stretched up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. Alessandro didn't reach for her or pull her closer. She stepped back so she could see his eyes, but he gave her no clue to his thoughts. His eyes scanned her face as though he were looking for something. An answer to a question. There was no encouragement in their depths, but he didn't step away from her. He didn't pull back.
"Alessandro?" She couldn't call him Alex. Not when he was looking at her so… what? Nothing, there was no expression on his face at all. It wasn't cold. It was blank. Beneath her hand, his shoulder felt hunched and tight, his arms held stiff at his side.
Isabella's hesitation lasted only a few quiet moments. Tonight, she didn't want to wait for permission. Alessandro was here. That had to mean something. He feels guilty, whispered that annoying little voice. She almost listened to it but… no. That wasn't guilt in his eyes.
It was desire. But then why was he holding back? Isabella narrowed her eyes at him, studying him the way he was examining her. She refused to be a timid little mouse waiting for his attention. She wouldn't wait for permission to feel. Alessandro had decided everything else about this week, but that was the one thing he couldn't control. Her feelings were her own.
The only warning she gave him was a flicker of mischief deep in her eyes and a slight smile that played around her lips. He frowned, confusion crinkling his eyes. She took no notice. She wrapped her arm around his neck, her leg around his waist, and lifted herself up in one easy jump. Alessandro growled and took a step back, but he was forced to wrap his arms around her. Isabella grinned up at him and squeezed her legs tight together. His answering moan was the most delicious sound she'd heard in days. Three days to be precise.
Alessandro's eyes closed, but his lips found her neck, and she sighed and arched into him. He was hard, everywhere. "Isabella," her name growled on an exhale as his mouth found hers.
"No talking," she whispered, frantic now. Desperate. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. Nothing tender. His hands on her bottom squeezed her closer, his hips ground into hers. "Now, Alessandro." Isabella felt him move, start to leave the room. "No. Here. Like this." He stilled, and she ground her hips against him, tearing another groan from between his lips. "Now. I want this."
Isabella felt his hesitation, but he backed her up against the wall before she could say anything more. His teeth nipped at her neck while he undid his trousers. She heard the ripping of foil and knew he was sheathing himself. But then his skilled fingers were pushing her shorts to one side and slipping deep inside her, finding her moist center, plunging in and out in a steady rhythm.
Her head fell back, her eyes closed. "Alessandro," it was an imprecation that he understood. Holding her shorts to the side, he plunged inside her with one smooth stroke. Deep inside her, he stilled. He found her mouth and kissed her so slowly she ached, cried out. His fingers dug into her hips as he held her steady, as he began to move, pounding into her.
This was nothing like the other night. He wasn't gentle. He was desperate and frenzied, and she loved it. She soared, and her climax when it came shook her to the core. A roar tore from his lips as he came, and he pressed his mouth to hers, absorbing her own screams.
He was still kissing her as they floated back down. Both of them were breathing heavily, their hearts pounding against each other as they remained pressed to the wall. She felt too weak to hold on. Her arms slipped from his shoulders, but just as she would have fallen in a heap to the floor, his arms tightened. He pressed a kiss to her temple and carried her upstairs.
The wild hunger that had consumed him for three days was gone. Leaving in its placing an aching tenderness for this woman in his arms. Her response to him had worked past all his defenses. Alessandro had returned from Rome wary, unsure what to expect. Was she hurt that he'd left? Would she be disappointed to see him back?
What Alessandro had not expected was that her hunger would match his own. Or that she would show it to him. But why not? This was Isabella. She didn't play games. If she felt something, she showed it. Isabella hid nothing. He had been left defenseless in the face of that attack. And now? Now she was trembling and vulnerable. She was holding him as if she never wanted to let him go. Dio, what had he done?
Alessandro set her down in the bathroom. He placed his hands on her hips while she found her balance. He wanted to pull her close and wrap his arms around her, but he couldn't. He couldn't be the man she needed him to be. She turned those large green eyes up to him, and he was lost. Everything she felt flickered through those green depths… love, fear, panic, and then as they continued to look at each other… desire, awakening once more.
Alessandro took hold of the bottom of her top and pushed it slowly up over her breasts. She smiled, raised her arms for him as he lifted it up and over her head. He dropped it on the floor and looked at her for a moment. He had to. Three days had been too long without seeing her. Next, he slid her shorts down over her hips, his fingers brushing her silky thighs as he did.
