by Teri Wilson
Juliet leaned over the stone edge of the balcony. Surely he was bluffing. He wouldn’t actually try to climb up there.
She rolled her eyes. “Leo, please.”
He planted his foot on the bottom level of the lattice fencing attached to the wall, aimed a searing glance up at her and then gave the trellis a good shake. The roses trembled, and a lone pink petal drifted toward the ground as he pulled himself up about a foot off the ground.
“You’re really planning on climbing all the way up here?” The building was five stories. Hardly a skyscraper. And her room was only on the second floor, but still.
He could get hurt. Could people die from falling two stories? She was pretty sure they could. Or at the very least be seriously injured.
“It looks that way, doesn’t it?” He pushed past a cluster of rose blossoms and moved a bit closer.
The trellis seemed to be holding up, thank goodness. But he winced once or twice and muttered a string of expletives. He’d most likely encountered a few thorns. Well, that served him right. He was behaving like a crazy person.
She crossed her arms. “Leo, stop. This is insane.”
She should go inside and forget he was even out here. Maybe then he’d shimmy back down the wall and go away. But she couldn’t seem to make her feet move. She stood rooted to the spot while he climbed his way farther up.
Her stomach tightened as the distance grew greater between Leo and the cobblestones below. She wanted to close her eyes, but they remained stubbornly open. He only suffered one little stumble. About halfway up, his foot slipped from the trellis. His body gave a little jerk. Roses shivered. But he managed not to fall to his death, so she released the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.
Quicker than she would have imagined, he was level with her balcony. His lips curved into a cocky smirk. “Hello there, Juliet.”
God, he wasn’t even out of breath. If she’d attempted such a feat, she no doubt would have ended up with a nice collection of broken bones. Of course, he wasn’t actually on the balcony yet. He was still hanging on to the trellis.
“What now, Spider-Man?” she asked dryly.
He swung his legs up and over the little cement wall that served as a railing, landing deftly on his feet. Impressive. She wondered how he’d managed to learn how to scale walls and hurdle barriers at the same time he’d been busy perfecting the art of making French macarons.
He glanced behind him at the railing. “Did you really think once I’d gotten up here I’d let a silly little wall keep me away? Stony limits can’t hold me, Juliet.”
Stony limits can’t hold me.
It was a nice thought. Of course, there were plenty of other limits they had to worry about that were much stronger than stone. But at the moment, she was having trouble remembering what those limits were.
They stood face-to-face on the small balcony with the tangy scent of fresh lemons swirling in the air. It seemed as if all of Rome smelled of lemons. There wasn’t a star in the sky. Somewhere in the distance church bells rang, and the moon hung heavy and full over the grand dome of St. Peter’s Basilica. A harvest moon, gold and luminous, not unlike the one that shone overhead the night they’d met in the vineyard.
The full moon. It must be to blame.
If the stars of fate could be blamed for keeping them apart, it only seemed fair to credit the moon with bringing them together.
She inhaled a steadying breath. Clearly the wine she’d had with dinner had gone to her head. She wasn’t thinking straight. Fate, stars, the powers of a full moon...
None of it made sense. Then again, neither did running into Leo on the Spanish Steps.
She had no idea what to say.
“Hi.”
Hi? Really? The man had just scaled a wall to get to her and all she could manage was a breathy hi? Pathetic.
He reached out and wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “Hi there.”
He continued to watch her with an intensity that she felt down to her soul. It didn’t help quell the romantic notions in her head. There was a wildness about that look in his eyes, something primal and wholly unrestrained. A leaf clung to his shoulder and a twig stuck in his hair, as if he’d crawled through the jungle to get to her. Which, in a way, he had. He had scratches on his hands and a small cut on his left temple, no doubt from the thorny rose bushes. For some crazy reason, that tiny glimpse of blood caused Juliet’s heart to thump violently in her chest.
He cast a glance over her shoulder toward the French doors that led to her room. “Is your family here?”
She could lie. And then what? He’d pull a parachute out of thin air and glide back down to the ground? It wouldn’t have surprised her in the slightest.
She swallowed. “Not yet.”
“I see. So your family is no obstacle tonight.” His grin broadened, equal parts wicked and triumphant. He released the lock of her hair, brushed his fingertips over her cheek and stepped even closer. His gaze was penetrating as it swept over her, and with each passing second she found it increasingly harder to breathe.
She’d never felt so utterly naked in her life. Not even when she’d undressed for him in her kitchen.
She reached to remove the twig from his hair, and he caught her wrist. “Come here.”
