Bound by the Italian's Contract

by Janette Kenny

  “But I do,” she said, batting at the unwelcome tears stinging her eyes, debating if she should tell him what had happened that night he’d left her.

  Why? What good would it serve? None.

  “I have lived with shame and fear and the desperate need to escape the world my mother adored,” she said instead.

  He hung his head, jaw clenched. “I didn’t know that pained you so much, but then I was too wrapped up in my own problems and needs. What else can I say to convince you that I am truly sorry for my past behavior?”

  “Nothing. Explanations aren’t necessary.” For either of them. She shook her head, shelving that dark past where it belonged. “Did you hire me because you regretted how you treated me in the past?”

  “No. I told you it was because you are the best at what you do and I meant it. The past had nothing to do with it.” He grasped her hand and she could have sworn she saw sparks fly from the contact. God knew she felt the burn to the depths of her soul. “What can I do to ease your mind, Caprice? Tell me.”

  “You’re doing it.” She forced a smile, grateful she could still feel the trembles deep inside her.

  “Good.” He rubbed his hands together and smiled, a far more relaxed expression than she thought him capable of. “Am I right then? Do you like this and feel it is the perfect design for the adaptive program?”

  She turned in a slow circle, absorbing the pulse of this amazing space, liking it. No, she loved it. Felt the energy flowing here. “You’re right. It’s amazing—this design makes me feel strong and capable of doing anything.”

  “It is the inspiration I covet.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m loath to share it, but because it will benefit others, I give it to you.”

  For a long moment she studied his solemn expression, judging if he was sincere. If relinquishing his private design somehow took the beauty and serenity from him.

  “I accept this with pride and honor and thanks.” She entwined her fingers and drank in this sense of calmness and power again, not ever wanting to lose that. “I’m anxious to get going on this. Will we be able to leave tomorrow?”

  He barked a laugh. “If we’re lucky.”

  She sobered. “Are you kidding?”

  “It could take days to clear the destruction left by the avalanche.”

  She nodded, exuberance slouching a bit. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. It has happened before.” He crossed to her and clasped her shoulders, his blue eyes turning seductively smoky. “For now, we wait for word when the road is cleared.”

  “And do what?” she asked.

  His wolfish smile was answer enough.

  * * *

  Caprice opened her eyes slowly, every muscle in her body deliciously relaxed. It was too dark to guess the time, but at some point he’d taken her to bed. And they’d never left it.

  She smiled and stretched, feeling a bit wicked being naked beneath the silk sheet with his scent on her, around her, the heat of him so near she remained comfortably warm. “Are you asleep?”

  “No,” he said gruffly in a sleep-roughened voice. “I’m too hungry. Are you?”

  Her stomach answered in a low rumble and they both laughed. “Definitely. And this time for something besides sex.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “Sure. I help out in my kitchen at the lodge all the time,” she said, a bit confused. “Why do you ask?”

  “While we were sleeping, I received a text from my housekeeper. She tried to bring the monthly supplies to the rifugio, and discovered the trail blocked, so they went back to la Duchi Royal.”

  “So someone knows we’re up here?”

  “That was never an issue. Anyway, they are safe in the village and wanted to make sure we’d escaped the avalanche.” He pulled her from the bed and draped his shirt around her shoulders, his own long, lean body beautifully naked and aroused in the arrows of moonlight that targeted him. “Come on. Let’s raid the kitchen.”

  She shrugged her arms into his shirt and rolled the sleeves up to her wrists, enjoying the glimpse of him thrusting long, strong legs into jeans that rode decadently low on his hips. “The ATV is low on petrol and my housekeeper assured me there was none to be found here, so seeking a route higher up is out of the question.”

  “We can’t get down the mountain and nobody can get up it. And supplies here are obviously limited,” she said, the isolation of being here with him finally sinking in. “How long will it take before the trail is cleared?”

  “Typically the crews have the route reopened in less than a week,” he said, his frown saying otherwise. “But this was an exceptionally wicked avalanche. It could take longer.”

  “I suppose attempting to descend the mountain on skis is out of the question?”

  “That would be too dangerous to attempt.”

  Was she really hearing this from the man who thrived to test the limits on the slopes? “But—”

  “We’ll wait for the trail to be cleared,” he cut in, his brow pulled into a dark scowl that dared her to argue.

  Not that she would.

  Taking an off-piste route around the avalanche was too risky to attempt for anyone who wasn’t a top skier. Her skills were higher than most, but nothing to compare to him. Or at least to the skier he’d been. Now? If he couldn’t attempt the run with full confidence, then they were right in staying here until the trail was safe to travel.

  “Okay,” she said, content to follow him down the wide hallway until she noticed that he favored his right leg. The same limb where her fingers had skimmed a ridge of skin before he’d pulled her hand away. “Your right side took the brunt of the injury when you fell that day on the Hahnenkamm. That’s why you don’t ski.”

  He came to a dead stop and looked back at her, eyes glacial hard again. “I wondered how long it would take you to notice.”

