At Dante's Service

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘I’d go easy on the punch, if I were you. I overheard a waiter telling a guest that one of the ingredients is limoncello,’ Dante murmured.

  That explained why her head had started to spin when she’d come outside into the fresh air, Rebekah thought ruefully. The Italian lemon liqueur had a high alcoholic content, but she hadn’t noticed it mixed into the fruit punch.

  ‘Well, as this is my fourth glass, I’m probably tipsy and you can have a good laugh when I make a fool of myself.’

  The moonlight threw his chiselled features into sharp relief and accentuated the sensual curve of his mouth. Rebekah hated herself for the physical pang of longing that made her tremble. She tore her gaze from him. ‘Although, actually, I don’t need alcohol to make me act stupidly,’ she said miserably.

  Dante frowned when he saw the faint quiver of her lower lip. ‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded, catching hold of her shoulder to prevent her from walking away from him. ‘Are you angry because I admitted I find you attractive?’

  It was not what Rebekah had expected him to say. She had been certain he would taunt her about her awareness of him.

  ‘I’m concerned it will make it difficult for me to carry on working for you,’ she mumbled.

  ‘I’m not a savage brute at the mercy of my hormones,’ he said drily. ‘I’m capable of controlling my libido.’ He lifted his hand and brushed her hair back from her cheek, his eyes narrowing speculatively on her flushed face. ‘Although it would help if you stopped looking at me like you’re doing at the moment.’

  Was it the sudden sensual roughness of his tone that brought Rebekah’s skin out in goose-bumps or the hard glitter in his eyes that caused the ache inside her to intensify until it consumed her?

  She bit her lip. ‘How am I looking at you?’ she whispered, and did not recognize the husky voice as her own.

  ‘Like you want me to kiss you.’ Dante gave a low laugh when she did not deny it. He stared into her incredible violet eyes, watched them darken as her pupils dilated and read the invitation she could not hide. But he also glimpsed a faint wariness that made him hesitate.

  He recognized there had been an undercurrent of sexual awareness between them for weeks, long before she had taken his breath away by wearing an evening gown that revealed her hourglass figure. But he had determinedly ignored his attraction to her—partly because he preferred not to get involved with a member of his staff, but also because he had sensed a vulnerability in her that had made her off-limits. Yesterday, at the christening party, he had glimpsed an expression in her eyes that he could not forget. He suspected that she’d had her heart broken by the guy in Wales, but if she hoped he could fill an emotional void inside her she would be disappointed. Bitter experience had taught him that life was a lot simpler without emotions to screw it up.

  But, as he’d watched her dancing tonight and noticed the attention she had received from other men, he had felt an unexpected surge of possessiveness that had prompted him to stride onto the dance floor and pull her into his arms. She had been on his mind all day and she had even disturbed his concentration while he had been in court representing a client. Now, as his gaze lingered on her soft pink lips, he could not control the rampant desire that surged through his veins.

  She must be drunk, Rebekah thought wildly, because Dante could not be looking at her with raw sexual hunger blazing in his eyes, as if he wanted to ravish her mouth with his own. Dear heaven, how she longed to be ravished. But she must be sensible. She was always sensible.

  ‘Of course I don’t want you to kiss me … Oh!’ Her tremulous denial faded away as he lowered his head and slanted his mouth over hers.

  His lips were firm and demanding, ruthlessly crushing her faint resistance with a mastery that made her tremble. He traced the shape of her mouth with his tongue before teasing her lips apart to dip between them, taking the kiss to another level that made her head spin and her body tremble.

  It was the most erotic experience of Rebekah’s life and far exceeded the fantasies she’d had of being kissed by him. She had no thought of denying him. How could she when she was utterly captivated by the smouldering sensuality of his kiss? Instead, she responded to him helplessly, parting her lips so that he could plunder their sweetness. She heard him groan and mutter something in Italian beneath his breath. He slid his hand down to the base of her spine and pulled her hard against him, and the feel of his rock-solid arousal nudging her pelvis sent molten heat flooding through her veins.

