“Day follows night. And where they meet, there is a blending of opposites. Dawn and dusk.”
“But that’s magical!” She challenged with barely concealed impatience. “Look!” She momentarily forgot to be nervous, as she pressed her body to his. She stood on tiptoes, bringing her face closer to his, so that their line of vision was the same. “Look at the stars. Not showing off against the black sky, but rather twinkling bravely against the dusk. Those stars are ancient; what have they seen in their time? What have they witnessed and bemoaned? Look at the colours in the sky – how can the sky be orange and pink? It is for the smallest moment that it has these colours, and all the more magic for how fleeting it is. Taking such beauty for granted is the beginning of the death of one’s soul.” She pressed closer, hoping that she could convince him. “And look at the city below. A city like London that is perpetually busy, never sleeping, is awed by the dawn’s rays. It’s quiet. It’s hopeful. It’s reverent. It’s perfect.”
“And yet I find it hard to look at anything but you,” he said seriously.
“Sabato,” she said his name for the first time, liking the way it felt in her mouth.
“Cara,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around her. “This is madness. You are too sweet to be here with me, and yet I can’t help myself. I knew the moment I saw you that I wanted you. You are a virgin.” He lifted a finger to her lips, to hush her when she was obviously about to interject. “And I want, very much, to introduce you into the world you’ve been missing.”
Emily was silent. A thousand and one thoughts sledged through her mind but she couldn’t grab a single one. She was terrified of herself. Of how badly she wanted to rip her clothes off and beg Sabato to make love to her. She swallowed anxiously. “I truly don’t know what to say.”
His expression was inscrutable. “Don’t say anything. Let me show you what I am meaning,” his voice was huskier and his accent thicker.
“Sabato…”
He shook his head. “We are not going to sleep together now, cara. That is a long way down the track. There are many, many, many things you need to experience before that.” He linked his fingers with hers, and silently pulled on her hand. It occurred to Emily that she could say something. That if she wanted to leave, then this was her opportunity.
But she didn’t. In fact, she desperately wanted to stay. There was not a single doubt in her mind. For the pleasure of being with Sabato, she would almost have sold her soul. And so she followed behind him, all the way into a bedroom that was bigger than her apartment.
“I’m going to undress you,” he said quietly. His eyes searched hers, looking for her reaction.
Emily was incapable of speech. She nodded, then watched as he stepped forward. Slowly, painfully slowly, he undid each button of her blouse, until it was open at the front, exposing the simple black bra she was wearing. His hands were warm as they ran over her stomach, and higher, to cup her breasts beneath the flimsy material. He circled her breasts until her nipples were hard beneath his thumbs, then he glided the fabric of her shirt from her body. Her skin was over-sensitised; every nerve ending in her body was alert and active.
He undid the bra easily, giving her a brief reminder of how comfortable he was in this situation. She ignored the slice of reality. She didn’t need to think about Sabato Montepulciano’s previous conquests. In that moment, for that morning, she was his.
His eyes were heavy on hers, his own desire apparent. “Lesson number one,” he growled against her ear. He caught her wrists in his, and held them behind her back. His mouth took possession of one of her nipples, and Emily cried out as the unfamiliar sensations caused an avalanche of new feelings. Her body was weak. She felt like she might fall to the floor. His stubble was rough against her soft flesh, the perfect contrast to his mouth – warm and giving. He dragged his tongue across her chest, focussing on the other breast. He pulled it between his teeth and rolled it until she was almost convulsing from the persistent waves of pleasure.
“Please, Sabato,” she cried out, her eyes showing her confusion as the first hint of orgasm sent unnerving sensations spiralling through her body. “Oh, God, what is this?”
He pulled on her wrists a little, so that she bent backwards, and he ran his tongue down her chest, towards her belly button. Yes, he needed her too; he perfectly understood her desperation.
