by Abby Green
She cringed inwardly. He didn’t have to pursue the discussion. He’d guessed her secret. She lifted her glass too, but said nothing. She got the distinct impression that he still wasn’t put off. And, as much as she’d like to tell Alix that flying in a plane was the only new experience she was interested in sharing with him, she couldn’t formulate the words. Traitorously.
* * *
‘Why is everyone looking at us?’
Alix looked at Leila incredulously. She had no idea what a sensation she was causing—had caused as soon as they’d stepped from his boat and into the ancient palazzo on the Grand Canal where the opera was being staged. Leila stood out effortlessly—like a jewel amongst much duller stones. Now it was the interval, and they were seated in a private area to the right of the stage. Private, yet visible.
His mouth quirked. ‘They’re not looking at us—they’re looking at you.’
She looked at him and blushed. ‘Oh...it’s the clothes, isn’t it? I should have—’
Alix shook his head, cutting her off. ‘It’s not the clothes...well, it is. But that’s because you are more beautiful than any other woman here and you’re putting them to shame with your sense of style. Every woman is looking at you and wondering why their finger is not on the pulse.’
Leila’s blush deepened, and it had a direct effect on Alix’s arousal levels.
‘I’m sure that’s not it at all. I’ve never seen so many beautiful people in one place in my entire life. I’ve never seen anywhere so breathtaking—the canal, this palazzo...’ She ducked her head for a moment before looking back at him. ‘Thank you...this evening has been magical.’
Alix had to school his features. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had thanked him for taking her out.
‘You’re glad you overcame your reluctance to spend time with me?’ he queried innocently.
Her green gaze held his and Alix felt breathless for a second. Crazy. Women didn’t make him breathless.
Her mouth twitched minutely. ‘Yes, I’m glad—but don’t let it go to your head.’
An unfortunate choice of words when it made him aware of the part of his anatomy that refused to obey his efforts to control it.
Leila looked so incandescent in that moment—a small smile playing around her mouth, eyes sparkling—that Alix had to curl his hands into fists to stop himself from kissing her again.
The lights dimmed and the cast resumed their places. Alix tore his gaze from her, questioning his sanity and praying that he’d have enough control not to ravish her like a wild animal in the darkened surroundings.
* * *
After the opera had finished Alix took Leila out of the palazzo and along the Grand Canal in his boat, to a small rustic Italian restaurant where he was greeted like an old friend by the owner. They ate a selection of small starters and drank wine, and to Leila’s surprise the conversation flowed as easily as if they’d known each other for months, not days.
Something had happened—either as soon as she’d agreed to this date or on the plane, when events had become a dizzying spectacle. Or maybe it had been when she’d chosen a different perfume for herself...
She’d stepped over a line—irrevocably. She felt as if she was a different person, inhabiting the same skin. As if she’d thrown off some kind of shackle holding her to the past. She was a little drunk. She knew that. But she’d never felt so light, so...effervescent. So open to new possibilities, experiences.
She wasn’t naive enough to think that it would be anything more than transient. Especially with a man like Alix. And that was okay. If anything it was a form of protection. He was practically emblazoned with Warning! And Hazardous! signs.
She must have giggled a little, because Alix said dryly, ‘Something I said was funny?’
Leila shook her head and looked at him, all of a sudden stone-cold sober again. He was beautiful. Their mingled scents wrapped around her. Leila imagined them curling around her brain’s synapses, rendering them weak. Making her want what he was offering with those slate-grey eyes—hot with a decadent promise she could only imagine.
Leila realised with a sense of desperation that she wanted whatever he was offering. She wanted to lose herself and be broken apart. She wanted to know what it was like. She wanted to taste the forbidden.
She didn’t want to go back to her small poky apartment above her failing shop and be the same person. Looking at life passing by across the square. She wanted life to be happening to her. She’d never felt it this strongly before. It was his persistent seduction, the perfume, the wine, the opera...leaving her country for the first time. It was his kiss. It was him.
