by Day Leclaire
“Even the jewelry business?” she joked. Since he’d been at Timeless Heirlooms’ showing, he must have some connection to the jewelry industry.
He gave her an odd look. “Especially the jewelry business.”
Before she could ask the next logical question—why he’d been present at the showing—he handed her the wine. Their fingers brushed and she caught her breath, the sound a sharp, urgent reaction to his touch. The fragile glass trembled in her grasp and without a word she set it on the closest surface. Slowly, ever so slowly, her gaze shifted to meet his and time froze.
How was this possible? How could she experience such intense feelings for a man she knew nothing about? She’d always kept herself guarded, had made a point to develop previous relationships slowly and with great care. Emotional distance promised safety. This—whatever this was—promised excitement, yet threatened danger.
Spending the night with Sev would change her, mark her in some indelible fashion. And yet, even knowing all that, an uncontrollable yearning built within, sweeping relentlessly through her, a yearning she had no more power to resist than the tide could fight the forces that drove each wave toward shore.
She gave up the battle. Stepping into his arms, she surrendered to his embrace. Relief surged through her, catching her by surprise. It took an instant to identify the cause and realize that it felt wrong to be apart from him, that on some level she needed to touch him and have him touch her. That without him she felt adrift and incomplete.
Without a word, she helped him remove his suit jacket, the heavy silence broken only by the sigh of silk. His tie followed. She tackled the buttons of his shirt next. It felt so peculiar to stand before him and perform such an intimate, domestic chore. This should be a wife’s pleasure. Or a lover’s. She was neither. Or did a one-night stand qualify her as his lover?
His shirt parted, the crisp white of fine cotton juxtaposed against the tawny darkness of his skin. Her hands hovered for an instant, creating an additional contrast of cream against rich gold, before she flattened her palms against hard, bare flesh. She splayed her fingers across the rippled warmth and slid them upward, sweeping his shirt from his shoulders. Desire hummed through her veins and reverberated in her soft murmur of delight.
“Nice,” she whispered.
“I plan to make it nicer.”
A laugh escaped her. “I didn’t notice before, but you have an accent.”
His mouth curved to one side, an answering laugh turning his eyes to a dazzling gold. “Maybe it’s because Italian was our first language, even though my brothers and I were born and raised in San Francisco.”
She wanted to ask more questions, to learn everything possible about him. But more urgent demands took precedence. Unable to help herself, she feathered a line of kisses along the firm sweep of his jaw. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Forking her hands into his crisp, dark hair she drew his head downward and found his mouth with hers.
With a moan of pleasure, she sank inward, tasting the single sip of wine he’d consumed before passion had overruled social niceties. He teased her with a series of gentle kisses, at distinct odds with the ones they had shared earlier.
These tempted. Suggested. Offered a dazzling promise of hot, sultry nights and endless pleasure. She pressed closer, her silk-covered breasts warm and heavy against the bare expanse of his chest. She reached for the zip to his trousers just as an insistent burr came from the cell phone he’d tucked into his pocket. Startled, she took a hasty step back.
“Wait.” Sev fished out the phone and set it for voice mail before tossing it toward a nearby coffee table. It missed, clattering to the floor. “There. All taken care of.”
“Don’t you need to get that?” she asked.
“It’s just my brother. It can wait until morning.”
A slight frown creased his brow. Once upon a time he’d have taken Marco’s call regardless of the circumstances. On some level he recognized the urgency of speaking to his brother. But that urgency faded to a dull, nagging sensation, one easily dismissed.
Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Not this crazed need. Not taking time away from business for a sexual interlude. Not the haste and desperation of making this woman his. From the minute they kissed, nothing else existed for him but a raw, desperate wanting, one he intended to satisfy.
“Forget about the phone.” He cupped her neck and urged her closer, forking his fingers into her hair and tumbling the loosened strands into total disarray. “Forget about everything but right here and right now.”
