A Deal to Carry the Italian's Heir/Christmas Contract for His Cinderella

by Tara Pammi

  So many years of knowing him, learning him and wanting him...a lifetime of watching him like this, and she’d never have enough.

  From the thick slashes of his brows to the deep-set eyes with long lashes he used to hide his expression, the deep scar on the left cheek and the thin-lipped mouth, combined with that weather-beaten quality of his skin—the gardens outside were clearly a labor of love—he was not classically handsome. But the ruggedly hewn features, that sense of calm confidence in his broad frame, the power of aura that radiated from him...the appeal he held had intensified as he grew older.

  Where there had been a cocky, the-world-is-mine kind of arrogance to him when she’d met him all those years ago, the fierce discipline with which he ruled those around him, and himself, had entrenched into his features.

  Her mum’s marriage to Mario had changed the course of Neha’s life, too. Carved away her choices bit by bit until this version of her remained. How much longer?

  “I’ve lived almost fifteen years of my life walking the tightrope of wanting something and being afraid of the blowback to her. Afraid that Mario would use my actions to drive a wedge between us. I turned myself into something even I don’t recognize.”

  Leo covered the distance between them, shaking his head. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat as he took her hands in his and squeezed tight. She’d been so lonely. But it was Leo’s touch that jump-started something that had been dormant inside her for too long. “Yeah?”

  “You took the first step toward building the life you want despite knowing what the consequences will be. Not only did you approach me with your...request but you knew what to say to convince me. You didn’t let your mum frighten you off today.” His gaze searched hers, as if he was seeing her anew. “Despite the emotional toll it’s taking on you.” A lone tear tracked down her cheek, the tenderness in his words a balm to her soul, the sheer conviction in his voice a steely source of strength.

  He pulled her up to face him, and Neha could have drowned in the emotions swirling in those blue depths. His grip on her hands was the only anchor in a collapsing world, the warmth radiating from his solid body the only reality she could hold on to while she built a new foundation for her future.

  With infinite gentleness, he flicked away the tear. “Do you remember the heated arguments we used to have about my opinions of women?”

  She nodded, wondering where he was going. “You were a budding sexist.”

  He laughed and she watched that stark, serious face bloom into gorgeousness that shook her knees. “You’ve been the biggest, most positive influence in my life, Neha. Like a river carving away at the bedrock of a mountain, you cleared so much anger I’d harbored toward women, just because of what one woman did to me when I was a child. You helped me realize how irrational and hateful I could become if I didn’t let go of it. Watching you become this woman of grace and courage and beauty...helped me in ways you can’t imagine.

  “So don’t you dare say you’re a coward because that’s my friend you’re trashing.”

  A sob rising through her, Neha threw herself at him. And luckily for both of them, the giant of a man that he was, he caught her. The strength of his arms rocked her as she tried to curb the emotional storm unleashing within her.

  She kissed his cheek and whispered a hundred thank-yous. The scent and warmth of him was a cocktail she felt drunk on, the muscled wall of his body a heavenly slide against her own. Her arms vined around his neck, she pulled back and looked at him.

  Nostrils flaring, eyes shining with desire, he radiated the same kind of energy she could feel thrumming through her veins.

  A ribbon of awareness whipped around them as her gaze fell to the languid curve of his mouth. It was a matter of seconds, maybe, but it felt like an eternity as Neha pulled herself closer. Their breaths were a harsh symphony around them. She moved her hands down to his chest, scrunching her fingers in his shirt.

  She’d spent an eternity wanting this man...wanting one kiss, wanting to be the woman he needed. And now she couldn’t turn away even if her very next breath depended on it.

  After years of living in a prison she’d made for herself, Neha stepped into her own life. And took Leonardo’s mouth in a kiss she’d needed for more than a decade.

  Lips that were both firm and incredibly soft met hers. That first contact spread warmth through her, unraveling in spools through her limbs, leaving her trembling, stomach tightening with anticipation, standing on the cliff of something new and painfully exciting. He was unnaturally still, not rejecting her, but being a passive participant that was nothing like the man.

  She flicked her tongue over his lips next, tracing the defined curve while the rhythmic in and out of his breath coated her skin in soft strokes. A continuous thrill thrummed through her veins as she fit her mouth this way and that, teasing and tasting, tugging on that lower lip with her teeth, licking her way into his mouth and touching the tip of his tongue with hers before she retreated and started all over again. And again gorging herself on him. Breathing him in.

  And still, he held himself rigid, his hands not holding her but not pushing her away, either.

  He tasted of whiskey and maleness and Neha reveled in the high of having him like this—hers to pet and play with, hers to ignite. Hers to rumple. When she dug her teeth hard into his lower lip, his chest rumbled. Her own need deepened at the utterly masculine sound drawn out of him despite his control.

  Dampness bloomed at her sex, every part of her aching to be touched and stroked and possessed. She ran her palms down to his neck and pulled at the lapels of his shirt until the buttons popped and she could sink her hands inside.

  Her groan was joined by his, creating a symphony of need and desire.

