by Jennie Lucas
Feeling him so deep inside her, all the way to her heart, pleasure blazed through her like a wildfire, consuming her. She’d wanted him for so long.
The wickedness of letting him do this to her when she hated him, when any moment someone might come into the hallway and see them, should have made her pull back and push him away. Instead, she only wanted him more.
Three more deep thrusts and she exploded in a shuddering cry, digging her nails into the expensive fabric of his tuxedo jacket. At that, he shoved himself inside her with a harsh shout, gripping her against the wall, his eyes closed with fierce ecstasy.
Tess slowly came back to earth, literally, as he released his grip on her thighs, letting her feet slide back to the floor.
His large hands smoothed her frothy white skirts neatly back down, as if nothing had happened. Turning away, he zipped up his tuxedo trousers. Watching him, Tess leaned back heavily against the wall, hardly able to believe what had just happened.
“I was never going to let you touch me again,” she whispered.
Stefano glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. His cruel, sensual lips lifted into a cold smile. “If this is you hating me, I like it so far.”
With a humiliated gasp, Tess turned away. He grabbed her wrist.
“Wait.” His voice was low, and his earlier expression was gone, replaced with some emotion she couldn’t identify. “Don’t go. I didn’t mean it.”
“You did that just to show your control over me,” she choked out, wiping her eyes, knowing she was probably streaking mascara across her face.
“Is that what you think?”
“What else could it be?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “I didn’t even show control over myself. I meant to take you upstairs to the suite.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I didn’t quite make it.”
Tess’s cheeks were hot as she looked down at the patterns of the carpet. “You blackmailed me into marriage,” she said in a low voice. “You threatened to destroy my family, to take Esme away.”
“It was an empty threat.” He looked at her with glittering eyes. “I would never take Esme away from you, Tess. Not for any reason.”
Shocked at this admission, Tess demanded, “Then why did you say it?”
“You were threatening to call off our wedding.”
“We barely know each other. All I did was share some doubts. And you proved my fears right!”
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said quietly. “But I couldn’t let you leave. Or Esme. I can’t just abandon you to the whims of fate and hope you’ll be safe. Marrying you is the only way I know to keep you safe.” He gave her a regretful smile. “I’m sorry if my method was a bit unorthodox—”
“Unorthodox?”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said in a low voice. “We have a lifetime. I know I can make you happy.”
A lump rose in her throat at the certainty in his voice. “How can you be so sure?”
“You said you spent the last year thinking of me.” Lifting his hand gently to her cheek, he said softly, “What you don’t know is that I spent the last year trying not to think of you. And failing.”
“What are you saying?”
“I never forgot you, Tess.” He paused. “There’s been no one else.”
Was he saying...?
“Impossible,” she breathed. “The model I saw you with yesterday—”
“Kebe?” He snorted. “She’s just a kid. I was giving her a ride home from a party. Although,” he murmured, grinning, “I like that you were jealous.”
“I wasn’t,” she lied.
“Didn’t my marriage proposal prove you’re the only woman I’m interested in?”
“You proposed because of Esme.”
“She’s not the only reason.” His hand stroked from the edge of her jawline to her sensitive lower lip. “You asked yesterday if I could be faithful to you. The truth is...” His dark gaze lifted to hers. “I have been. For over a year.”
There was a noisy burst of conversation from the other end of the service hall as a group of uniformed waiters appeared, carrying trays. But Tess couldn’t look away from his gaze. She was in shock.
Stefano took her hand with his own. “Come with me.”
“We should go back to the reception,” she said, trying to ignore the thrum of her heart. “People will be wondering where we are—”
“So?”
“Aren’t they your friends?” she said, bewildered.
“Acquaintances. I don’t give a damn about them. You’re the only one I want to please.”
“And Esme—”
“She’s fine with your cousin, isn’t she?”
“But...” She bit her lip. “What will my family think? Leaving my own wedding reception without a farewell?”
“It’s your day, Tess. Your choice.” His dark eyes seared her. “Do you want to go back and make small talk? Forget about what you think you’re supposed to want. What do you actually want?”
Tess’s lips parted. For so long, she’d worried about pleasing others. Always being cheerful, pleasant and helpful, no matter what. Maybe part of her had always been afraid that if she put one toe out of line her uncle and aunt might abandon her, as her father had, and send her away.
Raw emotion filled her. What did she want?
No one had ever really asked that before.
“I want to leave with you,” she whispered. His dark eyes gleamed.
“Then come.” His large hand enfolded her smaller one. As he pulled her down the shadowy hall, past the chattering waitstaff, it occurred to Tess that if their passionate interlude had taken any longer they would have put on a shockingly good show for a bunch of strangers. She should have felt ashamed.
But she wasn’t. After a lifetime of feeling invisible and desperate to please, something had made her reckless and bold.
Not something.
Someone.
Stefano wasn’t afraid of her expressing her true feelings, either good or bad. He was strong enough to take it. He didn’t judge her. He wasn’t going to punish her. He wasn’t going to leave her.