Impetuously she leaned forward. ‘Do we have to go back to Paris tonight?’
Immediately his gaze narrowed on her. She was acutely conscious of the fact that his jacket and bow tie were gone and his shirt was open at the throat, revealing the strong bronzed column of his neck.
‘What are you suggesting?’
Feeling bold for the first time in her life, Leila said, ‘I’m suggesting...not going back to Paris. Staying here...in Venice.’
‘For the night?’
She nodded. The enormity of what she was doing was dizzying, but she couldn’t turn back now. Her heart was thumping.
Alix cocked his head slightly. ‘I think you might be a little drunk, Miss Verughese.’
‘Perhaps,’ she agreed huskily. ‘But I know what I’m saying.’
‘Do you now...?’ Alix looked at her consideringly.
For a second something cold touched Leila’s spine. Maybe she had this all wrong. Maybe Alix was just toying with this gauche girl from a shop until a more suitable woman came along? No doubt he was getting a kick out of her untutored reactions to flying and seeing the opera.
And now this... Maybe the thought of bedding a virgin wasn’t palatable to a man of his undoubted experience and sophisticated tastes? She thought of how that woman had undressed in front of him and her insides contracted painfully. She could never do that.
She looked away, searching for her bag and wrap. ‘Forget I said anything. I’m sure you have meetings—’
Suddenly her hand was clasped in his and reluctantly she looked at him. He was intense.
‘Are you saying you want to stay in Venice for the night to share my bed, Leila?’
She hated it that he was making her spell it out, but she lifted her chin and said, ‘If you’re not interested—’
His hand tightened on hers. ‘Oh, I’m interested. I just want to make sure you’re not going to regret this in the morning and blame it on too much wine.’
Leila stared back, suppressing an urge to say I’m blaming it on much more than that. He wouldn’t understand. ‘I want this—even if it’s just one night.’
Alix interlaced his fingers with hers. It felt like a shockingly intimate caress.
‘It won’t be one night, Leila, I can guarantee that.’
She shivered lightly. The way he said that sounded like a vow. Or a promise.
‘Signor Alix...?’
He didn’t even look at his friend. He just said, ‘We’re finished, Giorgio, thank you.’
But it was a long moment before Alix broke his gaze from hers and let go of her hand to stand up.
Leila couldn’t remember much of leaving the restaurant, or of the boat ride along the magical Grand Canal at night. She was only aware of Alix’s strong thighs beside hers on the seat, his arm tight around her shoulders, his hand resting disturbingly close to the curve of her breast.
She was only aware that she was finally leaving a part of her life behind and stepping into the unknown.
She couldn’t believe she’d been so forward, and yet she knew that even if given a choice she wouldn’t turn back now. This man had unlocked some deep secret part of her and she wanted to explore it. She didn’t care about the fact that Alix Saint Croix was famous or rich or royalty. She was interested in the man. He called to her on a very basic level that no one had ever to
uched before.
And as the boat scythed through the choppy waters she reassured herself that she was going into this with eyes wide open. No romantic illusions. She was not starry-eyed any more. Pierre had seen to that when she’d let him woo her. That had been just after the death of her mother, when she’d been at her most vulnerable. She wasn’t vulnerable any more. And Leila had no intention of shutting herself away like a nun for the rest of her life.
They were approaching a building now—another grand palazzo. A man stood on the small landing dock and threw a rope to the driver. They came alongside the wooden jetty and Alix jumped nimbly out of the boat before turning back to lift Leila out as easily as if she weighed nothing.
As he let her down on the jetty he kept her close to his body, and her eyes widened when she felt her belly brush against a very hard part of him. Her pulse quickened and between her legs she felt damp.
Then he turned, and held her hand as he strode through the open doors. Leila had to almost run to keep up and she tugged at his hand. He looked back, something stark etched onto his face. She refused to let it intimidate her.
