A Deal To Carry The Italian's Heir (The Scandalous Brunetti Brothers Book 2)

by Tara Pammi

  Soon, he was dueling his tongue with hers, her teeth were scraping at his jaw, their bodies slick with sweat sliding and gliding against each other in an instinctual rhythm that defied something as rational as good sex. Arms vining around his back, she snuggled closer, her breasts rubbing up and down his chest. Pleasure came at him in waves, building up into unbearable pressure in his pelvis, a tingling storm sweeping up the backs of his thighs.

  Hands on her hips, he gently pulled her up and down, testing the fit. A spark of sizzling sensation raced up his spine and he closed his eyes, as if he could will the climax coming at him hard to slow down.

  A soft cry fell from her mouth as she wriggled in his hold.

  “I don’t remember it ever being this good, Leo.” A bemused, overwhelmed quality clung to her words.

  Leo ran his hands over all of her again and again, not getting enough of her supple, sweat-slick skin. All the while, she moved forward and backward, up and down, kissing his mouth when she came closer. The friction was incredible. Sweat beading on his brow, he willed his self-control to last just a little bit more when all he wanted to do was pound into her.

  Eyes wide open, she held his gaze as he trailed his hand behind a bead of condensation tracking all over her skin, and reached the curly hair at her sex.

  He dipped his thumb and found the slick bud throbbing for his attention. He saw her swallow, her breath coming in shallow bursts. Every time he stroked that bundle, she tilted her pelvis up and down, sending friction down the length of him. Every muscle in Leo’s body screamed for release. She was so close he could feel her body clamping down on him, contracting and expanding, and he wanted to push her to the last edge.

  “Look at me, cara,” he said, and she tilted her head down. “Cup your breasts for me.” He wanted to give her what he’d promised.

  Eyes wide in her face, she raised her breasts to his face. Leo rubbed his stubble against the tender nipple and then flicked the tight knot with his tongue while he kept his finger on her and worked her over and over. Soon, she was writhing and twisting and moving up and down on him and then with a cry that shot shivers down his spine, she orgasmed.

  Her muscles spasmed around him, setting off his own climax.

  Leo rode the wave of it with her, pushing her down onto her back. Wild and abandoned, she was the boldest creature he’d ever seen. And all he wanted was to lose himself inside her. He pounded in and out of her with a savage need he didn’t even recognize. Her eyes flew open, she clasped his jaw, and when she pulled her upper body and took his mouth in a shuddering kiss, she sent him over the edge faster than he’d ever known.

  His climax swelled through him, splintering pleasure far and wide. His breath was so deafening in his ears that Leo could see or hear nothing for a long while. He was still shaking with the force of his release when he opened his eyes. Sweat dripped from his forehead and fell on her neck, and the drop pebbled down her damp skin. He followed the drop with his finger, a fierce possessiveness filling him.

  Her eyes closed, her head tilted away, she was a study in sensuality. Leo ran his knuckles over her cheek before turning her to her side and joining her on the lounger. She was damp and trembling and warm when he wrapped his arm around her waist. Tenderness filled his chest and he gathered her to himself. For himself as much as her for he needed a physical anchor right then.

  It was a long while before the high of his release and the glut of emotions that had overpowered him ebbed. And in its wake an unusual knot formed in his stomach.

  Leo couldn’t shake off the sense of alarm that he’d gotten more than he had ever bargained for. And yet, as he tucked her into his side and wrapped his arm around her trembling body, he didn’t want to leave her.

  Not tonight. Not for a long time.

  * * *

  Her body’s unfamiliar aches in new places woke Neha up when she tried for a more comfortable position on the lounger. A deep languor thrummed through her, as if her limbs were filled of honey.

  The first thing that struck her was the delicious kind of soreness between her legs. Enough to short-track the details of where and what had led to it. As did the scent of what they had done thick in the air around her.

  She tried to sit up on the lounger when firm hands on her bare shoulders pressed her back down. “It’s okay, cara. I’m here.”

  Her chest ached at the tenderness in Leo’s voice. Neha stretched her neck back. To find herself looking up into that impenetrable gaze that she’d have known in the midst of a dream.

  His thick hair formed a wild halo around his face; his mouth was a little swollen, his expression as always hidden. Leo sat leaning against the back with one foot dangling down and the left folded at the knee, while her head lolled about on his thigh. He’d put both his trousers and shirt on, though the latter was unbuttoned. All she wanted to do was sink her fingers into his thick hair and pull him down to kiss her.

  She kicked back up into a sitting position. “How long did I sleep?”

  “Thirty minutes, at the most.”

  A shudder of relief passed through her as she noticed that her bare torso had been covered up with the T-shirt she’d discarded. Her shorts hung loosely on her hips.

  “You put my shorts back on me?” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

  She was aware of his shrug from her side vision. “Sì.”

  “You should’ve left me here.”