  Swept away by the sheer intensity of feelings Dante was arousing in her, she lifted her hands to his shoulders and clung to him, wishing that the magic would never end. But at last he eased the pressure of his mouth until it was a gossamer-light caress before he broke the kiss.

  Rebekah stepped back from Dante and swayed unsteadily. He frowned, remembering she had been unaware that the fruit punch she’d been drinking all evening contained alcohol. He did not believe she was drunk, and he was convinced she had known what she was doing when she had responded so ardently to him. But once again he was struck by her vulnerability and he was not comfortable with the idea that he might have taken advantage of her while she was off her guard.

  ‘I need to take you home,’ he said roughly.

  The sound of his voice should have brought Rebekah to her senses but she seemed to be in the grip of a wild madness that drove all sensible thoughts from her head. The fierce gleam in Dante’s eyes told her that the kiss they had just shared had not assuaged his desire. He wanted her, and the knowledge was empowering, liberating. For the first time since Gareth’s devastating betrayal she felt like an attractive woman instead of the grey shadow she had become.

  Perhaps the full moon suspended like a huge silver disc above them really did have mystical properties. All she knew was that tonight she wanted to take back charge of her life. For weeks she had fantasised about making love with her gorgeous, sexy boss. Why not, for one night, turn the fantasy into reality?

  ‘When we get home, do you plan to kiss me again?’ she whispered.

  The moment the words were out she was shocked that she had been so bold. Dante seemed equally surprised and his gravelly voice was thick with sexual tension.

  ‘Do you want me to?’

  She stared at his hard-boned, beautiful face and her heart thundered.

  ‘Yes.’

  Dante caught his breath as desire jack-knifed through him at Rebekah’s unguarded reply. He had told himself he must end this madness, but his chef, who he had thought of as prim and a little prudish, was excitingly unpredictable. She knew as well as he did that if he kissed her again the fire smouldering between them would ignite.

  But, although Dante could not deny that he had earned his playboy reputation, he had a strict moral code of conduct. He always made it clear to the women he dated that sex was all he wanted, and he never slept with a woman if she did not accept his rules.

  Did Rebekah even know the rules? he wondered. Before they went any further he needed to be certain she knew he would never want a long-term relationship.

  ‘You are full of surprises tonight, piccola,’ he murmured. ‘It makes me wonder how much limoncello was in the fruit punch.’

  Rebekah bit her lip. Perhaps Dante was trying to be gentlemanly by suggesting that she was drunk and therefore not in full control of herself. His tone had been faintly condescending when he had called her piccola, which she knew meant ‘little one’ in Italian. But she was not an innocent girl. She was a mature woman who knew her own mind, and it was about time he understood that fact.

  She stepped closer to him and tilted her head to meet his glittering gaze. ‘I don’t think the punch contained much alcohol. I’m perfectly aware of what I’m saying … and doing,’ she assured him huskily, and leaned forwards to press her mouth against his.

  Her heart jolted when she felt his body’s immediate response. He allowed her to lead the kiss for a couple of seconds before he groaned and wrapped his arms around her, exerting his domi
nance by plundering her mouth with savage passion that left them both breathless.

  ‘In that case, let’s go home, mia bella,’ he said tautly, and took his phone from his jacket to call his driver.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE Bentley was waiting outside for them with the chauffeur holding the door open. Dante slid onto the back seat and held out his hand to assist Rebekah. No doubt his sophisticated mistresses were experts at climbing elegantly into cars, she thought ruefully, but her high heels somehow got tangled in her long skirt so that she tripped and landed practically in his lap.

  ‘Steady,’ he said with a soft laugh, as though he thought she was so eager to be in his arms that she’d deliberately thrown herself on top of him.