You asked yesterday if I could be faithful to you. The truth is I have been. For over a year.
His husky words echoed through her as Stefano led her into the Campania’s lobby. She shivered, hardly able to believe it was true. Stefano had been faithful to her for over a year?
Her hand tensed in his as he led her toward the elevator. Wealthy guests and elegant patrons at the lobby bar turned to gape openly at them, the famous billionaire prince and his redheaded bride in a diamond tiara and wedding gown. People started to whisper, to lift their phones to take pictures.
“Hurry,” Stefano said in a low voice, picking up the pace. She raced with him, clinging to his hand, her white veil and white wedding skirts flying behind her.
As the elevator door closed behind them, he pulled her hungrily into his arms. He kissed her forehead, her temples, her eyelids. He cradled her in his arms as if she were a treasure and he never wanted to let her go. And then he kissed her lips.
As the elevator traveled upward, Tess felt her body surrender in his powerful arms. When he kissed her, she was lost.
How she wished she could still believe in her romantic fantasy of him, that he was a handsome prince on a white horse, a strong, romantic hero she could trust. How she wished she could just let herself go, let herself love that man...
But she couldn’t. As he drew away from the kiss, Tess looked up at him. She couldn’t even think about loving him. Not unless she wanted her heart to be broken again.
Because however she might feel in his arms, Stefano was no knight in shining armor. Just hours before, he’d blackmailed her into speaking their vows at their wedding ceremony. What should have been the happiest moment of Tess’s life had instead been misery, an agony of hate and despair.
She couldn’t let herself truly trust him. She couldn’t let herself believe in the romance or give him her hear
t.
But as Stefano smiled down at her, his dark eyes gleaming wickedly, she felt breathless. Her heart pounded with emotion and desire.
She hated that he’d blackmailed her into marriage. But at least he’d done it for the right reason, she told herself. He wanted to protect her and Esme, and claimed that he would spend the rest of his life making them happy. Could Tess truly fault him for that?
Especially when he made her feel like this...
As the elevator reached their floor, the door opened with a ding. Still holding her hand, Stefano led her toward his suite. After unlocking the door, he pushed it open. When Tess started to walk inside, he stopped her with a chiding smile. “That’s not how it’s done.”
He picked her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. Her long white veil and white skirts trailed behind them as he carried her over the threshold.
Inside, the suite, already so luxurious, had been utterly transformed. She gasped when she saw the lavish vases of long-stemmed red roses and soft glow of white candles.
“What have you done?” she breathed, looking up at him.
His eyes were dark, caressing her face. “For you,” he said in a low voice. “All for you.”
As the door closed behind them, he carried her past the main room, with its glittering view of the New York skyline at twilight, toward the bedroom.
Breathing in the scent of roses, Tess looked up at him as he carried her to bed. The flickering candles moved shadows across the chiseled planes of Stefano’s high cheekbones and jawline. Like a medieval knight, she thought dreamily.
The bedroom, too, was filled with candles and roses. He set her gently on her feet, and she stepped out of her expensive white high heels. Looking down at her hungrily, he gently pulled out the pins that attached the diamond tiara and veil to her hair. He set them on the nightstand. The diamonds gleamed in the candlelight, the translucent veil lingering like a ghost against the marble floor.
Never looking away from her, he slowly took off his tuxedo jacket. He removed his platinum cuff links, one by one, setting them beside the tiara. He kicked off his expensive shoes, dropping his black tie to the floor.
All the while, she stood shivering in front of him in her wedding dress, knowing what was about to happen. Wanting it to happen.
Coming forward, he reached his arms around her and slowly unzipped the back of her wedding dress, letting it fall softly to the floor. Her shivering intensified as she stepped out of the gown and stood before him in her wedding lingerie.
She wasn’t cold. His gaze was a blast of heat against her skin.
He’d picked out her lingerie. She’d blushed when she’d first tried it on. The structured bodice of her wedding gown had hidden a strapless bra that barely covered half of her breasts. And, more shocking still, there were slits in the white silk so her pink nipples peeked through the fabric.
Her panties were nearly as bad, just a little sliver of silk, loosely attached to white garters that held her shimmering stockings to her thighs.
Feeling his gaze in the flickering candlelight, she started to take off her bra.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “Leave it.”
Reaching up, Stefano loosened her chignon so that her red hair tumbled down around her shoulders in a cloud of scarlet.
“So beautiful,” he breathed. Lifting her gently in his arms, he set her down on the enormous bed.
“So are you,” she said shyly.
“You’re mine now. To do with as I please.”
She lifted her chin, and repeated, “So are you.”
With a jagged intake of breath, he ripped off his crisp white shirt so swiftly she heard buttons hit the floor. Climbing beside her on the bed, he pushed her back against the mattress, lowering his mouth hungrily to hers.
She braced herself, expecting his embrace to be savage, for him to demand, to ruthlessly take, as he had in the hallway outside the ballroom.
But this time was different.
He gave, rather than took; he tempted, rather than plundered. His hands were gentle, caressing every inch of her naked body, even and especially the secret places barely covered by the sliding whispers of silk.