He undid her pants and lifted her to the bed in one smooth movement. He positioned her in the middle. “I want you to watch your beautiful dawn, while your body comes alive for the first time,” he commanded huskily. He disposed of her underwear, then moved himself, so that he could take her breasts in his mouth once more.
Emily’s cries were shrieks in the air. She was an animal, reduced to her most base emotions and needs. A carnal lust that defied understanding groaned through her. It was not possible to express with words, it simply was. She dug her feet into the bed, her knees directed towards the sky. Sabato ran his fingers down her body, and scooped his palms beneath her buttocks.
When his tongue, his powerful, distracting tongue, connected with her most private self, Emily arched her back and sobbed. “Sabato,” she said, a momentary flash of embarrassment at having someone down there immediately silenced by the total sense of need that was making all of her resolves crumble. “Shit,” she swore now, though she rarely did. Waves of something totally unfamiliar were making her whole body shake.
“Look out the window. Every time you watch the dawn, I want you to remember this.” He was possessive, and it was incredibly erotic.
Emily focussed her eyes on the burgeoning day, cresting over the park beyond the window. When she thought she was about to fall apart at the seams, he moved a finger gently inside her moist core, and Emily bucked forwards. Her first orgasm was a revelation. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she moaned, over and over, and dug her fingers into the soft quilt.
In, out. In, out. She focussed on her breathing, and tried to bring it back under control. But her lungs were burning, her body was soaring, her mind was exploding. That was sex? That’s what she’d been missing out on? That’s what she’d been avoiding because she never wanted to end up as her mother had? Pregnant and alone as a teenager?
She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in another deep breath.
“That wasn’t sex,” he said, and Emily realised she must have spoken the words aloud. “It was just an introduction.”
Emily blinked her eyes open, bringing his face into focus. “I just met you.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t make sense.”
“No.” She nodded thickly. It certainly didn’t. Naked on his bed, just as he’d imagined her within moments of their first conversation. Relief flooded his system, but something else too. Regret? Regret that he’d taken this beautiful girl and made her just another of his sexual playthings?
Oh, he hadn’t yet, but she was putty in his bed, and it was only a matter of time.
The two sides of Sabato were at war. The moralistic man he was, most of the time, was attempting to drown out the Sabato who was renowned for his voracious sexual appetite. Just this once, moral Sabato was urging, stop thinking with your cock.
“Do you want more, cara?” Sensual Sabato asked, bringing his body over hers and moving his erection, strong and obvious through his clothes, towards her entrance. He ground himself against her and was grateful for the barrier of his suit. God, he wanted to drive himself into her more than he’d ever wanted another woman. Were it not for the tuxedo, he suspected he might have done just that.
Emily scanned his face, focussing on his mouth. That magical, beautiful mouth. “Is there really more?”
His laugh was soft. “So much more. Stay with me today and I will show you.”
CHAPTER THREE
He carried her as though she were made of glass. Fragile and unique. He held her cradled against her chest, and laid her in the bath. It was warm and bubbled, the fragrance was vanilla and orange blossom.
Emily was struggling to keep her eyes open, and agai
n, Sabato felt that stab of guilt. He should be letting her sleep, not driving her wild over and over again. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lashes two perfect black fans against her soft cheeks. “How old are you, Agnes?” He asked quietly, kneeling beside the bath. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and reached for the sponge. He lathered it with soap and began to sponge her exposed back.
“Emily,” she murmured drowsily. “My name is Emily.”
Sabato’s hand stilled. “Why didn’t you say so before now?”
She smiled slowly. “There seemed to be more important things to focus on.”
“I see,” he nodded swiftly, and resumed his sponging of her body. “It suits you.”
“It’s my grandmother’s name. We call her Milly though. To avoid confusion.” Her words were weak from tiredness.
“How old are you, Emily?” He repeated his question, adding more lotion to the loofah and transferring to her shoulders. Emily shuddered as he brought it down over her breast and washed them. Though his touch was gentle, her skin was raw from his ministrations.
“Twenty two.”