  Flushing hotly, she tried to edge away, but he pulled her against him and claimed her mouth in a sensual kiss that left her breathless and trembling when he finally lifted his head. She felt a strange sense of unreality. Dante had dominated her thoughts from the day she had met him, and she could hardly believe she was in his arms and he was trailing a line of kisses down her neck to capture the pulse beating erratically at its base.

  She had imagined moments like this so often, and had indulged in erotic daydreams that Dante was running his hands over her body. But now she discovered that the reality was so much better than any daydream. As the car threaded through the busy London streets it felt as though they were cocooned in their own private world. Outside was noise and bright neon lights. But inside the car the sexually charged silence was only broken by her soft gasp when he lowered his head to her breasts.

  ‘You have driven me mad all night,’ he growled in a gravelly voice that sent a little shiver of anticipation through her. ‘You were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight and every man had his eyes on you.’

  Rebekah knew that was untrue and she was about to tell him that he did not need to win her over with false flattery, but she was distracted when he slid the strap of her dress over her shoulder and drew the fragile silk down until he had bared her breast. His harsh groan of feral hunger evoked a flood of heat in her pelvis. With a little spurt of shock, she realised he wasn’t playing a game or teasing her. His desire for her was real and urgent, and the hard glitter in his eyes warned her that he was serious about his intention to make love to her.

  Her heart leapt into her throat. She knew the driver could not see them through the privacy screen but she felt exposed when she glanced down and saw her pale breast and the darker skin of her nipple. She caught her breath when Dante cupped the soft mound of flesh in his palm and lightly flicked his thumb pad over her nipple until it felt hot and tight and she longed for him to caress her with his mouth. Never before had she felt such an intensity of need, and she could not restrain a choked cry of disappointment when he drew her dress back into place.

  ‘We’re home,’ Dante told her softly. He found her eagerness such a turn-on. She looked unbelievably sexy with her long silky brown hair tumbling over her shoulders and her lips slightly parted and moistly inviting. The ache in his groin was building to a fierce throb of sexual need that clamoured to be assuaged. If they did not get out of the car right now he was in danger of making a fool of himself, he thought derisively.

  As Rebekah followed Dante up the front steps of the house her heart thudded painfully beneath her ribs. The cool night air on her heated skin had restored a little of her common sense and made her question what she was doing. She had never had a one-night stand in her life, and she had only ever slept with Gareth. Didn’t that just sum up her life, she thought wryly. She was twenty-eight and had been single for two years, but she could write about her sexual experiences on the back of a postage stamp.

  What if Dante found her inexperience a disappointment? Or what if he compared her curvy hips and unfashionably big breasts with the super-slim supermodels that she knew were his usual choice of women?

  Maybe it would be better to stop this now, before she faced the humiliating possibility of being rejected by him. Maybe it would be safer to keep her fantasies intact and tell him she had changed her mind.

  He opened the door and stood back to allow her to precede him into the hall. In front of her the stairs led to the second floor and his bedroom. She wondered how many other women had shared his bed, and she felt another pang of uncertainty.

  Through an open door she could see the sitting room lamps had been activated by the timer so that the room was bathed in soft gold light. She spun round to face him, and thought with a touch of despair that he had never looked more gorgeous than he did right now. His white shirt was made of such fine silk that she could see the shadow of his dark chest hairs, and when she lowered her gaze the visible evidence of his arousal beneath his trousers evoked a fierce coiling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  She licked her dry lips. ‘Dante … I …’

  ‘Come here, mia bellezza,’ he said roughly.

  The husky Italian words shattered her fragile defences. She knew that although he had been educated in England, Italian was his first language and he often reverted to it when he was angry. But it was not anger that lent his gaze a silvery gleam. Desire blazed in his eyes. He was looking at her in a way that made her knees feel weak, and when he pulled her into his arms she clung to him and tilted her head for him to capture her mouth in a kiss that made her forget all her doubts.

  She had never been kissed like this; never experienced such magic as Dante was creating as he slanted his mouth over hers and took without mercy—demanding, hungry kisses that were utterly irresistible.