‘What is this place?’
‘It belongs to a friend—he’s away.’
‘Oh...’
A petite older woman dressed in black approached them and Alix exchanged some words with her in fluent Italian. It was only then that Leila looked around and took in the grandeur of the reception hall. The floor was marble, and there were massive stone columns stretching all the way up to a ceiling that was covered in very old-looking frescoes.
Then Alix was tugging her hand again and they were following the woman up the main staircase. The eyes from numerous huge stern portraits followed their progress and Leila superstitiously avoided looking at them, sensing a judgment she wasn’t really blasé enough to ignore in spite of her bravado.
The corridor they walked into had thick carpet, muffling their footsteps. Massive ornate wooden doors were closed on each side. At the end of the corridor the woman came to some double doors and opened them wide, standing aside so they could go in.
Leila’s breath stopped. It was the most stunningly sumptuous suite of rooms she’d ever seen. She let go of Alix’s hand and walked over to where the glass French doors were open, leading out to a stone balcony overlooking a smaller canal.
She heard the door close softly and looked behind her to see Alix standing in the centre of the room, hands in his pockets, legs wide. Chest broad.
He took a hand out of his pocket and held it out. Silently Leila went to him, kicking off her sandals as she did so.
When she got to Alix, he drew her chiffon wrap off her shoulders and it drifted to the floor beside them. Then he reached around to the back of her head and removed the pin holding her hair up. It fell around her shoulders in a heavy silken curtain and he ran his hand through the strands.
‘I wanted to do this the moment I saw you,’ he said.
Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she blurted out, ‘Did you really not sleep with that woman after you pulled the curtains that night?’
His grey gaze bored into hers. ‘No, I did not sleep with Carmen that night. I wouldn’t lie to you about that, Leila.’
She found that she believed him, but she still had to battle the insidious suspicion that he would say whatever he wanted to get her into bed. Not that he’d had to say much—she’d all but begged him!
Furiously she blocked out the raising clamour of voices and reached up, touching her mouth to his. ‘Take me to bed, Alix,’ she whispered.
CHAPTER FIVE
AGAINST THE MUTED lighting of the opulent suite Alix looked every inch the powerful man he was. He took up so much space, and a sudden flutter of fear clutched at Leila’s belly. Could she really handle a man like this?
But then he took her hand and led her into another room. The bedroom.
Its furnishings were ridiculously, gloriously lush. A four-poster, canopied bed stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by thick velvet drapes held back by decorative rings. Through the windows Leila could see the Grand Canal, and boats moving up and down. The curtains fluttered in the breeze and yet she was hot. Burning up.
Alix came and stood in front of her. Leila was at eye level with the middle of his chest. Never more than now had she been so aware of his sheer masculinity and strength. She wished she had the nerve to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t. The boldness that had led her here seemed to be fleeing in the face of the stark reality facing her.
Alix tipped up her chin with a curled forefinger and Leila couldn’t escape his gaze.
‘We’ll take this slow.’
Leila swallowed. So much for trying to repel him with her inexperience. His eyes burned. And something melted inside her at his consideration. He pulled her forward then, until her breasts were touching his body, her nipples tightening in reaction. Both his hands went to her jaw, caressing the delicate bone structure before tilting her face upwards. And then his head dipped and his mouth was over hers.
Leila made a soft sound in the back of her throat. His tongue explored along the seam of her mouth until she opened up to him, and then he was stroking her tongue intimately, teeth nipping at her full lower lip. Her hands curled into his shirt, clutching. He was all hard muscle and heat and he tasted of wine.
When Alix drew back after long, drugging moments, Leila followed him, opening her eyes slowly, all her senses colliding and melting into one throbbing beat of desire. She’d never imagined it could be like this. After just a kiss.
Alix brought his hands to the small buttons running down the front of her tunic. His skin was dark against the silk and Leila watched as slowly the front of her tunic fell open to reveal her lacy bra underneath.