  He turned her to face him with a rough grip. “And leave you to find your way to your suite at the crack of dawn? I know you have this idea that I’m allergic to being tied down, but it doesn’t mean I treat women like trash.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” It was exactly what she meant. Heat washed over her. “I’m sorry for—”

  “Dio mio! Stop apologizing. It was either cover you up or wake you up for session two. You were exhausted after everything from the evening and that was the last thing you needed.”

  A rough shove of his fingers through that thick hair. Which like hers had taken on a life of its own thanks to the humid air. This version of Leo—hair wild, shirt unbuttoned—the intimacy of seeing him all rumpled and sexy, broke the tension choking her.

  “I wouldn’t have minded session two,” she said, tongue in cheek.

  His expression didn’t relent. If not for the muscle jumping in his cheek, she’d have thought he was already regretting everything. Did he regret admitting that he’d wanted to make love to her again? Or was he wondering if she’d make it all awkward and weird now that it was done?

  No, she wasn’t going to go digging for things that weren’t there. Overanalyze what was there. With a man like Leo—who exercised the utmost self-control and discipline—it was his actions that mattered. What he chose to say would always be more important than what he left out.

  She’d gotten more than she’d ever dreamed of having of him. If she lived to be a hundred, this would remain the most extraordinary night of her life. She’d found not only incredible pleasure but an inexplicable joy in what they had shared.

  Time to make a graceful exit. Without wondering what could be or what it hadn’t been.

  “I only meant to stay horizontal for a little while.” She looked down and up into his eyes again. “I’ve read that it’s good to prop your hips up after...to increase your chances of conception.” He folded those corded arms and waited. “So I didn’t immediately get up and then I fell asleep.”

  “You do not need a reason to not run away as soon as we’re finished, bella.”

  She nodded and pushed to her feet. He stood up, too, and all Neha could see was the broad sweep of his shoulders, the delineated line of his muscles, the lean tapered waist, the strong, hard thighs that had cradled her.

  Hand on his chest, she rose up on her bare toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Leo.”

  He took her wrist in his hand and slowly returned i
t to her. His gaze studied her as if he meant to look beneath the amiable expression she was determined to keep. As if he wanted to know everything she was neatly stashing away to be explored later. Or never.

  She tossed around in her head for some mundane topic while looking for her shoes. “What’s going on here?”

  His head tilted down, he was buttoning his shirt. A slightly reddish mark above his pectoral winked at her. Furious heat climbed up her cheek when she realized she had raked his skin with her nails.

  She watched greedily until the last patch of olive skin stretched taut over hard muscles was covered up. Fisting her hands, she swallowed the longing that rose through her.

  Asking him to sleep with her so that they could conceive had been easy. But now there was so much more she wanted, so much more she still didn’t have. Small, intimate things she wanted to share with him—like buttoning that shirt, or pushing that thick, unmanageable hair away from his forehead, or kissing away his frown...those would always be out of her reach.

  She looked away barely a second before he faced her.

  “With what?”

  It took her a few seconds to trace back their conversation. She walked around the lounger and ran her hand over one of the vines that had crawled up all the way to the high ceiling. “The greenhouse.”

  “I’m having it restored.”

  “Why did it get to such a dilapidated condition in the first place?”

  There was a tenuous quality to his silence behind her that raised the hairs on her neck. A cold remoteness entered his eyes. Those rough fingers moved over and over on an ancient-looking ceramic pot with two handprints on it—one adult and one child.

  “This ghastly place needs new memories.”

  Realization slammed into her. Her throat closed up, words coming and falling away to her lips.

  “It belonged to my mother.”

  “Oh.” There was a violence to his contained stillness, a restless energy that would only singe her if she ventured closer. And yet she couldn’t help it. “You must have got your green thumb from her, then. Massimo says there’s not a flower in the world that won’t blossom in your care.”

  A shrug that conveyed so much without saying it.

  “Do you remember much—?”

  “After she left, it went to hell,” he said, cutting her off. It was as if a door had slammed in her face. The tender lover of just a few moments ago was gone.

  “When I realized I wanted a greenhouse, I asked the architect to build a new one in the same spot.” He passed her and opened the door. “He said it would be a waste to gut the structure. He’s restoring it instead.”

  There was no doubt left that he’d preferred to have it ripped out. Maybe remove any sign of his mother in the process, like he’d done in every other area of his life. Like he’d advised her to do earlier.

  And yet, Neha intrinsically knew she’d never be capable of that. Removing the bad stuff meant removing the good stuff, too, and she could never sterilize her life of her mum’s presence. Before it had all been destroyed with her papa’s long illness and death, she had known happiness with her parents. She’d been loved by her mum, before her papa’s death had broken her, had changed the course of their lives permanently.

  The moment she stepped out of the greenhouse behind him, Neha took a bracing breath. The dip in the temperature outside had her shivering.

  Leo tucked her under his arm as they walked, their thighs wedged close all too comfortably for her.

  She knew she was dangerously skating over the invisible boundary he’d always drawn around the topic of his parents, but Neha couldn’t keep quiet. Couldn’t bear to know that it had affected him but had never been addressed.

