‘E capelli tuoi so comme a seta,’ he said, and when she looked at him in confusion, he translated. ‘Your hair is like silk.’
It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her and when she heard it in Italian it made her want to melt. Was that why he did it, knowing it would push her a little further beneath his powerful spell? Molly told herself to move away. She should thank him for the drink, for his kindness and for giving her his card and then hurry back to her little room to mull over her memories and hug them to her like a hot-water bottle. But she didn’t move. She just carried on gazing up into the rugged perfection of his looks, praying he would kiss her and make the fairy tale complete—even if that was all she was ever going to have to remember him by. ‘Is—is it?’ she questioned.
Salvio smiled, letting his thumb drift from the fire-warmed strands, to hover over the unmistakable tremble of her lips. He felt a tightness in his throat as he realised what he was about to do. He had invited her here because he sensed she was lonely and unhappy—not because he intended to seduce her. Because there were rules and usually he followed them. He no longer took physical comfort just because it was available—because it was pretty much always available to a man like him. Just as he no longer used sex to blot out his pain, or his anger.
But the little housekeeper had touched a part of him he’d thought had died a long time ago. She had stirred a compassion in his soul and now she was stirring his body in a way which was all too obvious, if only to him. He could feel the aching hardness at his groin, but the urge to kiss her was even more overwhelming than the need to bury himself deep inside her body. He told himself he should resist—gently shoo her out of the door and send her on her way. And maybe he would have done—had she not chosen that moment to expel a shaky breath of air, the warmth of it shuddering softly against his thumb.
How could something as insignificant as a breath be so potent? he marvelled as he stared down into her wide grey eyes. ‘I want to kiss you,’ he said softly. ‘But if that happens I will want to make love to you and I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Do you understand what I’m saying, Molly?’
Wordlessly, she nodded.
‘And the only thing which will stop me, is you,’ he continued, his voice a deep silken purr. ‘So stop me, Molly. Turn away and walk out right now and do us both a favour, because something tells me this is a bad idea.’
He was giving her the opportunity to leave but Molly knew she wasn’t going to take it—because when did things like this ever happen to people like her? She wasn’t like most women her age. She’d never had sex. Never come even close, despite her few forays onto a dating website, which had all ended in disaster. Yet now a man she barely knew was proposing seduction and suddenly she was up for it, and she didn’t care if it was bad. Hadn’t she spent her whole life trying to be good? And where had it got her?
Her heart was crashing against her ribcage as she stared up into his rugged features and greedily drank them in. ‘I don’t care if it’s a bad idea,’ she whispered. ‘Maybe I want it as much as you do.’
Her response made him tense. She saw his eyes narrow and heard him utter something which sounded more like despair than joy before pulling her almost roughly into his arms. He smoothed the hair away from her cheeks and lowered his head and the moment their lips met, she knew there would be no turning back.
At first his kiss was slow. As if he was exploring her mouth by touch alone. And just when she was starting to get used to the sheer dreaminess of it, it became hard. Urgent. It fuelled the hunger which was building inside her. He levered her up against him, so that her breasts were thrusting eagerly against his torso and she could feel the rock-hard cradle of his pelvis. She should have been daunted by the unmistakable bulk of his erection but she wasn’t, because her hungry senses were controlling her now and she didn’t feel like good, rule-following Molly any more. She felt like wanton Molly—a victim of her own desire.
And it felt good.
More than good.
His laugh was unsteady as he splayed his fingers over one of her breasts, the nipple instantly hardening against his palm. ‘You are very passionate,’ he murmured.
Molly gave a small gurgle of pleasure as he found the side zip of her dress because suddenly she felt passionate. As if she had been waiting all her life to feel this way. ‘Am I?’
‘I don’t think you need any reassurance on that score, bedda mia.’
He was wrong, of course—but he wasn’t to know that and Molly certainly wasn’t going to tell him. She felt breathless as he peeled the plain black dress away from her body and let it fall to the ground before stepping back to survey her. And wasn’t it funny how a look of admiration in a man’s eyes could be powerful enough to dispel all a woman’s instinctive insecurities? Because for once Molly wasn’t thinking that her tummy was too plump or her breasts unfashionably massive. Or even that her bra didn’t match her rather functional pants. Instead she was revelling in the look of naked hunger which made his eyes resemble black fire as they blazed over her.
And then he picked her up. Picked her up! She could hardly believe it. He was carrying chunky Molly Miller towards the bed as if she weighed no more than a balloon at a child’s birthday party, before whipping back the brand-new duvet she’d purchased that very morning and depositing her beneath it. It was the most delicious sensation in the world, sinking into the mattress and lying beneath the warmth of the bedding, her body sizzling with a growing excitement—while Salvio De Gennaro began to undress. She swallowed, completely hypnotised as she watched him. The shoes and socks were first to go and then he unbuttoned his shirt, baring his magnificent chest before turning his attention to the zip of his trousers. But when he hooked his thumb inside the waistband of his boxers, Molly squeezed her eyes tightly closed.
‘No. Not like that. Open your eyes. Look at me,’ he instructed softly and she was too much in thrall to disobey him.
