His Cinderella's One-Night Heir / Consequences Of A Hot Havana Night. Louise Fuller
because, even with every muscle in her body taut with denial, a subversive ache between her legs betrayed her with every plundering delve of his tongue. As he skimmed the taut stretch of her panties aside, her fingers speared into his black hair. She didn’t know what she was doing, and she didn’t care at that moment. Indeed, her only recognisable fear was that he would stop.
And then he touched her, a mere roll of a fingertip against the taut little bud below her mound and her body went haywire, her hips rising in a languorous roll, sweet and frighteningly strong sensation piercing her in a stormy wave. He sat her up and she uttered a little sound of complaint at that moment of disconnection as he unzipped her dress and pulled it down, the unclipped her bra with wicked dexterity so that her unbound breasts tumbled taut and full into his hands.
With a hungry groan, Dante caught a straining pink nipple in his mouth, bending her back over his arm to ravage the bounty he had uncovered. He was fiercely aroused and dimly amused at himself for playing around like a teenager instead of moving single-mindedly from A to Z to extract his own satisfaction as fast as possible. But there was, he was discovering, a shocking satisfaction to be found in her inexperienced responses, in the little gasping sounds she made low in her throat and the increasingly frantic grip of her fingers in his hair. He teased the damp flesh at the heart of her, tracing her body in a caress that almost sent her up in flames in his arms, and then gently exploring to learn that she was even tighter than he had expected.
Belle arched and panted into his mouth, helpless in his arms, her hips rocking instinctively as the pressure in her pelvis built higher and tightened like a band of steel inside her. She was reaching for that perfect moment, blind, deaf, utterly mindless when with one skilful flick of a finger he sent her flying into the sun. She shuddered and cried out, aftershocks of reaction convulsing her as he curved her up to him to taste her mouth one last time. And for timeless moments she lay there in his arms, ostensibly relaxed by the release of all tension but with her brain already leaping back to life to leave her deeply shaken by what she had allowed to happen.
In an instant she was off his lap, gazing down at him, connecting with brilliant dark, glittering eyes.
‘The third time you’re in my arms, I will be taking you to bed,’ Dante murmured slumberously. ‘Just putting that warning out there...’
‘You know that’s not what I want,’ Belle began awkwardly, her face burning because she was painfully aware that her behaviour with him was hard to defend.
‘You may be a contrary woman, but you want me,’ Dante incised with complete assurance.
And he was right, shamelessly, mortifyingly right to the extent that Belle didn’t bother staying around to argue with that statement. Her head as high as she could still hold it, she went up to her bedroom and shut the door, a sudden empty hollow feeling assailing her because Dante was still downstairs and every wanton cell in her body wanted him with her. She was learning that nothing was as black and white as she had believed it to be. Desire didn’t simply switch off because she didn’t want to feel it and desire was a much more significant temptation than she had realised. When Dante kissed her, when Dante held her close, she turned weak and dizzy with longing. Yet longing for and downright craving a man who would want nothing more from her than the fleeting pleasure her body could offer him could only lead to her unhappiness.
Even so, for the first time she was questioning that she had to love and care for a man before she would have sex with him. Obviously, Dante had no deep feelings for her, and the sense of being close to him that his honesty about his brother’s death had awakened in her was dangerously misleading. Was that what had happened to her? Had her sympathy bled over into some strange desire to comfort him that had somehow turned into a sexual invitation? She hadn’t meant that to happen and was annoyed that she had failed to call a halt.
Bemusement about her exact motivation and discomfiture over her own conduct kept Belle lying awake for a long time. She accepted that she was discovering stuff about herself with Dante that she would have sooner not known. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stamp out her attraction to him, nor could she remain level-headed enough to stay in control in his arms. All she could do now, she reasoned ruefully, was be on her guard and endeavour not to offer Dante any more conflicting signals.
Dante had a cold shower and wondered why he hadn’t simply swept Belle straight off to his bed. He was considerably more disturbed by the inexplicable truth that even foreplay with Belle was more exciting than anything he had ever had with another woman. She turned him on, hard and fast, and then she melted with delicious response whenever he touched her. Instead of being furious with her for walking away without giving him the satisfaction he needed, he was already thinking with anticipation about the next time she succumbed to the same hunger that was currently tormenting him. And then maybe he would walk away to teach her a lesson.
Picturing that scenario, Dante grinned with helpless amusement, knowing that the last thing he would do was walk away. He wouldn’t have the self-discipline to walk away because he had let her get under his skin, let her light him up for the first time ever with a fiery need to possess one particular woman. And why was that? Or what was it about her that had penetrated his defences?
What, for instance, had made him talk so very honestly about losing Cristiano? It was true that she would need that background to understand his family set-up and why the land deal was so very important to him. But he had shared details he didn’t need to share, drawn out by her warmth and those big compassionate eyes that seemed to offer understanding. In all likelihood it was all an act on her part, he told himself sagely, and she was striving to impress him, possibly hoping to stay in his life for longer than two short weeks.
The following morning, Belle was in a surprisingly good mood. She had behaved foolishly the night before, but she knew that she couldn’t turn back time and magically eradicate her mistake. All she could do was avoid getting too close to Dante and start trying to treat him more like her employer. Furthermore, the sun was shining, and she would hopefully be reunited with Charlie soon. More clothing had arrived for her to try and it was a definite treat to skim through the different items and pick a brand-new outfit to wear. She chose a light skirt and top combination, but she frowned at her hair, which was displaying defiant waves again after only one short evening of behaving like her fantasy straight hair. Her true self was fighting to come out again, she thought ruefully, and Dante would just have to accept that she couldn’t look perfectly groomed all the time.
‘A jeweller is visiting after breakfast,’ Dante informed her as she came down the stairs, trying to evade his gaze without being too obvious about it while her colour rose like a banner to advertise her self-consciousness. ‘And then we’re heading out to shop for furniture and some other items. Tomorrow, we’ll fly home to Italy.’
‘Why would we need to shop for furniture?’ Belle asked as she settled down at the breakfast table with him.
‘You’re moving in with me. Presumably a woman moving in with a man would have items she wanted to bring with her. You have nothing, so we will have to buy some stuff. I want us to look like an authentic couple, to my staff and everyone else in my life,’ Dante admitted calmly. ‘That we are only pretending has to remain our secret.’
‘Charlie’s authentic,’ Belle pointed out helplessly. ‘I am moving in my dog.’
Dante lounged back in his chair to study her. In silk that accentuated the swell of her breasts and somehow enhanced the satiny softness of her pale skin, she looked incredibly sensual and very touchable. He watched as she tucked a stray strand of bright hair behind one small ear and nibbled at her lower lip and reminded himself that seducing her would be cruel, because he was never going to offer her the serious relationship she wanted. He breathed in deep, recognising the erotic pulse gaining strength at his groin, and he shifted position in outright denial of her libidinous effect on him. ‘Charlie’s not enough on his own. We need to buy you some