  Because who would do that for him? Not his father, who’d been an abusive man. Not Greta, who knew no tenderness. Leonardo had always taken the role of the head of the family and the burden that came with it whether he wanted to or not...but had anyone ever asked him what his mother’s leaving had done to him? Had anyone even wondered?

  “I didn’t see any pictures of her in the villa.”

  “I have an early start tomorrow and I’d really like to get to bed now.”

  “Of course,” Neha replied, keeping her tone steady, even as tension swathed them. She wanted to push—she had a feeling he’d talk about it to no one, but the last thing she wanted was to be told it was none of her business.

  Physical intimacy didn’t equal emotional intimacy. Especially with Leo.

  Finally, they reached her suite. He turned the knob but didn’t release the door.

  “I didn’t mean to be so curt,” he said, his hand on her lower back, his breath raising the little hairs on her neck. He was a wall of warmth and want behind her.

  She nodded, refusing to give in on the issue but accepting his apology. Years of habits couldn’t change overnight, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted Leo’s secrets. That way only lay more blurring of lines and emotional labor she didn’t want to pay.

  “Everything is okay?”

  “Yes.” She turned her head and laughed softly. “Don’t worry, Leo. It’s not going to be awkward between us. I won’t let it be.”

  She didn’t wait for his answer as she went into her bedroom and headed straight for the shower. Even though she wanted to linger in the scent of him still clinging to her skin. She wasn’t going to turn what had been a fantastic evening into what could only be a dream made of cards.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IT HAD BEEN three days since Leo, for the first time in his adult life, had woken up late, sunlight streaming onto his huge bed the morning after the party, and felt a strange reluctance to begin his sixteen-hour workday. He had wanted to revel in the complete languor that had filled his mind and body. Three mornings ago, since he’d wandered through the villa only to discover that Neha had caught a lift with Massimo to London.

  He had no idea how the woman had found the energy to disappear the morning after what had to have been an eventful, emotional night for her. But then Neha had always possessed a no-nonsense, pragmatic approach to life.

  Three days in which he’d thought of her every hour, on the hour, as if someone had set an alarm in his head. Of how pliant and responsive and eager she’d been in his arms. Of how she’d felt around him, her gaze boldly holding his. Of how she’d tried to assure him that he had nothing to worry about.

  If he were honest with himself, he hadn’t needed that cheeky reassurance. Taking his honesty a step further, he even admitted to himself that he’d been annoyed by her reassurance that she wasn’t going to act the part of a clingy lover.

  He’d never had a connection like that with a woman even during sex before, the connection that had gone a little beyond the physical.

  Whatever the reason, he was finding that one evening hadn’t been nearly enough. If anything, seeing how incredibly good it had been between them, Leo wanted a lot more of her.

  He had a million things on his calendar to take care of—he’d been postposing his visit to his father. Silvio’s health had taken a rapid downturn in the last month. Alex was still acting strange even though she’d had the sense to call Greta the night of the party, and he had a meeting with Mario. A confrontation that had been coming for months that he needed all his wits for, and yet, here he was thinking of Neha in the middle of the afternoon.

  Basta! He’d never been a man to sit and wonder why he wanted something. He’d just gone after it.

  He picked up his phone and clicked on Neha’s dimpled smile on the screen.

  A flurry of voices accompanied her greeting. He heard the click-click of her heels and then quietness. “Hey, Leo.”

  Just her voice sent memories of remembered sensations rushing through him.

  Cristo, she’d openly admitted she wanted him. He didn’t have to stand here and moon about that one experience like a teenager.
He could simply arrange to see her again. And take her to bed. “I called to see how you are.”

  “Oh, thanks. I’m good, yeah? Y’know, the usual. Back-to-back meetings, morning to night, but I’m okay.” A pause, and he could feel her hesitation through the space. “Did you get a chance to talk to Mario?”

  “No,” he said, instantly alert to the ragged quality to her question. “Did he confront you again? Did he send your mum?”

  “No. I called her, but I haven’t heard back.” The ache in her words made him feel entirely too powerless. He had the overwhelming urge to hold her close in his arms, to tell her in person that it would be all right in the end. “I just...was wondering where we’re at. In the scheme of things.”

  “I have a meeting with him in two days,” he said, and could practically hear the relief in her sigh. “I can’t look overeager to wave the proof of our relationship in front of him. Mario’s clever. I have to keep him thinking he has the upper hand in all this for now.”

  “Do you want me to be there?”

  “No.” The last thing he wanted was to rub Mario’s face in it or expose Neha to the man’s temper any more than she already was. “If he asks you about us, just say that we’ve been spending more time together. Don’t go into any kind of detail about BFI or even my family. The press coverage tells him enough, sì?”

  Just as he’d expected, the media was going gaga over the two of them finally heating up the relationship. His asking Neha to join the rest of his family on the dais hadn’t been lost on the media or Neha’s fans. The only thing missing was a statement from So Sweet Inc.’s publicity team.

  “Okay, yeah. I’ve been trying to keep my meetings with my lawyer on the down low just in case he—”

  “You didn’t have to sneak out the morning after the party.” He finally gave voice to the one thing that had been bothering him.