  “It’s not that obvious,” she said, and when he raised a questioning eyebrow, she shrugged. “I’m trained to catch things the average person wouldn’t see.”

  “As I said before, you are extremely astute. But you’re wrong about one thing. My injuries are not why I quit skiing.” He continued down the hall without explaining more, leaving her to wonder the real reason.

  She entered a large kitchen that boasted an array of copper pots and skillets, their shiny surfaces gleaming from the sun streaming through the bank of windows. “But your abilities were diminished by the accident?”

  He nodded. “My injuries were severe. As soon as I was able, I began rebuilding muscle tone. But the right side didn’t fully return, leaving me with one-sided strength. I can ski. Do pretty much anything I want,” he said, his gaze skimming over her body once, twice, as if reminding her of the pleasure they’d just shared, before settling on her eyes again. “But I would be a fool to attempt competition again.”

  “You could ski for pleasure,” she said.

  “I skied to win. Now it’s over.” He spread his arms and turned in the center of the large kitchen. “Let’s see how good you are at concocting a meal out of thin provisions.”

  And just like that, he had swiftly changed topic again. Normally she’d never have given up this easily with a client, but then, as he’d reminded her, he wasn’t her patient.

  “Your chef has excellent taste in cookware.”

  He laughed as he rummaged through a massive twin-door refrigerator that looked rather stark. “The cookware is my preference.”

  “Seriously? You cook?” she asked, and bit back adding, more than a box meal.

  “Of course I can. I love good food and have always known how most can be best prepared,” he said, kissing the pinched tips of his forefinger and thumb in such an exaggerated, theatrical way she laughed, thoroughly enjoying this freedom with a man. “It seemed logical that I learned how to prep
are these dishes as well. One lesson from a chef in Tuscany and I was hooked on cooking.”

  She shook her head and smiled, liking this playful, relaxed side of Luciano. Liking it a bit too much perhaps. But she’d come this far. She might as well enjoy this companionship with a man while it lasted.

  “I had no idea you possessed such hidden talents,” she teased.

  He laughed, a rich contralto that hummed within her. “Are you hungry, bella?”

  “Ravenous.” She moved to him and stroked a hand down his chest, feeling far bolder than she ever had with a man.

  “Hmm, would you like Italian?”

  She trailed a fingernail down his breastbone and had the satisfaction of hearing him draw a sharp breath, his blue eyes darkening to near black. “Are we talking food or the man?”

  “Both.” He bent close, capturing her lips for a kiss that was far too brief. “What would the lady like first?”

  Her stomach chose that moment to release a low growl. Or had that sound bubbled from her throat?

  “I get my choice between a fantastic meal or you?”

  “But of course. It is always your choice.”

  “Then I choose you,” she said against his lips.

  He drew her flush against his length, his mouth teasing the corners of her mouth, her nose, her eyes before melding over her, lips, tongue flicking her teeth, tasting and taunting. His hands explored her shoulders, his palms smooth, the fingers strong as they trailed down her back, over her hips before cupping her bottom and sweeping her up in his arms. Any protest she made, not that she could utter more than a gasp, was stopped by the slow, erotic thrust of his tongue against her own.

  “Bella, mio amore,” he said, flicking the buttons open on the shirt to free her breasts, his palm cupping one and brushing a thumb over the nipple before his mouth captured it, nuzzling and drawing it in deeply, doing the same to its twin in turn.

  Fire raged through her blood, a sensual inferno that could only be put out by his possession. She dug her fingernails into his back, lost to desire, not caring how or where he took her as long as it was now.

  “Love me,” she husked against his head, threading her fingers through the dampening strands of his hair and pressing closer to his ravishing mouth, feeling his blood pulsing in his temples and the tension vibrating in his arms.

  “With pleasure,” he husked out, taking her down on the counter, his weight barely suspended above her, his hot, hard erection probing her swollen flesh that was damp with desire for him again.

  This time there was no hesitation, no sense of awkwardness alive in her. The trust she’d once had returned, along with the longing she’d held close for him. But that longing had come alive at his touch, and she reveled in being wanton in his arms, consumed by the promise of pleasure that blazed in his blue eyes, a promise she’d tasted once and hungered for again.

  He rocked forward above her and she lifted her hips to meet his downward thrust. She gasped as they smoothly became one. He released a grunt of pure masculine satisfaction and held her tightly, still and hard within her, hearts thundering from the storm raging within them.

  In that moment, suspended in passion, she thought she could stay like this forever and yet knew she could barely take another moment of this sensual torment, tasted but far from sated. And then, thankfully, artfully, erotically he moved, slowly pulling back from her core before thrusting into her so hard and deeply she saw stars flickering behind her closed eyes. Heaven. She was but a breath from it and it was far more glorious than she’d dreamed it could be.

  “Look at me,” he ordered. “Look at me when you climax, bella.”

  She did, blinking until her eyes focused. Her breath caught in her throat as his gaze bore into her, holding her tighter than any bond could.