More guilt. More of the good Sabato chastising the bad. Her eyes lifted, but it was slow, as though the lids were weighed down. “And you?”
“Thirty one.”
She reached out and ran her fingers down his cheek. She stared at him thoughtfully, her expression impossible to decipher. Until she yawned, and then finally, he understood. He needed to let her sleep. No matter how much he wanted to keep making her face contort with pleasure, her body writhe beneath his, he needed to let her rest.
He reached down and pulled the plug, then grabbed a fluffy towel from behind the door. “Stand up,” he commanded.
“I don’t know if I can,” she half-joked, gripping the side of the bath for support. Her body was weak from the sensations that had been crashing against it all day.
He made a noise deep in his throat and reached into the bath. He lifted her against his clothes, barely noticing that she was soaking him. He placed her on the end of the bed, then returned to the bathroom to retrieve the towel.
Gently, he dried her, moving softly over her body. He wanted to stir her feelings up anew. At this proximity, it was almost impossible to resist moving his hand over her core another time. But she yawned anew, and he suppressed his own desires. He lifted her again, this time, placing her in the middle of the bed. “You need to sleep,” he whispered.
She nodded, wearily. “I should go home. I have things to do.” Her voice was slurred, as though she’d been drinking. She was so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Watching her was soporific.
“What things?” He pried, taking advantage of her state of relaxation.
“Work and getting ready for work.”
Curiosity sparked in his chest. What work? Something other than waitressing? Housekeeping? “What do you mean?”
“I have to be back at five tonight. To work.”
And though he’d spent the last few hours driving her to the edge of sanity and beyond, he felt angry at the very idea of her working again. Another long shift in his hotel would mean she had to leave him. He shook his head. He couldn’t allow it.
“Go to sleep, Emily. I will wake you.”
“You aren’t going to join me?”
He paused at the door. Now that was a seriously tempting offer. He looked at her naked form and made a couple of snap decision. Perhaps if he’d thought them through more fully, he might have realised that he was yet again allowing a certain part of his anatomy to guide his mind.
But he didn’t. “I just have to make one call, then I will return.”
Emily fell asleep with a smile on her face.
He dialled his assistant’s number by heart. “Alexandra, I’m at The Hanover. I need you to arrange for a member of their staff to take the weekend off.” He realised, as he was speaking, that he didn’t know Emily’s surname. It was a common enough moniker, and it alone would not be enough to free her from her work commitments. His eyes landed on her handbag and he reached inside, pulling her wallet out. It was small and pale pink. Soft, like her. He smiled as he pulled her drivers licence out. “Her name is Emily Parker and I have arranged alternative plans for her weekend. Please make whatever excuses you need to. Oh, and Alex? Be discreet.”
He needn’t have issued the last directive. Alexandra had worked for him for years, and in that time, she’d handled all manner of requests on his behalf.
He slid Emily’s wallet back in her bag with a sense of satisfaction, then walked towards his bedroom. Of all the women he’d seen that night, she alone had taken his interest. And she was in his bed. Sweet, responsive, sensual Emily Parker.
Sabato stripped down to his boxers, pausing only briefly to admire her sleeping form before slipping in beside her. The bed was comfortable and he’d been up for thirty hours. He should have drifted off to sleep almost instantly. But knowing she was there beside him was a drug akin to caffeine. His brain was firing, his body was energised. He propped up on an elbow, and stared down at her face.
What about her had made him so crazy with lust? She was beautiful, but so were lots of women. Petite, graceful, and self-possessed, he’d marvelled at the way she’d concealed her obvious disapproval of so many of the boring conversations she’d overheard. Almost concealed her disapproval, he should have said, for he had noticed. Then again, he’d been watching her more closely than most.
He lay back down, and forced himself to close his eyes.
Sleep came to him, finally, but his dreams were filled with Emily.
Time passed, as it tends to, and faster than either would have liked. Emily blinked her eyes open, and stretched her arms above her head. She felt like she’d been walking through clouds. Her eyes were heavy and her body was strangely relaxed. The sound of someone else’s breathing came to her and she startled properly awake.