He seduced her slowly. Unsnapping her garter belt, he pulled down her thigh-high stockings, one by one, teasing her until she was panting with need.
He didn’t demand what was his by right. Instead, he begged her with his touch.
And all along, she could feel his desire for her, fiercely contained. How was it possible that he already wanted her again? But he did. He did not bother to hide it. He caressed her with agonizing slowness, taking his time, as if he intended to make their pleasures last forever.
They could, she realized. They were married. They had all the time in the world.
Reaching up, she kissed him, caressing his sharp jawline, rough with five-o’clock shadow. She ran her hands down his back, over his warm skin, feeling the hard power of the muscles of his shoulders and biceps.
With a low growl, he rolled her over so she was above him on the bed. A moment before, trapped beneath his weight, she’d felt bold, unrestrained. Now, as she sat astride him, she stroked her fingertips tentatively down his bare chest, then stopped, biting her lip.
“What do you want me to do?” she whispered.
His dark eyes glinted up at her in the flickering candlelight. “Take what you want.”
Reaching up to cup her full breasts through the bra, he lifted his head and gave one pebbled nipple a lick where it peeked through the slit in the silk, then moved to the other. She closed her eyes at the hot sizzle of pleasure spiraling in waves down her body.
Hesitantly she ran her hand down his powerful chest, lightly dusted with dark hair, to his flat, muscular belly. With her legs straddled over his hips, she could feel the hard thickness of his desire, feel the involuntary movement of him between her thighs.
Lowering her head with a tumble of her red hair against the pillow, she kissed his mouth, daringly teasing him with her tongue. He responded hungrily, kissing her long and hard. Reaching around her, he roughly unhooked the peek-a-boo bra and tossed the flimsy fabric to the floor. She relished the feel of her full naked breasts crushed against him, her tight, aching nipples brushing his hard chest. Instinctively, her hips swayed.
A choked gasp came from the back of his throat. Innocent as she still was, she suddenly realized her power over him. And she gloried in it.
She reached down to unzip his fly. With deliberate slowness, turnabout being fair game, she slid his tuxedo trousers and silk boxers down his legs, inch by inch.
Tossing them to the floor, she looked down at him in the candlelit shadows of the bedroom. He was a completely naked, magnificent male, his shaft jutting huge and hard from his body. She moved forward, intending to taste him even there, to tease him with her lips and hands. But, here, his patience ended.
With a low growl, he ripped off her white silk panties in a violent gesture, leaving the expensive garment nothing but tatters and ripped threads. Reaching around her hips, he lifted her up from his body, then pushed her back down against him, entering her.
Slowly.
Deliciously.
She gasped with pleasure, closing her eyes with ecstasy as he filled her so deeply—deeper still—stretching her all the way to the hilt.
As tension coiled tightly inside her, he gripped her hips, guiding her to ride him. She panted with the agonizing sweetness of the sensation. He felt huge beneath her, inside her. Leaning forward, she kissed him, trying desperately to hold herself back, to control the rhythm. But the pleasure was too great. Her body tightened, going higher and higher with rapidly exploding desire, and spiraled out of her control.
“Tess,” he breathed beneath her in the dark. Thrusting deeply, he groaned her name. “Tess.”
Something broke in her heart, rising from her soul like the sun after a storm. Joy burst through her, and all the broken little pieces of her soul came together in a bright blinding light. They were marri
ed. The two of them together made one—
A cry came from the back of her throat, rising to a scream that she did not recognize as her own as she exploded. In the same instant, he roared in harmony to her cry.
With a harsh intake of breath, she collapsed over him, exhausted, spent. Her limbs felt boneless.
Slowly his powerful arms reached up to wrap around her tenderly. For a long time, he held her, both of them naked in the candlelit bedroom. She heard only his rough breath, felt only the power of his body, lifting her with the rise and fall of his chest.
*
The next evening, as the chauffeur drove them through the streets of London, Stefano saw the awe in Tess’s eyes and felt a strange thrill of wonder. It was almost like he, too, was seeing the glittering sights of London for the first time. Big Ben, Tower Bridge, the Tower of London, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she breathed.
“You’re a New York girl,” he teased. “Surely you’re not so easily impressed.”
“This city is thousands of years old,” she informed him archly.
“What were you reading on the plane? The history of London?”
“I was reading a novel. Louisa told me.” Louisa was the flight attendant on their private jet. “London was founded by the ancient Romans!”
“So really,” he said lazily, “we should get credit.”
“You?”
“Italians.” He reached past the baby to put his hand tenderly on his wife’s knee. “Just wait until London Fashion Week. Are you excited?”
“Yes.” Looking at his hand, she blushed, biting her lip. “Very.”
And well she should blush, Stefano thought smugly, after the night they’d had. It had been the most amazing twenty-four hours of his life, even better than their first time. He’d made love to her four times last night in the hotel, then twice in the private bedroom in the back of the jet as they crossed the Atlantic. His wife. He couldn’t get enough of her.