  “I could drown in your eyes,” she said.

  “If you did,” he gasped as he moved inside her with deliciously torturing thrusts, “I would follow you down and bring you back to me.”

  Tears stung her eyes and she swallowed hard, engulfed in passion, emotion, confusion. He couldn’t mean that.

  “Why?” she asked on a caught breath, staring into his eyes dark with passion, fingernails digging into his powerful upper arms.

  “For this.” He grasped her hips and pushed hard into her, features strained, cords in his neck standing like ropes.

  She arched her back, rubbing her hot body against his scorching one, muscles clenched in her core, encasing his erection. A shout, or was it a scream, tore through the air. She didn’t know. Didn’t care. Only this moment mattered with their bodies joined. His hot seed spilled inside her, his erection rubbing the sensitive nub that he’d brought to life.

  A rainbow of light flickered behind her eyes and her breath caught, her senses soaring into the stratosphere. Time had no meaning as she gloried in the sensations.

  One last delicious spasm rippled through her and she collapsed, savoring the high of passion. Nothing compared. Not even taking to the air on skis with only the wind beneath her.

  His weight came down on her, muscles slowly relaxing, body still burning hot. Both welcome. She needed his warmth. Needed the grounding of slowly returning to the present.

  Tension pulled at her, threatening to erode this bliss.

  His shoulders and head lifted off her, his brow furrowed, his gaze boring into hers. “What is wrong? Am I too heavy for you?”

  “No! I just—” She shook her head and looked away, not wanting to admit the concern this need for him caused her now.

  He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What? Tell me.”

  “I...working together, if this ends badly...”

  “This was a mutual surrender to passion,” he said, guessing at her concern, his lips curling into a seductive smile. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Her words in their most basic form. “You’re right.”

  “Don’t look for the bad to happen.” He took her hand and held it. “Not here, not now.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t trust him, couldn’t trust him, any more than she did her ability to control her desires around him. Being lovers for the time she was in Italy was inevitable. She wouldn’t argue that point. Nor would she deny him or herself that wondrous pleasure, but she wouldn’t play the fool, believing every promise, every sweet lie that tumbled from a lover’s lips.

  With Luciano she would take what he offered. Savor it. Revel in the pleasure. She would enjoy the present and not worry about the future.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LUC STOOD ON the deck overlooking the precipice and welcomed the sun beating down on his face, staring out over the vast Alps yet not focusing on anything. His mind was elsewhere, just as it had been the past three days.

  It seemed ironic that he’d balked over bringing Caprice to his rifugio and now dreaded the thought of leaving here. His reasons were purely selfish.

  He’d had the pleasure of having her in his bed surrendering to passion and didn’t want it to end. When was the last time he’d spent this much time alone with a woman and enjoyed it?

  He shook his head, unable to recall one. Even when he was married, he and Isabella had never spent much more than a day together without it ending in an argument.

  But while his compatibility with Caprice was stronger than what he’d had with his wife, he well understood she was using him just the same. The only difference was that he’d known going into it that Caprice was only interested in his money.

  He scraped his fingers through his windblown hair and swore. If he was honest with himself, he was more than fond of Caprice. He admired her. Cared deeply for her. Lusted for her.

  Though he’d been sure that once he’d tasted her passion his ardor would cool, his craving for her this morning disproved that theory. She’d quickly become the wildfire in
his blood, and sex only fanned the flames. As did thinking about making love with her, he thought sourly, which was happening too frequently.

  Their affair was short-term at best. So what if her reasons for being with him were selfish? He could be that way as well, wanting her only for the incredible sex.

  That did not have to change when they returned to the lodge, which would be soon. As of an hour ago, the track was cleared and his housekeeper and caretaker had started back to the rifugio.

  There was no reason for him and Caprice to remain here when their careers and obligations demanded they return to the lodge. Once there, he saw no reason why they couldn’t continue their affair for the duration of the contract.

  It would simply be convenient. A mutual give and take. They would both get what they wanted without worry over lasting entanglements. Surely she would not object to that.

  He whirled on a heel and entered to the bedroom. If they hurried they could be on the road in thirty minutes or less, giving them plenty of time to return to the lodge before dark.

  The bed was empty, save the pile of crumpled bedding that streamed from the bed to the floor. “Caprice?”

  “I’m here.”

  He spun around to find her standing in the en suite doorway, eyes wide and sheet clutched to her bosom. The mirror behind her showcased her firm spine and feminine curves of a near-perfect body. Not model perfect. She was “seductive woman” perfect.

  “Did you want something?” she asked, clutching the bath sheet tighter, which only emphasized the enticing globes of her bottom.

  Her show of modesty made him smile.

  “I got a text from my housekeeper. The track is clear.”

  Her eyes brightened. “We can leave then?”

  “As soon as we can.”

  “Great,” she said, moving toward the clothes she’d been wearing off and on for days, though in reality they had been more off of late. “I need to get to work quickly on the project if I’m to have it completed in a month or less.”