She relaxed against him and in the muted light her hair gleamed softly while her dark eyes held mysteries he longed to probe. He found the zip to her dress and lowered it the length of her spine. She released a sigh as the fabric parted. Inch by inch, the silk slid from her shoulders, revealing acres of smooth, pale skin. It skimmed her breasts before drifting downward to cling to her hips. A simple nudge sent the gown floating to the carpet, leaving her standing within his embrace wearing nothing but garter and stockings, panties and heels. And her jewelry. It glittered against a palate of cream.
He cupped her hips, supporting her as he sank downward, brushing a series of slow, openmouthed kisses from the pearled tips of her breasts to her soft belly. He slipped her heels from her feet and tossed them aside. Then he turned his attention to her stockings. It only took a moment to release the light-as-air nylons and roll them down the endless length of her legs, before disposing of her garter belt.
Damn, but she was sheer perfection, with narrow, coltish ankles, shapely calves and long, toned thighs. He paused where lilac silk acted as her final bastion of defense to press a kiss against the very heart of her. She trembled beneath his touch, sagging within his grasp.
“No more,” she gasped. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” he replied roughly.
And he did. If they didn’t find the bedroom soon, they weren’t going to make it there at all. He rose and her hands flew to his waistband, ripping at his belt and zipper. He backed her toward the bedroom as she fought to strip him, all the while snatching greedy, biting kisses. In the hallway, he kicked off his shoes and stepped free of his trousers. And then he swung her into his arms.
Sev reached the bed in three short steps and returned her to her feet. He cupped her face, his hands sweeping past the necklace she still wore. The feel of cool gemstones against his heated flesh allowed sanity to return for a brief instant, at least long enough for him to recognize his obligation to protect her jewelry from harm. With a practiced flick of his fingers, he removed necklace, bracelet and earrings and arranged them with due care on the nightstand table.
Satisfied, he returned his attention to Francesca, lowering her to the mattress. She lay in a tumble of creamy white against the darkness of the duvet. Opening the box he’d purchased at the gift store, he removed protection and put it within easy reach. Then he stripped off his boxers and joined Francesca on the bed. Lights from the city drifted through the unshaded windows opposite them, tinting her with an opalescent glow that battled the shadows attempting to conceal her from him.
The peaks of her naked breasts reflected the muted light, while darkness flung a protective arm low across her belly where her final scrap of clothing remained. She lay quietly beneath his scrutiny, her face turned toward his. Light and shadow worked its magic there, as well, the moon slicing a band of brightness across the ripe fullness of her bee-stung mouth, leaving her eyes—eyes the deep, rich brown of bittersweet chocolate—hidden from him.
He traced a path from moonlight to shadow, delving into the mysteries the dark kept hidden. Her eyes fluttered shut and filled him with an intense curiosity to know all she fought to hide. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m wondering how I came to be here.” She shuddered beneath his touch and it took her a minute to finish. “One instant my life is simple and clear-cut and the next it has me so confused I can’t think straight.”
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��Then don’t think. Just feel.”
He kissed her cupid’s mouth. Unable to resist, he captured the plump bottom lip between his teeth and tugged ever so gently. His reward came in the low, helpless moan that escaped her.
“Do that again,” she urged.
“All night long, if that’s what you want.”
He teased her lips once more, light, brushing strokes that promised without satisfying, suggested without delivering. To his amusement, she chased his wandering mouth in greedy pursuit. He finally let her catch him, delighting in the way she coaxed him into a deeper kiss. She gave both promise and satisfaction, delivering on all he’d suggested. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, of the incredible parry and slide and nibble of lips and tongue and teeth.
With each exchange, the fever within burned higher and brighter, demanding instant gratification. Sev resisted, refusing to rush. Francesca deserved more. For that matter, so did he. He wanted to explore every inch of her, to delve over each luscious hill and into every valley. To commit her to memory, and then repeat the process in case he’d missed something.