Sabato.
Sabato Montepulciano.
She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, as regret seared through her. What had she done? Her cheeks flushed as she remembered what she’d been like, in his bed. The way she had screamed his name at the top of her lungs, incapable of caring who heard. She had been his slave, a slave completely to his will and her wants.
What the hell had come over her?
Oh my God, she mentally berated herself. Keeping her eyes on him, as one might a ferocious lion about to attack, she slid one foot out onto the carpet. So far, so good. She pushed her other out, and then stood, gingerly sliding the blanket back onto the bed.
Her clothes were spread far across the room. She bent down, searching for her bra, and underpants. The former was hooked over a lamp shade. The latter turned up against the wall, in the corner. She pulled them up and then began to hunt for her work uniform.
“You know, I’m only going to be removing those in a few moments.”
His voice made her jump. Nervously, she spun around, twisting her fingers behind her back. “Oh. You’re awake,” she said unnecessarily, licking her lips.
He nodded, his expression droll. “As are you. Did you sleep well, cara?”
Her eyes were tethered to his. The thread was invisible, but no less real. “Yes.” Emily didn’t think she’d slept so well in years. Not since the night her mum and Simon had been killed, and that had been with the aid of heavy duty sedatives. “ Oh, crap! What time is it?” She looked around in a panic, and when she didn’t see a clock, she crouched on the bed and reached for his wrist. The gold watch showed it to be early in the evening. “Sheez! I’m late for work. I have to go, I’m sorry.”
He caught her wrist when she would have leaped from the bed. His face had an intensity that sent barbs of pleasure shooting through her body. His voice was a thick directive. “Stay.”
“We’ve already talked about this,” she said, pulling at her hand. But he didn’t let go, and she fell against him, all thoughts of her work suddenly fogging out of her mind. “I have to work.” Pride made it impossible to finis
h the sentence. That she needed to work. Because she needed the money.
“Your dedication to your employment is admirable,” he conceded with a tilt of his head.
“You said you’d wake me!” She accused, wondering in the back of her mind why she wasn’t trying harder to leave him. After all, she was late for a job that she desperately needed.
“And instead I let you sleep. You were exhausted.”
“Damn it, Sabato,” she cursed. He had a small cluster of scars right at the top of his forehead, just beneath the line of his hair. She lifted a finger to it, distracted by the slight flaw in an otherwise perfect face. “My manager will be furious.”
“Your manager will be no such thing.” Sabato was cocky and self-assured, and yet she didn’t mind. It was sexy on him.
“Trust me, Ewan is already in enough of a panic with so many staff off sick. I’m leaving him badly in the lurch.” She leaned forward, pulled by some kind of magnetic energy. She pressed her mouth lightly to his. In every way it was a goodbye kiss. “I have to get back to the real world now.” Wistful. Miserable, if she were honest.
He moved closer to Emily, covering the distance she’d retracted. His body was significantly larger than hers; it was easy for him to cover her, pushing her back to the mattress. Not that she offered any resistance. He could see her pulse fluttering wildly at the base of her throat.
Sabato ground his hips against hers; the moment Emily felt his arousal her eyes widened. Her tongue darted out and traced her top lip, and he ached to follow its path. He found the hollow at the base of her neck instead and pressed his lips to it just lightly enough to send a shiver running through her body.
“I want you to myself this weekend.”
Emily arched her back, instinctively trying to bring her womanhood into connection with him. “Okay,” she murmured, surprising them both. “When I’m not working.”
He shook his head, tickling her with his thick dark hair. She didn’t laugh. Even that was erotic, with her body overheating as it was. He cupped her breasts in his broad hands, and took possession of her mouth. His stubble brushed roughly against her chin. Emily tangled her fingers in his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Seduced by the Italian Tycoon: From the first moment they met, she was powerless to resist him Page 4