by Day Leclaire
Chapter Six
Date: August 05 22:08 CEST
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Marriage Contract, Premarital Conditions . . . My turn
Lazz, I’m a little concerned about how we will eventually end our marriage. Romanos don’t believe in divorce, and I have no intention of becoming the first to change that.
Counter-Condition #2: I would like to have our marriage annulled when the time comes.
Ciao!
Ariana
Date: August 05 14:36 PDST
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Marriage Contract, Premarital Conditions . . . My turn
Is this open for negotiation?
L.
Date: August 06 00:19 CEST
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Marriage Contract, Premarital Conditions . . . My turn
Not even a little.
Lazz cupped Ariana’s hips and locked her against him, a delicious slide of male against female. Before she could do more than catch her breath in a soft gasp, he slid under her shirt and upward until he hit hot, satiny skin.
“I’ve tried.” His voice contained the same raw, gritty quality as sandpaper. “I’ve done my best to leave you alone. But I can’t. If you still want me to honor your request, you need to say so. Now. While I can still stop what’s about to happen.”
Common sense struggled to override base desire. Her motives for refusing to make love to her husband were sound. They were part of her core values, as vital to her well-being as her heartbeat. In addition, Brimstone was missing. How would Lazz view her actions tonight if her father was unable to recover the stone?
It didn’t take any consideration at all. He’d be furious and might even wonder if she’d sacrificed herself on the altar, as it were, in order to protect her family. But in this moment, her need to complete the bond between them overrode every last sensible thought. Whatever connection had formed when they stood before the altar and first joined hands had slipped into her heart and soul and become as much a part of her as those values.
No matter how hard she tried to resist, she’d have an easier time convincing the tide not to turn or the sun to dim its flames. She wanted him. Wanted his hands on her. Wanted their clothes off.
“Don’t stop. Please, Lazz. Make love to me.”
He shook his head, regret reflected in his expression. “I don’t think I know how to love.” He swept her up into his arms once again and carried her to the bed. He settled her onto the mattress and followed her down. “But you make me want to try. And I swear what I feel for you is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”
He didn’t give her time to respond, but lowered his head and took her mouth in a kiss so tender, so warm and life-affirming, that any remaining resistance slipped away. She opened to him, welcoming him inward.
A delicious humming darted through her veins. “More,” she murmured.
“Anything you want.”
“You. I just want you.”
He reached for her, then hesitated at the last minute. “I just realized. I have no way of protecting you.”
She stared blankly. “Protecting me?”
“From pregnancy,” he clarified.
She struggled to think straight, to admit—even to herself—she’d considered that possibility over the course of the past week, despite her marital conditions. That she’d done the mental arithmetic, just in case. “It’s safe.”
He accepted her at her word. “Thank heaven for small miracles.”
He grasped the hem of her cotton shirt and drew it up and over her head. She emerged breathless and rumpled. Lightning burned the room in hard white light, spotlighting her partial nudity. She heard Lazz’s sharp inhalation and caught a glimpse of the undisguised desire that cut sharp grooves on either side of his mouth. Green and gold fire flashed in his eyes as he looked at her, igniting a scorching path across her skin.
Darkness consumed them once again, alleviated only by the banked glow emanating from the fireplace. Thunder rattled the windows, struggling to gain entrance. This time she didn’t flinch at the sound, not while Lazz held her safe within the protective warmth of his arms. His hands glided across the silken curve of her abdomen and upward to cup her breast.
Her heartbeat stuttered before catching and echoing the beat of his, while frantic need exploded deep in the pit of her stomach. She arched farther into his embrace, a low moan disturbing the air between them.
“I’ve never touched anything so soft,” he murmured. “Or so warm.”
“I think I’m melting into the mattress.”
He chuckled, the sound deliciously intimate. “That makes two of us. It’s either melt, or set the sheets on fire.”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll get right on that.”
And he did. He caught her nipple between his teeth and tugged. She didn’t have a hope of concealing her response, not when it shuddered through her. He absorbed her reaction and excited another as he followed a velveteen path downward.
The breath escaped her lungs in a desperate rush. “What are you doing?”
He paused, tracing the indent of her belly with his mouth and then with his tongue. “You can’t say that in English, can you?”
She groaned. “No. Please, Lazz.”
“Let me in, Ariana. I want to know every part of you.”
“Don’t. I can’t—”
Reason fled and so did any capacity to speak. He slid his hands beneath her backside and lifted her. He touched her with surprising delicacy, a slow, thorough exploration that had her clutching fistfuls of the sheet beneath them. Her thighs tensed as he delved into the damp heat of her, and she would have jackknifed off the bed if he hadn’t held her in place. Again, he touched her, the tip of his tongue skating ruthlessly along its predetermined path.
The muscles in her belly drew taut, and she literally lost the ability to see or hear or reason. A deep quaking struck, the epicenter just beneath his tongue and radiating outward in great, rolling waves. She’d never experienced anything like it before, couldn’t seem to process what he’d done to her.