Molly swallowed. She couldn’t deny that it was slightly daunting to see just how aroused he was and as she bit her lip, he smiled.
‘Me fai asci pazzo,’ he said, as if that explained everything.
‘Wh-what does that mean?’
‘It means you make me crazy.’
‘I love it when you talk Italian to me,’ she said shyly.
‘Not Italian,’ he said sternly as he slipped into bed beside her. ‘Neapolitan.’
She blinked. ‘It’s different?’
‘It’s dialect,’ he said and she noticed he was placing several foil packets on the antique chest of drawers beside the bed. ‘And yes, it’s very different.’
The appearance of condoms somehow punctured some of the romance, but by then he was naked beside her and Molly was discovering that the sensation of skin touching skin was like nothing she’d ever known. It was heaven. Better than chocolate cake. Better than...well, anything really.
‘Salvio,’ she breathed, trying out his name for the first time.
‘Sì, bedda mia? Want me to kiss you again?’
‘Yes, please,’ she said fervently, and he laughed.
His kisses were deep. It felt as if he were drugging her with them, making her body receptive to the caress of his fingers. And, oh, those fingers—what magic they worked as he tiptoed them over her shivering flesh. He massaged her peaking nipples until she was writhing with pleasure, and when he slid his hand between her thighs and discovered how wet she was, he had to silence her instinctive gasp with another kiss.
And because she didn’t want to be passive, Molly stroked him back. At first she was cautious—concentrating on his chest and ribcage, before daring to explore a belly which was far flatter than her own. But when she plucked up the courage to touch the unfamiliar hardness which kept brushing against her quivering thigh, he stopped her with a stern look. ‘No.’
She didn’t ask him why. She didn’t dare. She was afraid of doi
ng anything which would shatter the mood or show how inexperienced she really was. Which might make Salvio De Gennaro bolt upright in bed and incredulously question what the hell he was doing, being intimate with a humble housekeeper. But he didn’t. In fact, he seemed just as in tune with her body as she was with his. Like greedy animals, they rolled uninhibitedly around on the bed, biting and nipping and stroking and moaning and there was only the briefest hiatus when Salvio reached for one of the foil packets.
‘Want to put this on for me?’ he questioned provocatively. ‘Since my hands are shaking so much I’m beginning to wonder if I can manage to do it myself.’
Some of Molly’s composure left her. Should she say something?
Salvio, I’ve only ever seen a condom in a biology class at school. I’ve never actually used one for real.
Mightn’t learning that send him hurtling out of bed in horror? Yes, he might be as aroused as she imagined any man could be, but even so...mightn’t it be a bit heavy if she burdened him with a piece of knowledge which wasn’t really relevant? After all, it wasn’t as if she was expecting this...interlude to actually go anywhere.
And maybe he read her thoughts because he brought his face up close to hers and surveyed her with smoky eyes. ‘You know that I—’
‘Yes, I know. You’re leaving in the morning,’ she said. ‘And that’s okay.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Quite sure. I just want...’
‘What do you want, Molly?’ he questioned, almost gently.
‘I just want tonight,’ she breathed. ‘That’s all.’
Salvio frowned as he stroked on a condom. Was she for real, or just too good to be true? He kissed her again, wanting to explode with hunger but forcing himself to move as slowly as possible as he pushed inside her molten heat, because he was big. He’d been told that often enough in the past but he had never felt bigger than he did tonight.
But size had nothing to do with her next reaction. The tensing of her body and her brief grimace of pain told their own unbelievable story. Confusion swirled his thoughts and made him momentarily still. With an almighty effort he prepared to withdraw, but somehow her tight muscles clamped themselves around him in a way which was shockingly new and exciting, making him dangerously close to coming straight away. He sucked in a raw breath, trying desperately to claw back control. Trying to concentrate on not giving in to his orgasm, rather than on the unbelievable fact that the housekeeper was a virgin. Or rather, she had been.
But stopping himself from coming was the hardest sexual test he’d ever set himself. Maybe it was her tightness which felt so delicious. Or the uninhibited way she was responding to him. She was a stranger to all the games usually played in the bedroom, he realised—and her naivety made her an unmatchable lover, because she was a natural. She hadn’t learnt any tricks or manoeuvres. The things she was doing she hadn’t done with any other man before and somehow that turned him on. He revelled in the way she squirmed those fleshy hips as he drove into her. The way she thrust her breast towards his lips, so that he could tease the pointing nipple with first his tongue and then his teeth. He sensed the change in her—the moment when her orgasm became inevitable—and he watched her closely, seeing her dark eyelashes flutter to a close. Triumph washed over him as she made that first disbelieving choke of pleasure and a rosy flush began to blossom over her breasts. And only when the last of her violent spasms had died away did he give in to his own need, unprepared for the power of what was happening to him. It felt like the first time, he thought dazedly. Or maybe the only time.
And then he fell asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS STILL dark when Salvio awoke next morning—the illuminated dial of his wristwatch informing him it was just past six. He waited a moment until his eyes became adjusted to the shadows in the bedroom. In the heat of that frantic sexual encounter which had taken him almost by surprise last night, he hadn’t bothered to close the drapes and outside it was still dark—but then, sunrise came late to this part of the world in the depths of an English winter.