  Defined pectorals and warm skin, the sensation of the springy hair under her palms, the tight points of his nipples—his chest was an endless delight to her questing hands. She touched him all over, loving the hard clench of his muscles, the feral sound that fell from his lips. This time, when she explored the moist cavern of his mouth, she tangled her tongue with his, sucking it into her mouth. Playing hide-and-seek with it. Digging her teeth into the soft inside of his lower lip.

  Her breasts ached to be touched. Her hands roamed restlessly over his hard body, across his broad chest, back onto his rock-hard abdomen, her fingers digging into the waistband of his trousers. She dragged her mouth from his, trailing kisses over his rough jaw, down to his throat, and pressed her tongue against the hollow there.

  Salt and sweat and incredibly male—he was heaven on her tongue.

  The growl that fell from his mouth reverberated up from his broad chest, shaking her with its ferocity. Like an earthquake rearranging everything beneath the ground on which she stood. His powerful body shuddered around her, and then he was jerking her up to him, his fingers sinking deep into her hair, and his mouth crushed hers.

  The kiss was raw, fiercely honest, and it whipped her into a frenzy of sensations. Not a single one of her dreams had done justice to what the man could do with his mouth.

  There was no exploration in how he took her mouth, no tentative melding to see if it could be anything more than a pleasant experience. No gentle welcome or a soft landing. No initial awkwardness that came with two people kissing for the first time, no searching for rhythm, no place for anything that was remotely rational.

  The savagery of the need between them...this need that had been building for a long time, it tossed him around just as it did her.

  He devoured her lips with his. Hunger and heat and hardness... Neha drowned in a surfeit of sensations he seemed to evoke so easily with a masterful glide of his lips, or a sensuous nip with his teeth or a rough, needy dance with his tongue. Everything she’d done to him, he paid back a hundred times over—sometimes smooth and slow, sometimes hard and demanding. Leaving her mouth sting
ing, her nipples taut and needy, her body scandalously ready for his possession.

  A needy groan fell from her mouth when his arousal—thick and hard—rubbed against her belly, sending sparks of renewed need. She stole her hands down his body, desperate to trace that, desperate to feel what she’d done to him. He grunted in denial, his fingers arresting her questing hand. “Basta, cara!”

  Neha felt his soft whisper like a cold lash against her skin. Her body cooling off in a matter of seconds into a frigid cold despite the warm air currents, she stepped away from him. “I’m sorry.” She ran a hand through her hair and bit her lip. Which was swollen and tender. The memory of digging her teeth into his lower lip and his answering growl...it was a sound she’d never forget. “I’m... I’ve no excuse for attacking you—”

  “You didn’t attack me!”

  She looked at him and away, but not before noticing how devastatingly handsome he looked with his hair all rumpled up, by her fingers. The flaps of his shirt open and baring that magnificent chest covered in hair. “I’ve been so up and down tonight, and I—”

  “Look at me, cara! I knew what you were doing, and I was a more than willing participant.”

  “Still, I’m sorry, Leo. I’m—”

  “Stop saying sorry. All you did was make the first move. One nanosecond later, I would have been all over you. Cristo, do you have any idea what watching you in that wet shirt sticking to your body is doing to me.” He thrust his hand roughly through his hair, his breaths harsh. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you? Dio mio, it seems wanting you has become a part of me. If not for the fact that you’re very important to me and my lovers don’t last long, I wouldn’t have mustered the sense to put a stop to it, cara.”

  The raw emotion in his voice gave her the courage to stop lying. To herself and to him. To face what had been staring at her from the moment she’d gone into his office with her bold request.

  Her gaze fell to the swollen curve of his lower lip and something fractured within her at the blazing passion of their kiss. The rightness of this moment between them. The reality of the future she wanted to build with him. Something that took wings and wanted to fly. “I want to do this the real way,” she blurted out, one of the biggest decisions of her life falling into place as easily as her next breath.

  So easy, yes, but so, so right, too.

  “What?” Leonardo looked at her with that penetrating gaze. Giving nothing away. Already retreating from that fracture in his impenetrable self-control.

  Wanting you feels like...it has become a part of me.

  A new sense of freedom ran through her limbs. There was a high in standing here, staring at him unabashedly, and glorying in it. In acknowledging her desire for this man.

  His face one of those bulletproof masks that no one could break through. And that mask was doubled down right now. She was finally beginning to understand the real man beneath the larger than life figure she’d built in her head.

  He’d been attentive and filled with concern from the moment she’d walked into his office. Playing the role of a man pursuing her perfectly for the public. At her back the whole evening tonight because he’d decided she needed protection from Mario. And she had no doubt he’d do the same for the rest of their lives with their child and, by extension, her.

  Whatever she needed—physically, emotionally, mentally—he’d be there.

  But to give her a part of him—to let down that guard that surrounded his mind and his heart, to show a little vulnerability—was unacceptable. To need her even in a small way was unacceptable. It would always remain a weakness.

  That admission that he’d wanted her for a long time—had it been too much already?

  She wondered if she’d have understood him so perfectly if she hadn’t built that same armor around herself for so long that she’d ended up choking herself within it.

