by Pamela Aares
“I work in the kitchen garden.”
Rory’s limp handshake was as dismissive as her tone. Mermaid, whispered the voice in Natasha’s head. You don’t belong here, it taunted.
“How lovely to get to be outdoors,” Rory said in a lilting tone that made Natasha want to strangle her. “I’ve always thought people who had to work indoors all day are so unfortunate.” She looked to Anastasia. “Adrian invited me to have a look at the new thoroughbred he bought last week. Won’t you come with me?” She gave Natasha another dismissive smile before walking off with Anastasia. “Nice to meet you,” she said over her shoulder, her voice carrying on the afternoon breeze.
“Let’s get to work,” Coco said with a huff of breath.
Natasha wielded her glass of champagne like a torch to guide her as she walked onto the field beside Coco.
“If Stazi hadn’t carted that woman away, I might have buried her in a large divot,” Coco said through gritted teeth. She showed Natasha how to tamp down a divot with her foot. “Don’t get me wrong—I like most people. But Rory’s golden sheen covers a very black heart. What men see in her, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that she’s an heiress blinds them.”
“She’s very beautiful,” Natasha said, glancing back to see Anastasia and Rory approaching the group of male players. Rory was perfect beautiful-wife material. She’d have perfect, beautiful children. And a perfect future that didn’t include homeless shelters, welfare and remedial reading lessons.
“If she gets near any of my brothers or my cousins, she’ll get a taste of Tavonesi ire,” Coco said.
Perhaps if Coco knew that under all her misgivings Natasha wished that she might be free to love Adrian, she might get a taste of Coco’s ire as well. But Natasha wouldn’t be in Adrian’s future, at least not in any way that would impact the family. His future would include a well-turned-out woman from his own tight-knit world, a woman who came from and knew how to navigate waters Natasha didn’t swim in, couldn’t fathom and never would. The reminder made her heart tumble to the toes of her boots. She stomped particularly hard on the next divot.
“You don’t have to use quite that much force,” Coco said. “You’ll exhaust yourself before we’ve covered half the field.”
Exhaustion would be a welcome alternative to the sadness sinking in her heart.
“Where have you been hiding?” Adrian said as he strode to where Natasha sat at a table near the back of the tent. “I looked for you during the trophy presentation.”
Though part of her had wanted to flee after the polo match, she couldn’t ignore that she’d been specifically invited to stay. And she’d been curious to see the ceremony: the pomp, the celebration and the way the press hovered around the prince and the players.
“I’m right here. As requested.”
Though she kept her voice calm, she could barely keep from leaping up and hugging him. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and the tight-fitting riding clothes hugged in ways that had more than her heart racing. But it was the way he looked at her, as if she were a dish of cream he might lap up, that had goosebumps trailing along her arms.
He tilted his head. “You didn’t enjoy the game?”
“I loved it,” she said honestly, trying to keep her fantasies from roaring into full bloom.
“Well, Zoe’s team got lucky with that last goal, but don’t ever tell her I said that—she’d have my head. And it didn’t help that our Prince Charming wasn’t much help today. Flying around doing the Queen’s bidding has him out of practice.” His words were lighthearted, but the energy she felt emanating between them was laced with sexual tension. Or was that her imagination?
“You must be exhausted,” she said, fighting back the urge to kiss him.
“Seeing you has revived me,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere where we can talk. Are you up for a wander?”
“Now?”
He held out his hand. “Let’s escape all this madness. I know just the place.”
She took his hand. And discovered it wasn’t her imagination—the warmth that flooded her had nothing to do with the temperature of his skin. And when he tucked her arm into the crook of his and guided her out of the tent, her nerves danced with a joy she couldn’t fight.
Within minutes they were passing through an older section of the vineyard she’d never visited.
Silence wasn’t her friend right now. In silence her imagination would take flight. Further flight. Her fantasies would try their best to carry her away. Some days she wished she could just fly with them; today was one of those days. “Those gnarled trunks have seen decades of days come and go. Do you know who planted these vines?”
Adrian squeezed her hand against his arm and smiled down at her. “I love that you see what hardly anyone else does. I’ve been looking into the history of this place. My father bought it in a hurry, and the family that sold it hadn’t paid attention to it for years. And until the local growers get over their wariness, I’ll just have to do the research myself.” He stopped in front of a small, arched wooden door covering a space carved into a hillside. “Unless you’d like to help me. I could use a curious mind on the task.”
Task. Research. He couldn’t know the dull thud both words landed in her heart.
“I have my hands pretty full with the garden work.”
“I meant to ask—how is Enrique working out?”
Of course he wanted to talk about work. Hadn’t his sisters said that was all he thought about? She was a part of his plans, of his projects.
“He’s great, thank you. He’s a quick study.”
“That’s a relief. Coco has saddled me with more of her wandering souls than I can count. Sometimes I think her heart is too big for this world.”
Natasha considered his words. Was she another of those wandering souls? And though he made an effort to distinguish himself from his sister, from what she’d seen of Adrian, his heart wasn’t exactly hardened. His naïveté both charmed her and had her worried for him.