He glanced across at the sleeping woman beside him, sucking in a slow lungful of air as he tried to get his head around what had happened. Trying to justify the fact that he’d had sex with the innocent housekeeper, when deep down he knew there could be no justification. Yet she had wanted it, he reminded himself grimly. She had wanted it as much as him.
They had been intimate again during the night—several times, as it happened. His stretching leg had encountered the voluptuous softness of her warm flesh, making him instantly aroused. There had been a stack of questions he’d been meaning to ask, but somehow her touch had wiped them from his mind. The second time had been amazing—and so had the third. She was so easy to please. So grateful for the pleasure he gave her. He’d expected her to start bringing up tricky topics after orgasm number five, but his expectations hadn’t materialised. She hadn’t demanded to know if he had changed his mind about seeing her again, which was fortunate really, because he hadn’t. His eyes narrowed. He couldn’t. She was too sweet. Too naïve. She wouldn’t last a minute in his world and his own cynical nature would destroy all that naïve enthusiasm of hers in an instant.
Leaning over, he shook her bare shoulder—resisting the desire to slip his hand beneath the duvet and begin massaging one of those magnificent breasts.
‘Molly,’ he murmured. ‘Wake up. It’s morning.’
It was a shock for Molly to open her eyes and realise she was staring up at the magnificent chandelier which hung from the ceiling of the guest bedroom. In this faint light it twinkled like the fading stars outside the window and she forced herself to remember that in several hours’ time she would be attacking it with her feather duster, not lying beneath the priceless shards of crystal, with the warm body of a naked man beside her.
A shiver ran through her as she turned her head to look at Salvio, her heart punching out a violent beat as she realised what she’d done. She swallowed. What hadn’t she done? She had let him undress her and explore every inch of her body, with his tongue and his fingers and a whole lot more beside. When he’d been deep inside her body, she had choked out his name over and over again as he had awoken an appetite she hadn’t realised she possessed. Somehow he had waved a magic wand and turned her into someone she didn’t really recognise and she had gone from being inexperienced Molly Miller, to an eager woman who couldn’t get enough of him. Briefly she closed her eyes.
And she wasn’t going to regret a single second of it. Because you couldn’t turn the clock back—and even if you could, who would want to?
She yawned, stretching her arms above her head and registering the unfamiliar aching of her body. How many times had he made love to her? she wondered dazedly, as she recalled his seemingly insatiable appetite and her own eager response.
She forced herself to ask the question she didn’t really want to ask. ‘What time is it?’
‘Just after six.’ There was a pause. His eyes became hooded. ‘Molly—’
‘Well, you’d better get going, hadn’t you?’ Her breezy interjection forestalled him because she’d guessed what he was about to say—the heaviness of his tone warning her that this was the Big Goodbye. And he didn’t need to. He had to go and she was okay with that. Why ruin everything by demanding more than he’d ever intended to give? She pinned an efficient smile to her lips. ‘You did say you wanted to get away early.’
He frowned, as if her response wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but Molly knew there was only one way to deal with a situation like this, and that was by being sensible, the way she’d been all her life. She had to face facts, not mould them to suit her fantasies. She knew there could be no future between her and the billionaire tycoon because their lives were too different. Last night the boundaries had become blurred—but one night of bliss didn’t change the fundamentals, did it? She was employed as a housekeeper—and
lying in an honoured guest’s bed was the very last place she should be.
‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ he growled.
She wondered where the rogue thought came from. The one which made her want to say, Not really, no. I wish you could take me with you wherever you’re going and make love to me the way you did last night.
But fortunately, the practical side of her character was the dominant one. As if Salvio De Gennaro would want to take her away with him! She tried to imagine cramming herself into that low-slung sports car—why, her weight would probably disable the suspension! ‘Why wouldn’t I be okay?’ she questioned breezily. ‘It was great. At least, I think it was.’ For the first time, a trace of insecurity crept into her voice as she looked at him with a question in her eyes.
‘Oh, it was more than “great”,’ he affirmed, reaching out to trace the tip of his finger over the quiver of her bottom lip. ‘In fact, it was so good that I want to do it all over again.’
Once again Molly felt her stomach clench with desire and a rush of heat tugged deep inside her. ‘But...’ she whispered as he moved closer.
‘But what, mia bedda?’
‘There isn’t...’ She swallowed. ‘There isn’t time.’
‘Says who?’
He slipped his hand between her legs. Molly wondered what had happened to the sensible part of her now. Forgotten, that was what. Banished by the first lazy stroke of his finger over her slick heat. ‘Salvio,’ she moaned, as his dark head moved down and his tongue found her nipple.
He lifted his head from her breast, dark eyes gleaming in the half-light. ‘You want me to stop?’
‘You know I don’t,’ she gasped.
‘So why don’t you show me what you would like?’
Maybe it was the knowledge that this was the last time which made her so adventurous, because Molly suddenly found her hand drifting over his taut belly to capture the rocky erection which was pressing so insistently against her thigh. ‘This,’ she said shakily. ‘This is what I want.’
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