  The intense loneliness, the craving for connection, the long, silent nights blending into farcically busy days, always alone, even in crowds... She was finally breaking through those chains she’d bound herself with and she wasn’t going back into them willingly.

  She wanted to live her life. She wanted this man. She wanted to create a child with him doing what would bring them both incredible pleasure.

  There wasn’t a moment’s doubt in her mind that what she was starting tonight had a very definite endpoint. Having that endpoint made it easy to push away her fears. Leonardo and she were rational adults with very clear boundaries.

  “I want to conceive our child the traditional way.”

  When he stared back in mute silence, she huffed, “You. Me. Sex, Leonardo.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  LEO JUST STARED, his mind filled up with images of their naked limbs tangled, slick and moving together. The woman he’d wanted forever, finally within his reach.

  He shook his head, as if he could simply dislodge those images. “You’ve had a very emotional evening.” He ran the pad of his forefinger gently over the dark shadows under her eyes. Amazed by her resilience and the strength of her resolve. Aroused by the boldness of her gaze. “On top of a manic two weeks. On top of a stressful last decade.”

  “Leo—”

  “Tomorrow, you’ll regret it. Tomorrow, you’ll panic that we’ve blurred the lines. I will not take advantage of a weak moment.”

  She pulled back, a flare of anger in her eyes. “Ah...this is you being all honorable and letting me down gently, isn’t it? I’m a big girl, Leo. I can take it.”

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Just say you’re not interested in sleeping with me. Especially after learning that I’m not as rational and robotically perfect as you thought I was,” she said, a flash of self-doubt in her eyes.

  “Maledizione! You think I could want you less because you stuck to your guns in the face of emotional blackmail from the one person who should be protecting you from that bully Mario? You think years of want goes away in a single evening? If only it were that easy, bella.”

  Silence descended on them, fraught with the energy of an attraction that was all out in the open now. She licked her lips, the pulse at her neck drumming away madly. “I believe you. Now will you do me the courtesy of taking me at my word?”

  “I always have.”

  “Good. I feel as if the fog I’ve been living in is finally lifting. I’m sick of living afraid, always calculating risks, always worried about the outcome. I hate that I let Mario win all these years. I hate that I’ve used him as an excuse to give up so many things that give me joy, pleasure, excitement.”

  But no more.

  “I want to leave all thoughts of ovulation kits and basal temperatures and IVF out of this. I want to conceive our child doing what I desperately want.”

  Her husky demand carried over the damp air currents in the greenhouse, the naked want in it echoing around them. And Leo knew his reasoning capability was crumbling to dust. That in the face of her bold demand and perfectly outlined reasons and the heat of their kiss singing through his veins, he was going to give in. Still, he looked for reasons to make sure this was exactly what she wanted.

  “You can’t do this because you’re angry with him.”

  “Let me come closer.”

  Neha kicked at his feet and he spread his legs apart in response and she moved into the gap, closer and closer until her thighs grazed his hard thighs and the tip of her breasts were a mere inch away from his chest and the deepening scent of his skin filled her nostrils.

  She moved her fingers from his chest—his racing heart gave her courage—up the corded column of his neck, to the raw stubble already coming in at his jaw, winding around his neck until her nails were sinking into the rough hair at his neck, scraping at his scalp. Digging for purchase. Determined to stay.

  She bent closer, her mouth inching toward his. His hands stayed on her shoulders,
pressing lightly, stopping her from covering that last bit of distance between them.

  “If you think this is some twisted way to get back at Mario or a petty rebellion against my mum, you’ve got it all wrong.” She shook his hands off her shoulders and pressed up snug against him. Heat and hardness, he was a perfect fit for her, and she shuddered at how good it felt. “I had a huge crush on that hot twenty-year-old who walked into my life that day. In a parallel universe, I grabbed that boy, and planted a kiss on him that sent him to his knees. If I could tell my younger self one thing, it would be to go after that guy.”

  She wiggled against him, trying to get closer, and he cursed softly. She felt his arousal against her belly, incontrovertible proof that sent shivers up and down her spine. Her lips close to his, she licked at the corner of his mouth. “This is all about me and you, Leo. I want this for no other reason than I need to desperately know how it will feel to have you inside me.”

  “Let me look at you, then, cara mia.”

  Neha pulled back from him, her heart still racing. Her body already mourning the loss of warmth from his. “What?”

  “That damp T-shirt has been tormenting me ever since I walked in.” Wicked light filled his eyes—a flash of that Leo he must have been before he’d had to bear the burden of the Brunetti legacy. “I should very much like to see you properly.”

  “You mean...here?”

  “Sì.” Unholy amusement curved his mouth. “You said tonight. I say here. Now.” He looked around the greenhouse, that hardness that was an intrinsic part of him etched on his features again. Lost to her in those few seconds. “This ghastly place needs new memories, anyway. I can think of nothing better than walking in here a few years from now and picturing you, all damp and naked and waiting for me.”

  That glitter in his eyes at his imagined image of her was incredibly sexy. “But—”