He released her hand and turned the handle on the carved wooden door.
“I discovered this spot a couple weeks ago.” The door creaked as he opened it. His boyish smile told her of his delight with his find. “The hinges need oiling, but the door’s still functional. Have a look.” He motioned her inside.
She stepped into the cool, dark space. A musky scent rose as the cool air swirled and mixed with the warmer air of the vineyard behind them.
“This is the original wine cave,” he practically whispered. “Why no one used it these past years is beyond me. It’s much better than the warehouse near town.”
He was so close she felt the heat of him. She closed her eyes and imagined the years of activity the cave had known. Wondered if lovers had ever met and explored one another in the darkness. And caught herself wishing once again.
“It stretches in for about a hundred yards.”
Natasha heard the delight in his voice.
He struck a match. The flickering light illuminated his face. But the smoldering gaze he held her with lit a fire in her she would never quench.
He tipped the match to a candle in an iron holder on the wall. It flamed to life, spreading a soft halo of light.
And before she could take a breath, he gathered her in his arms.
An uncontrollable growl churned out of Adrian as Natasha parted her lips and met his kiss.
He hadn’t planned on kissing her; he’d wanted her to make the first move. To invite him to be her lover, to renew the sexual connection he’d craved since the moment she’d left his bed. He’d planned to just show her the cave—she was the first person he’d thought of when he’d discovered it.
But the passion she met him with drove him to deepen the kiss and to pull her tight against him.
Perhaps an invitation wasn’t as important as he’d thought.
She tasted like sunlight and champagne and heat and want. He was never letting her go. The surety of his thought shocked through him.
&nb
sp; Never.
Unless his attentions were unwanted.
He wasn’t fool enough to think that anything he could do or say could hold her to him against her will. He wouldn’t want to have her like that. He had friends who’d pressured the women they’d been captivated by—sometimes obsessed with—to marry. Men who had dangled their wealth as an irresistible lure and who hoped that eventually their wives would come to love them. Such ploys never worked.
And even though in his deepest heart he wanted to give all that he had to surround her and Tyler with safety and prosperity, he didn’t want her to acquiesce, to be with him because of the life he could offer. He wanted her to love him for who he was under all the trappings of his wealth and life circumstances.
If his plan played out successfully, it would balance the power between him and Natasha and make the future he dreamed of possible. The native plant nursery business would be hers to run. She’d have autonomy over all decisions for developing the new business, over the marketing and management of her staff. They could meet on an equal playing field, each of them pursuing the life they loved, meeting together the challenges life threw at them.
She parted her lips and let his tongue find hers. Desire slammed through him, shutting down the messages of his brain. He ran his hands up her back, pressing his fingertips against her shoulder blades and pulling her closer. Her fingers curled into the hair at the base of his neck as she molded her body to his. His pulse hammered in his ears, and his erection jammed up against the belt buckle of his riding pants. With her so close, there was no hiding his desire for her.
But he didn’t want to scare her with his lack of control. He pulled his hips back a few inches even as his body screamed for more.
“All I’ve thought about since I last saw you was kissing you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I can’t say that’s all I thought of.” Her breath was warm against his cheek. She untangled her fingers from his hair and placed her palm against his throbbing shaft. “I’ve thought of a whole lot more than that.”
She slid her other hand from his neck and began undoing the buckle of his belt. It took all his presence of mind to wrap his hand around hers and pull it away.
He broke off their kiss. “No. Not here.”
“Yes, here. If I have to wait longer I might… implode.”
Before he could stop her, she pulled his shirt free from his riding pants and slid her hand up under it. The heat of her palm on his abdomen seared him, branded him.
She tugged at his shirt. “Take this off, Adrian.”
Her breathy command lit sparks in his blood. He pulled his shirt up and over his head. While his arms were raised, she traced her fingers along the muscles of his chest, tracking fire in their wake.
He cradled her head in his hands, intending to brush a gentle kiss to her lips. But as her tongue tangled with his and she arched against him, his control snapped. He fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. Her fingers met his and then brushed his hand aside as she began deftly undoing the buttons. She shimmied out of her shirt and dropped it to the floor of the cave.
He cupped her breasts through the thin cotton fabric of her camisole. “Take this off.” He too could command. Found he wanted to.
She pulled the camisole over her head, and the sexy smile she flashed as her breasts came into his view wasn’t saucy—it was devastating. She reached for him, but he circled her wrists with his fingers. He drew her hands down to her sides and held them there as he dropped to his knees. The moisture from the cave floor seeped through the fabric of his riding pants.
“Don’t move. I want to remember this moment.” He spoke with more restraint than he felt. “In this light you look like a sculpted angel.”
He released her hands and brushed his fingertips over her taut nipples.
She inhaled sharply. “I’m not feeling angelic right now.”
He cupped her bottom, drawing her bare belly to his lips. She gasped as he planted circling kisses. He tracked kisses up her body, and she drew in a ragged breath when he laved her budded nipple. She moaned as he sucked, then she cried out as he teasingly bit at the tip.
She slipped down through his hands and knelt on the clay floor.
