Pregnancy Of Passion. Lucy Monroe
of experience was making her sound like she was stupid. It would serve her right if he withdrew his dinner invitation, she thought in frustration.
“Sì. I want to have dinner with you and now you have thirty-five minutes in which to ready yourself.”
He arrived thirty minutes later.
She was ready.
He took her to an elegant restaurant, where the food and the wine were delicious. They danced after dinner.
He pulled her into his arms, his hold intimate, and she did not complain.
It felt too good.
Sensations she had never experienced overwhelmed her as he swayed with her to the music.
It was sexual desire as she’d never believed it could be. Instantaneous. Hot. Unstoppable.
Pressing her even closer, he said, “You feel good, dolcezza.”
“So do you.” Her voice was husky and low.
She’d never spoken that way in her life. It sounded sexy though.
“I am glad.”
She tipped her head back to look at him and encountered eyes so intense, they burned right through her to the very core of her feminine sexuality.
“Sweet.” His head lowered toward hers. “You are going to taste so sweet.”
The kiss shattered every sense of who she believed herself to be.
She went up like a roman candle, burning with a heat she’d never even dreamed existed.
Unconscious of her surroundings, she twisted her hips against him, seeking some unnamable thing, some sort of relief from the conflagration of her senses. The caress only made it worse and he groaned, his lips taking on a hard sensuality that gave no quarter.
She desired none and responded with all the latent sensuality in her being.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he said, “We’ve got to get out of here, or I’m going to make love to you and get us both arrested for indecent exposure.”
Shockingly she heard herself teasing him. “I’ve heard the police are quite understanding about that sort of thing.”
He shook his head. “Do not joke. I am in agony. I want a bed with you on it. Now.”
Suddenly she realized where all this passionate intensity was heading and she froze. Literally. Stopping his rapid progress to the table.
He turned to her, his eyes black with desire, his mouth set in a grim line that she found slightly frightening. “What is it?”
“You expect to go to bed? Right now?”
His glare singed the edges of her heart. “What kind of game are you playing? If that kiss wasn’t a prelude to bed, what the hell was it?”
She didn’t play games, but he didn’t know that. His accusation made her take quick stock, however. She couldn’t very well tell him she’d never kissed like that in her life so had no experience of what it was a prelude to. Instinct told her that admitting her lack of experience to Salvatore would turn him right off. He was used to dating the most sophisticated sort of women.
“This is our first date.”
“We did the mating dance for two solid weeks in Sicily. I would have taken you to bed then, but to do so while you were under your father’s roof would have been disrespectful to your family.”
“And you’re so sure I would have gone?” Passion was fading, to be replaced by anger.
How dare he assume she would just fall into his bed like some—?
“Wishing would make it so,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I wanted you, cara. I still do. Desperately. But if you are not ready, say it now. We will take it at your pace.”
Sincerity was reflected in the tone of his voice, the depths of his eyes, and she found herself falling right back under his spell.
“I want you too.”
His nostrils flared and his body went even tenser, if possible. “Then let us go.”
She nodded.
He took her to his home and it was then she learned that he lived a large portion of the year in Milan, overseeing his family’s company satellite holding there.
Milan meant big business and big business meant ultra hi-tech security and superbly trained operatives.
He kissed her again when they got inside and she lost the battle before it had ever begun. She woke up hours later, her body aching in ways it had never done before with all her gymnastics routines. He slept on beside her, the sound of his breathing in the stillness a shocking reminder that she had never once shared another human being’s bed.
Her hands stole to her cheeks. They felt hot in the darkness. She was blushing. No surprise that, not after what they’d done. He had thought she was experienced and the overwhelming passion he sparked in her had lent credence to that belief.
She edged out of the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. She took a shower, washing a body that showed the signs of his loving. She closed her eyes against the evidence and finished cleansing herself. Stepping out of the shower, she saw herself in the full-length mirror opposite and went completely still.
The woman staring back at her was not the Elisa she had always known. This woman was a stranger. A sensual stranger. Her nipples were still hard and they ached slightly. There was a small mark on her breast. She remembered that kiss…He’d gone a little wild when she begged him to make the ache go away.
Those legs had wrapped themselves around a man with fierce urgency. Those hands had clung to his shoulders with all the strength of the supernatural, or so it had seemed. And that secret place between her thighs had experienced the most amazing pleasure she’d ever known, had welcomed him into her body with greedy need.
She felt different. As if she was connected to him on a spiritual level. Her emotions were engaged. Oh, yes, they were. She’d fallen in love so fast, she would doubt the reality of her feelings if they weren’t so strong.
But what did he feel?
He did have experience. He’d been to bed with countless women, she would bet. Could tonight have meant anything to him the way it had to her?
She was terrified of going out there to find out that it didn’t. Was he still asleep? He’d been sleeping soundly when she came into the bathroom. Maybe she should just get dressed and call a taxi, go back to her hotel. Avoid the whole morning-after awkward thing.
He’d said and done nothing to make her believe that the night was more than the temporary slaking of physical lust on his part. He couldn’t love her as she loved him. Not a man so special and sexy.
He had women crawling all over him. A night of lovemaking that meant everything to her would mean nothing to him. She couldn’t blame him. Despite years of avoiding casual sexual intimacy, she hadn’t asked for any promises. He’d given none. He hadn’t pretended to be in love, just in need.
Turning off the light before she opened the door, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness before stepping into the bedroom. She didn’t want to wake him.
Her clothes were scattered all over. She headed toward a pile of white she guessed was her panties.
“Cara, I missed you. Come back to bed.”
She stopped in the act of bending over to pick up that promising bit of fabric. “I…I think maybe I should go.”
“No.”
He moved so fast, she didn’t see him coming, but between one breath and another he was out of the bed and beside her.
He swung her up into his arms. “You should stay.”
“But…”