‘Yes, I want you,’ she whispered fiercely.
He groaned at her whispered admittance and moved fully between her thighs and took hold of himself, guiding himself to the place he’d just been touching her.
His erection pressed into her opening and then there was a sharp lance of pain as he drove inside her with one long, determined thrust.
Elena sucked in air and froze, so stunned at the sudden feel of him inside—fully, massively inside her—that she couldn’t move.
Gabriele stopped moving too.
‘Elena?’
His eyes, which hadn’t left her face, now reflected stark shock.
After long moments passed in which nothing more was said but understanding flowed, he lowered himself to rest his weight on her, not enough to crush but enough that his entire upper body rested upon her, the darks hairs on his chest bristling against her breasts, his groin now resting against hers.
And, God, he was still inside her.
He was a part of her.
‘Put your arms around me,’ he said quietly.
The shock had gone from his eyes. Now there was something else there, a tenderness that made her lungs close even tighter.
Her fingers uncurled from the pillow of their own accord. At that moment Elena wasn’t capable of rational thought. She wrapped her arms lightly around his back.
His skin felt so smooth.
‘Breathe,’ he whispered. He placed his forearms either side of her head and captured locks of her hair in his fingers. ‘Breathe.’
She tried, drawing in choked air.
‘Breathe.’
He moved inside her gently, his eyes holding hers, his hands stroking her hair.
‘Move with me,’ he said in that same low tone.
‘I...’ She didn’t know how.
He must have understood.
A thumb brushed along her cheekbone. ‘Do whatever feels good for you.’
He moved again, pulling out a little then pushing slowly back. ‘Move with me,’ he urged.
She raised her thighs a little and immediately the friction deepened.
His jaw clenched but his eyes were open, feeding her messages that there was nothing to be afraid of. Slowly, very slowly, he increased the movements.
From all Elena knew of sex, it was something to be hurried, a carnal event for the man to take his pleasure and for the woman to endure.
She had never known it could be tender.
She had never imagined Gabriele could be tender. But he was. His only concern was her pleasure and making this as good for her as it could be.
A swell of something she couldn’t discern grew inside her chest and her fingers dug into the planes on his back, feeling the muscles beneath the smoothness.
Instinct took over and she found herself moving with him, hesitantly at first but with slow-increasing confidence, meeting his still-restrained thrusts as her body adjusted to these wonderful sensations spreading through her.
And they were wonderful. Like nothing she could ever have imagined.
The pulsations that had been building in her core grew stronger. Gabriele rocked gently in her, letting her have control of the tempo and strength. She raised her thighs a touch more, deepening the effect, and pressed herself tightly against him, locking her cheek next to his, feeling his hot breath on her skin.
And then she was crying out as the swelling exploded within her, rippling through every part of her with a strength that made her cling even tighter to him for support.
Through the heavenly yet shocking delight of what she was experiencing, Elena heard Gabriele’s breathing deepen.
He whispered endearments, coaxing her to ride the waves until he let out a ragged groan and gave one last, lengthy thrust.
And then he collapsed on her.
With his face in her neck, his hands still running through her hair and the thunder of his heart echoing through her skin, Elena gazed at the ceiling, too shocked at what she had just experienced to think coherently or attempt to wriggle out from beneath him. The weight of his body on her and the heat of his breath in her neck...
Had that really just happened?
A strange lethargy crept through her sensitised body and a lump formed in her throat.
A lifetime of listening to her brothers and their friends discuss women with what amounted to contempt, and witnessing them treat the women in their lives as mere possessions, had convinced her that sex was a tool for men to assert their dominance. She’d assumed the phrase making love was from the realm of movies.
She hadn’t been prepared for Gabriele to be so tender and gentle with her.
Even now that it was over, she would have assumed he would roll off her, let out a snore and, job done, go to sleep. She hadn’t thought he would continue to caress her as if she mattered in any way; and this man was her enemy.
She hadn’t expected to feel so close to him.
She could only imagine how he would make love if he was actually in love with the woman in his bed.
With that bitter thought, she finally psyched herself to move out from beneath him. He obliged, shifting his weight off her so she could roll onto her side and turn her back to him.
She could feel his eyes upon her, and waited for the dissection of what had just occurred to begin.
Instead, he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back so she was spooned against him.
Inexplicably, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away.
This was what she’d signed up for, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time.
Just because having sex with Gabriele had been the most incredible, fulfilling experience of her life didn’t change any of the facts about him or them.
Yet, with his warmth permeating through her and his strength cocooning her, she drifted into sleep with a contentment in her limbs she had never known she could have.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GABRIELE PAUSED IN the doorway of the bedroom and peered at Elena’s sleeping form.