“Why have you stopped?” The question came in a whisper, her confusion communicated through the growing tension in her shoulders and back. “Is something wrong?”
“I haven’t stopped,” he reassured. “I’ve just slowed down.”
“Oh, I get it. You want to drive me crazy.”
He chuckled. “Drive us both crazy.”
Her tension changed in tenor, no longer a self-conscious nervousness, but a woman’s driving desire, full-bodied and certain. A vibrating need sent a burst of urgency through him. Maybe he’d been kidding himself. Slow was guaranteed to kill him.
Her long graceful hands swept across his torso from shoulder to hip, exploring with open delight. Despite her eagerness, he sensed a tentativeness behind each touch, a newness that spoke of sweet inexperience, right up until her hand closed around him with gentle aggression. Okay, maybe not total inexperience. She found the foil packet he’d set aside for their use and ripped it open, sliding the condom over him with deliberate, torturous strokes. Unable to stand another second, he rolled her under him.
Her body gave as only a woman’s body could, accommodating the press and slide of a man’s passion. The moonlight shifted, fully baring her to his gaze. High, round breasts tempted his caress, the nipples already ripe and taut with need. He gave them his full attention, each sweep of tongue and hand causing her breath to hitch and her heartbeat to race. Drifting lower, he paused long enough to give due attention to an abdomen that combined the sheen of satin with the softness of down.
And then he eased her panties from her hips. He followed their path with a string of kisses, before drawing the scrap of silk and lace off and allowing it to drift to the floor behind him. With that final garment removed, it left nothing between them but heated air. Neatly cropped honeyed curls shielded the apex of her thighs and he cupped her there, drawing a single finger along the damp cleft, inciting a shudder of desperate yearning.
“It’s been a while,” she warned. He caught the hint of apprehension she struggled to control. “I haven’t—”
He was quick to reassure. “I’ll go slow. You can stop me if I do anything you don’t like.”
“I won’t stop you.” Her eyes darkened. “I can’t.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.” He swept her loosened hair away from her eyes, the dark blond strands framing the face of an angel. “Slow and easy now, sweetheart. Open for me,” he urged. “Let me in.”
To his relief, she didn’t hesitate. Her thighs parted, lifted, exposing her most private secrets to him. Ever so gently he teased the opening, tracing his thumb across the very center of her pleasure. She tensed, drawn bowstring-taut, and the breath escaped her lungs in a moan of sheer delight. Again he circled and swirled, until he sensed she teetered on the very edge, before he eased between her legs and sank into her.
She fisted around him, hot and slick and tight. He fought for control and a modicum of finesse, while instinct rode him, slashed through him, inciting him to take her hard and fast. To mate. To storm her defenses and shatter them once and for all. But he couldn’t hurt her like that. She deserved better. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pressed inward. If she hadn’t told him of her previous lover, he’d have sworn she’d come to him untouched.
“Am I hurting you?” The guttural tone of his voice shocked him. He could hear the raw, feral quality of a man teetering on the edge. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No. I need . . .” A rosy flush of want rode her cheekbones, and her expression in the moonlight revealed a vulnerability to him and him alone. She twined her arms and legs around him, her fingernails digging into his back. “More, please.”
He didn’t require any further encouragement. He drove home with a single powerful thrust. Her cry of astonished delight was everything he could have asked for and then some. She moved with him, finding the rhythm with impressive speed, riding the ferocity of the storm with him. He slid his hands beneath her, cupped her bottom and angled her in order to give her the most pleasure.
The storm intensified, howling through him with each stroke. Rational thought fled before a single inescapable imperative. Take the woman. Make her his. Put an indelible stamp on her, one that would bind them together from now through all eternity. She belonged to him now, just as he belonged to her. There was no changing that fact. No going back.