No words.
Isabella smiled again, shyly this time, but she reached forward and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. He watched her, his whole body sensitive to her touch. Her hands shook as they pushed the shirt off his shoulders. A little clumsy, a little awkward, but even that made him shudder. She didn't stop there. She ran her fingers down his chest, and the feel of her soft fingers so light and gentle sent shivers up his spine. He exhaled a shaky breath as he became aware of how exposed he was. He needed her, and she could see it. He saw her realize this and watched the growing confidence in her eyes.
Alessandro waited for his resentment to kick in. The anger that would shore up his defenses and keep him safe. Nothing. No anger. No resentment. Instead, he found himself reveling in Isabella's newfound confidence. He wanted to encourage it, encourage her. Alessandro wanted her to know how beautiful she was, how desirable.
Isabella's hands were on his trousers, her eyes looking up at him for reassurance as she gnawed on her bottom lip. That vulnerable look in her eyes catching at his heart. She slid the zipper down, and his breath hitched. This slow sweet agony was new to him. He was always the one in control.
His trousers fell to the floor and then his boxers. He stepped out of them, but he never took his eyes off Isabella. He watched as her eyes dropped lower, and he could feel himself growing harder while she looked at him. Already. So soon.
"Touch me, Isabella." He heard the agonized appeal in his voice. He couldn't even despise himself for it when he saw her sudden shyness, her uncertainty. Alessandro reached for her hand and placed it on his penis. Her eyes filled with heated desire as her fingers closed around him. He groaned, threw his head back, and gave himself up to the feel of her hand wrapped around him, stroking him firmly.
He was aching, throbbing, breathing hard. He had to stop this now. He grabbed Isabella's wrist, forced her to stop, kissed her hard when he saw her confusion. She released him and wrapped her arms around his neck instead. Alessandro lifted her then and moved them both into the shower, turning it on blindly, unwilling to break that kiss. They were both panting again, desperate and aching, but he wanted to go slower this time. He pulled back and looked down at her. For a moment, that was all he wanted to do. That was enough, to look. Then he was reaching for the soap.
"Turn around." And there was that innocent, trusting smile again before she turned, and his heart flipped in his chest. He couldn't breathe. "Isabella." He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to her glistening shoulder. How was he going to give her up? The same way you give up all the women in your life.
She's not like any of the others.
No, but that doesn't change a thing. One week.
Alessandro lathered up the soap and started to wash Isabella's back. The feel of her silky skin benea
th his hands drove all other thoughts from his mind. The soap filled the steaming shower with a vanilla scent, clouding his senses further. His hands drifted over her hips, around to her stomach, up to her breasts. He pulled her roughly against him. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tight as his other hand slid down between her thighs. Her excited gasp only made him harder. Dio, she was so wet. He couldn't wait any longer.
This is what she did to him. Reaching out of the shower, he found his discarded trousers and the condom in his wallet. When he turned back to Isabella, she had her hands pressed to the shower wall, her head thrown back, water running down her face. He growled as he reached for her. Her body was slick with soap, glistening. She arched her back, her nipples taut, her bottom so pert and tight as it rubbed against him.
"Isabella, you are so beautiful."
She turned around so quickly she caught him off guard, fire spitting from her eyes as she glared at him. He took a step back… into the shower wall, but she didn't seem to notice. He rubbed his elbow and winced.
"Don't tell me that. I don't need you to say things like that to me."
Before he could even think about an answer, she pressed her body into his and reached for his mouth hungrily. The kiss lasted only a few seconds. It could have gone on. He could have let it… if it had been anyone else. But he couldn't. That Isabella couldn't believe she was beautiful made him angry. That she insisted on reducing their time together to nothing more than sex made him furious. He spun her around roughly and pinned her up against the wall. He was breathing hard against her neck as he held her there. He parted her thighs with his hand. When she moaned, he slipped his fingers inside her.
"Don't be nice. Is that it, Isabella?" He growled in her ear as his fingers continued to caress her.
"I don't want nice."
Alessandro heard the moan in her voice as her head fell back against his chest. She gasped and then cried out as he withdrew his fingers and plunged deep inside her, pulling her tight against his chest. He nipped her neck with his teeth, and her head fell back against his shoulder.