The sheets looked as if she’d been wrestling them, a leg hooked around them, her arms thrown outwards.
He’d slept fitfully, waking half a dozen times, not touching her, just gazing at her with a chest so tight breathing was painful.
Staring at her now, he still couldn’t comprehend that she’d been a virgin.
A virgin.
She shuffled and then raised her head. Opening a bleary eye, she stared at him for a moment before saying, ‘What time is it?’
He looked at his watch. ‘Six o’clock.’
Sitting up, she brushed her hair away from her face and hugged the sheets to her. ‘Have you been working out?’
He looked down at his shorts and T-shirt and the training shoes still on his feet. ‘What gave it away?’
The glimmer of a smile played on her lips.
‘I went for a jog around Central Park.’ Always up before the birds, that morning he’d risen even earlier, which was hardly surprising as they’d both fallen asleep in the early evening. ‘Are you hungry?’
She rested her chin on her knees and nodded, almost shyly.
‘I’m going to take a quick shower then I’ll get some breakfast for us. Any requests?’
She shook her head.
She was so clearly ill at ease that for a moment his chest constricted. He took a deep breath. ‘Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when breakfast’s ready.’
Not answering, she lay back down and curled the sheets around her.
Gabriele showered and dressed quickly, then went back out into the early Manhattan sun.
This was his favourite time of the day. In prison, early mornings had been filled with noise and activity. Here, in the open city streets, he could be on a
different planet. There were people around—of course there were, this city never slept—but there was a stillness about them, as if they were robots charging themselves to alertness.
The welcoming scent of fresh donuts greeted him in his favourite deli one block from his apartment.
While he waited for his order to be done, he found his mind replaying everything from last night with Elena, just as it had while he’d jogged. Normally jogging cleared his mind of everything, allowing him to start the day afresh. Today...
One thing he had determined during his run was that he couldn’t allow Elena’s virginity to cloud his opinions or the route they were taking. She was still Ignazio’s daughter. She was still up to her neck in his criminal doings and had played a hand in setting his father up. It was inconceivable that she wasn’t involved.
Just because she’d been an innocent in one respect did not mean she was innocent in any other.
He would not allow himself to be derailed from his ultimate mission: the exoneration of his and his father’s good names.
With that thought fortifying him, Gabriele took their breakfast and strolled back to the apartment block. While he waitedfor the elevator, his phone buzzed. It was a number he didn’t recognise.
Putting the bag of food and coffee on a marble table in the foyer, he hit the reply button and pressed the phone to his ear. ‘Ciao?’
‘Mantegna?’
The voice on the other end was music to his ears. It was the voice he’d been waiting for.
‘Ricci?’
‘Is it true? Have you married my daughter?’
‘Elena and I married yesterday afternoon—’
‘You son-of-a—’
‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,’ Gabriele continued cordially as if Ignazio hadn’t interrupted him, raising his hand to wave at the familiar face of a neighbour. ‘We’ll be having a party in a couple of weeks to celebrate. Your invitation will be posted today.’
The invitations would have the words ‘Mr and Mrs Mantegna’ emblazoned in large italics on them.
‘What the hell are you playing at messing around with her?’ Ignazio demanded, his tone full of menace.
Good. This was the reaction he wanted. Ignazio was wounded. He was also under threat. People under threat were more likely to make mistakes.
If Ignazio had any idea Gabriele was attempting to lure one of his most trusted aides away too...
‘Elena and I are not playing at anything.’ He didn’t care if Ignazio believed in his love. All Gabriele cared was that Ignazio believed Elena had fallen in love with him. ‘Elena loves me.’
He could hear heavy breathing down the phone, the sound of a man who’d smoked far too many cigarettes in his life fighting to control his temper.
‘If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.’
‘Why would I hurt her?’ He thought back to the shyness in her eyes when she’d awoken a short while ago. He remembered the breathlessness of her cries as she’d come in his arms.
‘I mean it.’ The voice was threatening but Gabriele detected an underlying tinge of panic.
Oh, this was very good.
Was this concern for his daughter or concern that Gabriele’s access in the family had made Ignazio vulnerable?
He put him on the spot. ‘Why do you think I would hurt your daughter?’
Ignazio didn’t answer for the longest time. Gabriele could almost hear his brain ticking as he thought up an answer that wouldn’t incriminate him.
When he finally answered, all he said was, ‘Elena is nothing to do with anything.’
‘Elena is my wife. She belongs to me now and I don’t hurt what’s mine.’
Terminating the call, he switched the phone to silent and stuck it in his back pocket.
Grabbing their breakfast, he got into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, waiting for some form of euphoria to strike.
Ignazio was wounded. In the grand scheme of things it was a minor victory but one he had fully expected to relish.