The storm reached its zenith, tearing at him, threatening to rip him apart. Even in the midst of the insanity, even at his most frantic, he remained focused on Francesca. Her needs. Her desires. She anchored him, even as she drove him onward, giving and gifting and surrendering. Her unique feminine perfume, the scent of passion, filled his nostrils. He could feel her approaching her climax and sealed her mouth with his. She arched upward as it hit, and he drank in her cry of ecstasy as though it were the sweetest of wines.
It was his turn after that, his release unlike any he’d ever experienced before. She’d done that to him. For him. With him. She’d marked him in some ineradicable fashion. Given him something uniquely hers to give, something he’d never known with any other woman.
“Oh, my,” she murmured long afterward, the breath still hitching from her lungs. “That was . . . unexpected.”
“Very.” As unexpected as it was unforgettable.
Struggling to catch his own breath, he gathered her up and rolled with her to take the weight from her and transfer it to him. She curled close with a unique feline grace, entangling their limbs into an inescapable knot, part feminine silk, part masculine sinew. Full, round curves cushioned hard angles. With the sweet, gusty sigh of a woman well-satisfied, sleep claimed her.
He lay awake for a long time, holding her close. His palm still itched and burned from that first contact and he longed to rub it. He resisted, not wanting to disturb Francesca’s slumber.
Their joining should have fulfilled him, satiated whatever fever fired his blood and drove him to make this woman his. It hadn’t. Not by a long shot. It should be over now, the flame diminished to a mere flicker. It wasn’t. It continued to roar like wildfire driven before a gale. Instead of ending things, their lovemaking had rooted the bond between them, weaving the fabric of their connection into a tight, inseparable warp and weft.
Whether she knew it yet or not, this night had made her his.
Francesca stirred beneath the benevolent rays of the early morning sunshine.
Lord, she felt incredible. Warm. Relaxed. Happy. She didn’t know what had caused such an amazing sensation, but considering how fleeting such feelings could be, she didn’t want to move in case it went away.
A heavy masculine hand skated down the length of her spine to cup her bottom, giving it a loving pat. “Mmm. Nice.”
What the hell? Francesca’s eyes flew open and she stared in horror at the gorgeous male relaxing inches from her nose. Sunlight marched boldly across the bed and openly caressed a man whose bone structure manage
d to combine both a masculine hardness and a mouth-watering allure. Thick, ebony hair framed high, sweeping cheekbones and an aristocratic nose. He smiled drowsily, his wide sensuous lips stirring images of all the places that mouth had been. Memory crashed down on her, overwhelming in its intensity.
What had she done? A better question might have been, what hadn’t she done? In the brief time they’d spent together, they’d made love in every conceivable fashion. Of course, she’d reveled in every minute. Sev had proven an outstanding lover. But the romantic illusion cast by the glittering evening had faded beneath the harsh reality of morning light. She’d had a job to do last night at Le Premier, and instead she’d—
Francesca bolted upright in bed in a flat-out panic. Her job! Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn! What had she done? How could she have been so foolish? The Fontaines were going to kill her when she arrived at the office. She scrubbed the heels of her hands across her face.
This was not good. What in the world would she say to them? How could she possibly explain what she’d chosen to do instead of representing Timeless Heirlooms at last night’s showing? She needed to get home immediately and call them. But first, she needed to return the jewelry she’d worn last night before Tina went into total meltdown. Assuming she hadn’t already.
Francesca thrust a tangle of curls from her face and looked desperately around for a clock, hyperventilating when she read the glowing digits that warned she had precisely half an hour to get to Timeless Heirlooms and explain herself to the Fontaines.
“Where are you going?” Sev asked in a sleep-roughened voice. He snagged her around the waist and tipped her back into his embrace. “I have the perfect way to start our morning.” A slow smile built across his face. “Funny thing. It involves staying right here.”
She wriggled against him. “No. Please let go. You don’t understand.”
“Mmm.” He reacted to her movements in a way she’d have delighted in only hours before. “That feels good.”
“I have to get to work.”