"Really?" Nicoletta laughed softly, lifting her hips to push back against him, enjoying the feel of him so thick and hard and wanting her. "What are you thinking about right now?"
He turned her over, his gaze hot and hungry. "I am thinking that claiming my rights from your villaggio was the best decision I ever made." He bent his head to her breasts, his hands moving possessively over her. His tongue bathed the faint bruise there, gentle and soothing.
"I am thinking you are right, Giovanni." Nicoletta closed her eyes, arching into the heat of his mouth, burying her fists in his hair to hold him to her. "I want you. I have waited all day for you."
He lifted his head to study her face. "All day?"
She nodded mutely, watching him. Beneath him, her legs moved restlessly, her hips pushing at him. "All day I thought only of you."
"You make me happy as no other could, saying that simple thing to your husband," he said softly, slipping back into the water and pulling her to the edge of the pool so that he could put her long legs on his shoulders. "You take away my every burden, Nicoletta." His hands stroked her thighs and pulled her even closer.
Nicoletta's entire body clenched in anticipation. His breath was warm on her skin. His hair brushed like wet silk on her inner thighs. He kissed her wet, tight curls, his tongue stroking a lingering caress to taste her before he inserted two fingers into her tight core, pushing deeply just for the pleasure of her response.
"Yes, bambina, that is what I need. You, hot and ready for me." He pulled her to his seeking mouth, delivering a wild assault of sheer pleasure.
Nicoletta cried out, throwing her head back, her hips bucking out of control, so ready for him she was nearly in tears. Her fingers clutched his hair, holding him to her even as the intensity mounted to heights she wasn't certain she would survive. She had been afraid she would never be able to bed Giovanni again without the distaste of Vincente's perversions in her mind, but she should have trusted her husband more. He made certain he drove out every demon, every fear, until only he remained, his hands and his mouth and his soft, whispered endearments.
"Ti amo," she said softly, meaning it. The words were embedded in her soul for all time.
He sank beneath the warm waters, then resurfaced, droplets pouring off him, his black hair streaming, the water running from his skin as he levered himself easily from the pool. His eyes were fiercely possessive, hot with desire. He caught her up in his arms and carried her straight to their enormous bed.
"We are very wet," she reminded him, laughing softly at his newly impulsive, playful ways. "We will soak the coverlets."
Giovanni followed her right down to those coverlets. "We have many beds and many coverlets in the palazzo," he reminded her, pressing against her aggressively. "In any case, it will not matter. We will need no blankets, as I intend to keep you busy—perhaps making a bambino—all night." He thrust into her, watching her as he welded them together. "Quando sei bella. Ti amo."
He breathed the words—How beautiful you are. I love you.—and he meant them. He loved her with every breath in his body, with his entire heart and soul. She knew the way to break the curse, and he was man enough and loved her enough that he would follow her advice and trust it would be so. He wanted her soul soaring with his, and he wanted to feel her belly swollen with his child. A child who would know love and laughter, not endless losses, wonderment, not evil whispers. The Scarletti curse, he vowed, would live no more.
Nicoletta watched her husband's face, watched the shadows disappear, watched joy replace fatigue. She moved with him, arching into him, so they came together in fiery friction, so that she could feel him thicken even more deeply within her. She could hear his breath come in gasps before he spilled his seed within her. She loved the way he loved her.
And he was right: She never noticed the water soaking the coverlet, and the don and his bride did, that night, make their first happy, healthy bambino.
Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse Page 37