But he wasn’t finished. Before the aftermath of the final quake had fully died away, he surged upward and sank into her with a single, unerring stroke. She froze at the unexpected pain and fullness, catching her lip between her teeth so she wouldn’t cry out.
“What’s wrong?”
She took a deep, careful breath. “It’s a bit uncomfortable,” she admitted.
“I assume it’s been a while?”
“A while,” she confirmed. “If never is a while.”
“Never?” A moment of stunned silence followed. “Are you telling me you’ve never made love before?” he asked carefully.
Did he even realize he referred to it as lovemaking? Until that moment he’d always called it sex. “No, I’ve never made love before. I once heard some friends of Constantine’s—ex-friends—taking bets to see who could relieve me of my virginity first.”
“Bastards.”
She shrugged. “It was because I’m a Romano. It would have given them bragging rights to have been the first. But perhaps I should have mentioned it to you sooner.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “That might have been a good idea.”
“Has this deflated your interest?” she asked politely.
A rough laugh escaped him. “I think you can tell it hasn’t. Not even a little. I almost wish it had.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem if you go slowly.”
“Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can do. Right now, it’s taking all my self-control not to move.”
“What if I move?” Cautiously, she arched upward, absorbing a bit more of him, before sinking back down again. “How’s that?”
He groaned.
“Yes.”
“More?”
He didn’t answer. He simply took her mouth with his. His tongue slid inward before withdrawing in a leisurely rhythm. Understanding what he wanted, she shifted her hips upward, matching stroke for stroke. Little by little the rhythm picked up, increasing in speed and depth until she’d fully sheathed him.
She couldn’t say when he joined the dance. One moment she was leading, and the next they matched each other move for move. Scorching heat slicked across her skin and sank into her pores, radiating through her. She could feel the quickening approach again and moved to chase it.
Lazz raced with her, encouraging her with word and touch. Then he was driving their movements, driving her. They climbed, fast and hard, teetering breathlessly at the very peak. The air exploded from her in a sharp cry and she felt his final push to join her as she tumbled over. He stiffened within her embrace, frozen for a timeless moment.
She’d never seen anything more soul-shattering than his expression in that intensely personal moment. She’d brought him to this. It showed in his eyes, a knowledge that whatever connected them was utterly unique and all-consuming. That her touch, her embrace, had fulfilled him in ways he’d never experienced before. That no matter who or what had come before, she had changed him.
As though aware of how much he’d given away, he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ariana.”
“Sorry?” She stared in bewilderment. “Why are you sorry?”
“You deserve more than I can give you.” The admission was torn from him. “Your first time should have been with someone you loved.”
“How do you know it wasn’t?”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Love doesn’t guarantee a happily-ever-after marriage. It didn’t for my parents. In fact, they set a spectacular example of love gone wrong. I’d rather not follow in their footsteps. I’d rather not build our relationship into some ridiculous fantasy. Because when the fall comes, it’s going to be long and hard.”
“What about your grandparents?” she protested. “Your brothers? Haven’t they shown that a marriage can endure? That love can, as well?”
“It’s early days for my brothers. And my grandparents are merely the exception that proves the rule.” He took her hand in his as he rolled off of her. She doubted he was even aware of the way he interlaced their fingers so their palms were joined. “Right before my father died, I remember him telling me how alike we were. That I got my logical bent from him and it would make a successful marriage more difficult for me than my brothers.”
“And you think that means you can’t love?” she asked, stunned.
“I think it means he discovered The Inferno wasn’t real. He didn’t believe in it any more than I do. I think he was telling me it didn’t exist, no matter what Primo claimed to the contrary. That I shouldn’t go looking for what couldn’t be found.”
She stared, appalled. “Did your father actually say such a thing?”
Lazz’s mouth twisted. “Not in so many words. But I’m logical, which makes me fairly good at connecting the dots.” He released her hand and cupped her face. “Do you realize you speak in Italian whenever you’re upset?”
“Like now?”
“Like now.” He traced a fingertip from the hollow of her throat to the tip of her breast. “Of course, you also speak Italian when you’re aroused.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Like now?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She slid into helpless surrender, enjoying the delicious give of female to male. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. And it’s definitely not supposed to happen again.”
“It was inevitable.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly. You don’t believe in divorce, and I don’t believe in love.” He feathered a kiss across her mouth. And then another. “So where does that leave us, Ariana? Do you want to change the conditions we agreed to?”
A bittersweet laugh escaped her. “In case you didn’t notice, the conditions have already been changed.”
Lazz conceded her point with a brief smile. “What do you want from me?”
Love. A home. A real marriage, she wanted to say. But he wasn’t capable of providing any of those things. “I’m not asking you for anything.”
“Aren’t you?”