‘So beautiful...’ breathed Alix as he saw her breasts revealed, more voluptuous than Leila had ever been comfortable with.
He slid a hand inside her tunic and cupped one, testing its shape, its firm weight. The effect on her body was so intensely pleasurable that Leila was too embarrassed to look at Alix. She ducked her head forward and her hair slipped over her shoulders, the ends touching his hand.
She gave a little gasp when Alix’s other hand caught her hair at the back of her head and tugged gently. His fingers were squeezing her breast now, and her nipple was pinched tight with need. Leila wanted something but she wasn’t sure what. More.
When he bent to take her mouth again she whimpered. And then his hand was pulling down the silk cup of her bra and he was palming her naked breast, fingers trapping her nipple, squeezing gently.
Alix’s kiss was rougher than before, but Leila met it full-on, already feeling more confident, sucking his tongue deep, nipping his mouth. He was pushing her bra up now, over her breasts, freeing them. Pulling the top part of her tunic wide open.
When he eventually broke the kiss he was breathing harshly, eyes glittering like molten mercury.
There was something raw in his expression that made excitement mixed with sheer terror spike inside Leila. Alix moved back, tugging her with him, until he sat down on the edge of the massive bed.
Leila’s breasts were exposed—framed by her pushed-up bra and the tunic. She should have felt self-conscious, but she didn’t. Alix’s gaze rested there and then he cupped one breast and brought his mouth to it, teasing the hard tip with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth and suckling.
Leila thought she might die. Right there and then. She’d never experienced anything so decadent, so delicious, as this hot, sucking heat. When he administered the same attention to her other breast her legs buckled and she landed on Alix’s lap, his mouth and tongue lapping at her engorged flesh, making her squirm and writhe as a coil of tension wound higher and higher between her legs.
He broke away suddenly, his voice gruff. ‘I need to see you.’
He carefully stood Leila up again and she felt momentarily dizzy, holding on to his arm to steady herself. He stood in front of her and slowly started to peel her tunic up and over her he
ad. After a moment’s hesitation Leila lifted her arms and it came all the way off, landing on the floor at their feet.
Then Alix deftly removed her twisted bra, and that disappeared too. Now she was naked apart from her trousers and underwear.
He was looking at her, eyes dark and unreadable. His hands were tracing her contours as reverently as if she was a piece of sculpted marble.
‘I want to see you too.’ Leila heard the words coming from her mouth and wasn’t even aware of thinking them. Dangerous.
He dropped his hands and stood before her, silently inviting her to undress him. Leila lifted her hands to his shirt and slowly undid his buttons, his shirt falling open as she moved down his massive chest.
When she got to where his shirt was tucked into his trousers she hesitated for a moment, before pulling it free and undoing the last buttons. Soon it was open completely, and she pushed it wide open and off his shoulders. Alix opened his cufflinks, and then the shirt slid off completely.
Leila was in awe. The sleek strength of his muscles under the dark olive skin was fascinating to her. There was a little hair around his pectorals and a dark line down through his muscle-packed abdomen, disappearing enticingly into his trousers.
She reached out and put her hands on him, spread her fingers wide. His scent was hypnotising her...earthy and musky and male. The scent she’d made for him mixed with his own unique essence. She bent forward to press her lips against his hot skin, her mouth exploring and finding the small hard point of his nipple. She licked it experimentally and Alix jerked.
She pulled back, looked up. ‘Did I hurt you?’
He shook his head and smiled. ‘No, you didn’t hurt me...sorcière. Lie down on the bed,’ he instructed.
Leila was only too happy to comply. She felt shaky. The taste of his skin was addictive. She collapsed onto the bed and Alix moved over her before pressing a kiss to her mouth and moving down, trailing his lips over her jaw and neck, down to her breasts, anointing one and then the other.
He pulled back slightly and looked at her before saying, ‘I’m going to take your trousers off...’