  She fell back against the wall and wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed himself against her so that she was conscious of every muscle and sinew of his hard body. She felt the solid ridge of his erection nudge between her thighs, and the realisation that he was fiercely aroused increased her excitement. She might not be tall, skinny and blonde, but Dante did not seem to mind as he roamed his hands over her, exploring her contours with unashamed delight. He groaned his approval when he clasped the rounded cheeks of her bottom.

  ‘Dio, you are driving me insane. I need you now, cara. I can’t wait.’

  Dante could not remember the last time he had felt so out of control. He lifted his mouth from Rebekah’s and dragged oxygen into his lungs. How had he not realised how beautiful she was? he wondered as he stared at her rose-flushed face and her violet eyes fringed by long dark lashes. Her lips were reddened and slightly parted, inviting him to kiss her again and, when he did, she responded to him with such unrestrained eagerness that his last vestige of restraint shattered.

  His bedroom was too far away. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he steered her into the sitting room. He slid his hand beneath her long hair and found her zip. Deftly he ran it down her spine and peeled her dress over her breasts and hips so that it slithered to the floor. The big dark pink discs of her nipples contrasted with the creamy skin of her breasts and he could not resist touching them, stroking them until they hardened into tight buds.

  ‘Rebekah, you have a fantastic body. You are perfection, mia bella.’

  His words, spoken in that hoarse, sexy growl, allayed the self-doubt that had swamped Rebekah when Dante had undressed her. She had felt painfully exposed when he had studied her body in the light from the table lamp that was not nearly as dim as she would have liked. It felt shockingly decadent to be practically naked in the sitting room. She had only ever made love with Gareth in his bedroom at his farm, always in the dark, and they’d had to be careful not to make any noise because his mother’s bedroom was next door.

  She had never felt very confident about her body. Her breasts were too voluptuous, her hips too curvy and her bottom was too big. But Dante had said she was perfection, and the hot, hungry gleam in his eyes as he caressed her told her that he meant it.

  ‘It doesn’t seem fair that you’re dressed and I’m not,’ she murmured. Her voice emerged as a husky whisper because her heart was pounding so hard that she couldn’t breathe properly.


  He gave her a wicked smile. ‘Strip me, then,’ he said, spreading his arms wide so that she had free access to his body. ‘I’m all yours, Rebekah.’

  She felt a little pang inside, knowing that he would never be hers. It would take a very special woman to persuade Dante to give up his playboy lifestyle, and perhaps no woman ever would. She knew that all he wanted from her was sex, and that was all she wanted too, she reminded herself. Dante made her feel like an attractive, sexy woman and she needed this one night with him to restore her faith in her feminine allure.

  But, although she was sure of her decision, her hands shook as she tugged his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and started to undo the buttons. When she reached the top one, she slid the shirt over his shoulders and stared at his broad chest and his satiny olive skin covered in whirls of silky black hairs. He had said her body was perfection, but the hard ridges of his pectoral and abdominal muscles could have been sculpted by an artist.

  Her eyes followed the mass of dark hairs lower to where they arrowed beneath his waistband. He had invited her to strip him, but did she have the nerve to slide his zip down and touch the prominent bulge that was straining against his trousers?

  ‘Do you have any idea how much you’re turning me on just by looking at me?’ Dante demanded raggedly. ‘For pity’s sake, cara, touch me.’

  Rebekah obeyed him, hesitantly at first, as she skimmed her fingertips over his chest, but growing bolder as she explored each ridge of muscle with a dedication that made him groan. It was intoxicating to roam her hands freely over his naked torso. His skin was warm and golden, and he smelled of soap and sandal-wood cologne and another subtly masculine scent that tantalised her senses. She had never been as intensely aware of the beauty of the male form and, acting purely on instinct, she pressed her lips to his chest, over the place where she could feel the hard thud of his heart.

  He growled something in Italian as he reached for his fly and yanked it open. ‘Let me help you,’ he muttered, as he pulled off the rest of his clothes.