She flinched. Could he read her so easily? Could he really see into her heart, see the dreams and hopes she kept safely tucked away there? Had she left herself so open and vulnerable? One careless touch and he’d shattered all she held most dear. She needed to protect herself and pull back before he hurt her more than he had already. At the very least she needed to pull back until her father found Brimstone. Because if Lazz ever discovered she’d known it was missing and had still gone through with their wedding, he’d never forgive the betrayal. Not after what Caitlyn and Marco had done to him.
She slid from his embrace and escaped the bed. Snatching up the sheet, she wound it around herself. “This—” She gestured toward the rumpled bed. “We need to agree our sexual encounter never occurred.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sexual encounter?”
Her chin shot up. “Would you prefer I call it lovemaking?”
“Touché.” He lifted onto an elbow, not in the least concerned about his nudity, and regarded her through narrowed eyes. “You think we can just pretend tonight never happened?”
She kicked the trailing end of the sheet to one side. “Yes.”
“And if we pretend hard enough, we can have our marriage annulled?” he asked in a neutral voice.
Pain filled her, a soul-deep ache. “I don’t know.”
He hesitated. “We don’t have to annul it. Or divorce. There’s a third option.”
She froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we can stay married.”
“Because I was a virgin? Because we had sex?”
He shook his head. “Just because I don’t believe in love doesn’t mean I don’t believe in marriage. I want to have children someday.”
She drew in a sharp breath. Did he have any idea how insulting she found his offer? “And since we find each other physically compatible, why not?”
“That was more than physical compatibility. Way more.”
“So, I’ll do?” Anger bled through her voice and pure Italian took over. “Physically, intellectually, socially, I meet all the criteria for a wife?”
He swore. “I’m suggesting we consider turning our marriage into something more than what we originally discussed. If you’re not interested—”
She cut him off with a slice of her hand. “No. I’m not.”
Not on his terms. Not in such a cold-blooded, logical fashion. She closed her eyes, fighting tears. Was he really so emotionally detached he didn’t understand how his suggestion came across? Did he really not see how she ached for him to consider the possibility—even if for one tiny second—that fantasy could become reality? That his Dante family legacy might be alive and well and burning within them both?
She gathered up the shreds of her self-control. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Since the generator shed has been smashed, first thing in the morning we’re going to call Tolken and ask to be flown out of here. Then we’re returning home. When we arrive in San Francisco, you go your way and I shall go mine.”
He climbed off the bed and stood before her in all his glory. She struggled not to look, but couldn’t seem to help herself. He had the most magnificent body she’d ever seen. And for a short time, it had been hers to touch and taste and take deep inside herself.
It didn’t seem to matter they were worlds apart emotionally. It didn’t dim the want. Desire still hammered away at her, tempting her to bend. To give. To tumble again into an embrace she wanted more than anything, even though it promised nothing in return. At least, nothing permanent.
“You’re right,” he surprised her by saying. “First thing in the morning we are leaving. But when we return to San Francisco your way is the same as mi
ne. You made a commitment to me and you will honor it.”
“And you promised not to touch me,” she shot back. “It looks like we are both disappointed.”
Instead of rousing his anger, her comment provoked a laugh. “You gave me permission to break our agreement. And I wasn’t the least disappointed.” He took a step closer. And then he did something totally unfair. He swept his hand along the side of her face. Just that. Just that single touch. So gentle. So tender. Sincere regret darkened his eyes. “But I’m sorry if you were disappointed, especially considering it was your first time. I’d like to change that, if you’ll let me.”
She stared at him in desperate silence. She couldn’t have answered him if her life depended on it. Her first time hadn’t been a disappointment. Far from it. It had been the most incredible experience of her life, one she wanted to relive as often as possible. But that would mean surrendering. And surrender meant heartache.
“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.” He reached for the sheet and loosened the knot. “Do you want me to kiss you more? Touch you in a different way? Would you prefer I go slower? Go faster?”
“Not again,” she managed to say. “We’re not having sex again.”
Something slammed through his gaze, something fierce and determined. “Then we won’t.” He snatched her free of the sheet and swept her into his arms. “What happened in that bed . . . What’s going to happen again, is something far more than sex.”
“But it’s not love.” She groaned when his mouth closed over her throat, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. “This isn’t The Inferno.”
He tumbled to the bed with her. “There’s no such thing as The Inferno,” he insisted. Even as he spoke the words, he interlaced their hands until the heat erupted palm against palm. “And we’ve only known each other mere days. How could it be love?”
He slid over top of her, mating their bodies in one delicious stroke. She groaned, coherent thought fast becoming an impossibility. “Then what is this?” The words escaped in a choked gasp.
“I don’t know. But I never want it to stop.”
His movements escalated and he drove into her, hard and fast, racing toward that incredible peak he’d shown her earlier. How could the passion they shared be so strong and relentless, consuming them in great greedy gulps, and not last for all eternity? He didn’t believe, and yet she felt the fire within him. He burned for her just as she burned for him, her body like dry tinder to his scorching touch.