Fire raged in him when she drew her palms down his chest. His body lurched as one hand roamed lower and cupped his balls through the fabric of his pants.
“I want to see, Adrian. Show me how much you’ve been thinking of me.”
He undid his buckle and pushed his pants and briefs down his thighs. Freed from confinement, his erection throbbed as the cool cave air made his balls draw up.
“You’re cold,” she said as she bent down. The blasting heat of her lips on him nearly made him lose his balance.
“Natasha,” he moaned as she took him deep into her mouth, squeezing his balls in her palm as she did.
“You have missed me,” she said when she drew up and licked a tantalizing circle around the hood of his shaft.
He wrapped his fingers in her hair and tugged her head back. “Do stop that or there will be no further discoveries.” He bent down and took her mouth with his, tasted the salt of his own sweat on her lips.
“I’m afraid that kissing a player after six chukkers might not be so pleasant,” he murmured against her lips.
“I like the way you taste,” she said.
Polo would never be the same game again.
She moved to bend down to take him in her mouth again. He held her hair wound in his hands, preventing her.
“I think it’s time I find out how much you missed me.”
Her hair shone like dark spun silk as he released it from his fingers. He pulled his pants and briefs up so he could maneuver, and spread his shirt on the cave floor. With a firm but gentle hand, he pressed her down onto it.
His hands trembled as he removed her boots. He undid the button at the waist of her jeans, slid them down her hips and tossed them into the shadows. The candlelight flickered over the white triangle of her panties. No expensive silk lingerie could’ve been more enticing. He knelt and tongued her through the soft cotton. Her buck of pleasure made him smile against her mound. He nibbled teasingly through the thin fabric as he slipped his finger under the edge, finding the moist, warm path of her cleft. With his thumb he pulled her panties aside and licked her already hard bud. She arched against his mouth and clenched his finger as he slid it into her. With slow, rhythmic strokes he played her body, determined to bring her every pleasure he knew how to give.
“Apparently you have missed me,” he whispered against her sex. Her hands gripped his head, and she tried to drag him up.
He lifted his head. The sight of her breasts, round hilled and tipped with nipples contracted with arousal, shot heat to his groin.
“Not so fast, Miss America. Has anyone ever told you that Americans do things way too fast?”
He stroked his finger deeper into her and bit teasingly at her most sensitive spot, then circled the pink bud with his tongue. She moaned and tried again to pull him away.
“But I can’t—”
“But you can,” he murmured as he slowed his strokes. “Surrender, Natasha. Surrender to pleasure.”
“I want you inside me,” she gasped when he slid his tongue away and then back again, teasing her beyond bearing.
He nibbled, and she writhed against his lips. “No, Natasha. I’m an Italian. We like to do things slowly. We like to enjoy the journey.”
He stroked and licked until her hips rose, pressing harder against his mouth with each wave of her building tension.
He found the slightly roughened, mysterious spot inside her that would send her deeper. As her muscles gripped his finger, he stroked a perfect rhythm, matching the cadence of her gasping breaths.
“Adrian, please.”
Had her tone had any honesty in its protest, he would have released her. But he knew the demands of desire. She could wait. She would wait. And he forced himself to call up all his wavering command to make sur
e that he could too. When he entered her, he hoped she’d want him so badly that she’d never think of another man. He wanted to be the only man in her mind, the only man in her heart.
Forever.
And then for one day more than that.
But he wanted her to feel the same. He wanted her to surrender to her desire. But he didn’t want her to surrender to him. He wanted her to meet him on fair ground. But that plan could wait to play out later, in due time. Now all he wanted was for her to surrender to the glory of making love.
He drew the tip of his tongue between the folds of her sex and continued licking her with a slow, steady rhythm, savoring her salty, honeyed taste. Her head thrashed as he laved her, and her inner muscles tightened harder around his fingers as she cried out his name again and again. He could spend an eternity pleasuring her, finding even more ways to send her into ecstasy.
When she bucked against him and then went limp with her release, her uninhibited cry shot straight into his heart.
Only the sound of their breathing broke the silence of the cave. He lifted his head and levered up onto his knees. Flickering candlelight shot streams of radiant light across her, lacing her body with a web of light and shadow.
She opened her eyes.
“Adrian.”
When she reached her hand out, twining her fingers in his, he felt like he’d been transported behind the lines of life as he’d once known it. He’d experienced great sex in his life but never combined with such surging, deep feelings.
The force of his recognition robbed him of words. He pulled her to him and cradled her trembling body with his arms.
She rested her head against his chest. Breath caught in his throat as she slid her hand to grasp his painfully throbbing erection through his riding pants.
“Do take these pants off,” she said with the breathy voice of a woman still under the spell of a powerful orgasm. “I want to see you.”
His pulse pounded as he wrangled off his boots and stripped off his pants. Turning back to her, his restraint was shredded. He drew her panties down her legs in one swift pull. He spread her legs and pinned her thighs against the cave floor with his knees. And admired the view. Her creamy skin framed lush dark curls and the slick pink flesh he’d been tasting and pleasuring.