Instead, he felt flat.
Back in the apartment he found Elena in the kitchen emptying the trays of food from the day before into a bin. As she leaned forward, her pert bottom, clad in black cropped trousers, curved for his eyes to appreciate.
After four years of celibacy he wasn’t surprised to find that one bout of lovemaking had reignited his libido. What he hadn’t expected was the strength.
She cast him a quick glance before tipping the remnants of the last tray in the bin. With a round-necked black and white striped fitted T-shirt, her damp hair loose around her shoulders and her face free from make-up, she looked as innocent as he knew she’d physically been only the day before.
‘I’ve brought bagels and coffee.’ He placed his wares on the kitchen table.
‘Go ahead. I’ll just be a minute.’ She didn’t look at him, intent on her clean-up mission. She moved to the sink, which she’d filled with soapy water, and dunked their champagne flutes into it.
‘There’s no need to do that. There’s a cleaner coming in later.’
‘It’s therapeutic.’
‘Elena, sit down and eat.’
She stood rigid at the sink then turned to join him, taking a seat at the far end of the table from him.
He watched as she ate, chewing slowly with each mouthful as if it were a chore that needed to be fulfilled.
‘Did it not cross your mind to tell me you were a virgin?’ he asked casually.
Her hand hovered in mid-air before she put her half-eaten bagel down. ‘No.’
‘You didn’t think I had a right to know?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
She fixed cold eyes on him, so different from the shock that had reflected from them when he’d thrust into her that first time and so different from the wonder that had resonated when she’d come in his arms.
To discover the woman in his arms had been a virgin, that it was her first time...
The desire that had brimmed inside him, on the brink of boiling point as he’d plunged inside her, had notched down to an immediate simmer. The significance of what he had just done had hit him with full force.
From feeling as if he would explode, his only concern had been that she was okay, to soothe her, to wipe away the discomfort he knew that first thrust had given her.
Her response had been mind-blowing. Slowly, shyly, she had come alive in his arms.
‘Did I hurt you?’
She shrugged. ‘A little.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Sorrier than he could ever express.
Another shrug.
‘If you’d told me, I would have been gentle.’
Something softened in her gaze before she looked away and said quietly, ‘You were gentle.’
‘I would have been gentle from the outset.’ He took a drink from his coffee. ‘I’m not going to lie to you, you are a very sexy woman. I haven’t been with anyone in four years...’
Her eyes snapped back to him.
‘...and I was like an over-eager panther. You should have told me.’ He shook his head, still incredulous. ‘Why?’
The softening of her features hardened again. ‘Why was I a virgin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Honestly? If I’d had my way I would have remained a virgin until I died. Men are pigs and I knew I would never meet one who didn’t conform to that opinion.’
He winced, wishing he could stick up for his gender but knowing he was in no position to offer a defence, not after he’d effectively blackmailed her into giving her virginity to him.
She drained her coffee and pushed her plate to one side. ‘For all that, I do need to thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For showing me that just be
cause a man is a pig out of the bedroom doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of tenderness in it. I should have told you but I didn’t think it would make any difference to how you treated me. I can see now that I was wrong.’ The faintest trace of colour covered her cheeks but she carried on. ‘It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.’
Something swelled inside him that, for once, wasn’t in his groin. ‘Are you paying me a compliment?’
A smile ghosted her lips. ‘Let’s not get carried away. You can call it faint praise.’
‘Then this afternoon it will be my mission to move on from faint praise to full-blown applause.’ He didn’t add that right at that moment he would happily pull her onto his lap and take her again.
Elena being a virgin put a whole new level of complexity on their physical relationship and he had to respect that sex and everything that went with it was new for her.
A thrill raced through him to think that he would be the one to teach her the art of pleasure.
‘This afternoon?’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Won’t we be travelling?’
‘Our flight is scheduled for two p.m. We’ll have ten whole hours to keep ourselves amused before we land in Florence.’
‘I’ll be sure to bring a good book with me, then,’ she said with a husky catch in her voice.
The temptation to just pull her into his arms and take her grew stronger but he tempered it.
‘We’ll be leaving in an hour,’ he said. ‘Will you be ready?’
She nodded.
‘Good. We’re making a detour on the way to the airport.’
‘Oh?’
‘We’re going to visit my mother. It’s time for her to meet her new daughter-in-law.’
* * *
Elena gazed at the sprawling white ranch-type house on the fringe of New Jersey’s Somerset County.
‘What a pretty house,’ she said, stepping out of the car and shielding her eyes from the brilliance of the sun. After the bustle of Manhattan the silence was stark. ‘Did you live here?’
He nodded. ‘My parents bought it when we first emigrated.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Ten.’
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