She gasped as he pulled her hard against him, sliding his hands over her rib cage until they splayed against her back, holding her in place. She couldn’t have moved anyhow. That look in his eyes that seemed to echo the need she felt deep in the pit of her stomach had paralyzed her. Her head grew fuzzy. The intoxicating fragrance of fresh roses clung to him, making her dizzy.
She blinked. They should discuss this like rational people instead of acting without thinking. The last time they’d done something like this, it had resulted in a spectacular mess. And here they were, a mere day away from facing off against one another again. Only this time, there was even more at stake.
She should be thinking about the chocolate contest. That’s why she was here in Rome. But it was the last thing on her mind at the moment. Still, she managed to pay it lip service in case he was on a different page. “The competition...”
“Doesn’t start for another sixteen hours,” he growled, his hands sliding up her back and burying themselves in her hair.
Then his mouth came down on hers, hard, searching, demanding. Her lips throbbed from the force of his tender brutality, a bruise in the making.
When she’d implored him not to be gentle the last time, she’d thought he’d done as she asked. She was beginning to realize she’d been wrong. This was different from before. Darker. More dangerous. And even more intoxicating.
Violent ends.
She clutched at the lapels of his jacket, holding on for dear life as the kisses came too quick and too urgent to keep track of where one ended and the next began. But any attempt at anchoring herself was futile. She was falling into him again, just as she’d done since that very first night. Something about him drew her right in again and again, time after time. Like gravity. And now, as ever, she was incapable of resisting.
The words she didn’t want to say slipped right out. She murmured against his lips, “God, I’ve missed you.”
He took his mouth from hers and cradled her face in his hands, dragging the pad of his thumb along her throbbing bottom lip. “I know, baby, I know. Me, too.”
He kept his gaze locked with hers as he dropped his hands to her waist, slid them over the curve of her hips and around to her bottom. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, and he rocked his hips, pressing the hard swell of his arousal into her belly to show her just how much he’d missed her.
She whimpered, and Leo’s eyes went darker than ever.
“You know how I feel about that sound,” he said, guiding her backward until she bumped up against the wall.
; She gripped at the concrete with shaky hands while Leo braced his arms on either side of her head, hemming her in. She wanted to touch him, but she couldn’t seem to make her limbs work. That familiar slow heat had ignited deep in her abdomen and seemed to be mirrored in the fire she saw in Leo’s gaze. And as he leaned down and nipped gently at her neck, her most pressing thought was how very much she’d like to be burnt.
“You taste divine. I’d almost forgotten.” Leo’s tongue made a languorous trail from her neck to her shoulder. Hot openmouthed kisses, punctuated with the occasional bite. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget again.”
His fingers made quick work of unbuttoning her dress. Before she could take in a lungful of fresh sea air, the garment fell to the floor. A gentle breeze fluttered over her exposed skin, intensifying each kiss, each nip of his teeth. Every cell in her body went on high alert.
“Leo,” she breathed, sagging against the wall. If he didn’t stop what he was doing, she’d never remain upright.
Leo. Lion. She’d been so preoccupied with his last name that she hadn’t given much thought to his first. It suited him. He looked every bit a lion right then, all powerful grace. Even his eyes were lionlike as he let his gaze travel over her exposed shoulders and breasts. Like a wild cat stalking its prey.
“I want to touch you forever,” he said with the utmost seriousness, sliding her bra off her shoulders until it too lay in a heap at their feet. His fingers hooked in the lacy edge of her panties and pulled, until she was completely naked on her hotel balcony.
Forever.
It was a dangerous word. And it made the heat flowing through her all the more scorching.
Juliet pretended she hadn’t heard it. “Shouldn’t we go inside?”
His hand slid up the back of her thigh, and he lifted her leg until it was wrapped around his waist. “No. I want you right here. Right now.”
A soft, shuddering moan pierced the quiet night, and Juliet realized it had come from her own lips. She wanted him so badly it was painful. Desire consumed her from the inside out. Each tiny nibble, each wet, hot lick of his tongue was agony. The cool, damp Roman air bit at each place where he kissed her, raising her skin into tiny, torturous goose bumps.
She reached for his fly, unbuttoned it and slid down the zipper, freeing him. He tensed when she took him in her hands. He was harder than she’d ever felt him. Solid, hot and ready. When she stroked him, he trembled and let out a long, agonizing groan that could surely be heard from cobblestoned streets below.
Then he took control, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand so she couldn’t move. A tremulous shiver of desperate want coursed through her as he paused to look at her, his free hand holding her chin, his gaze wild and hungry.
“Leo,” she breathed, wishing she could tell him how very much she wanted him no matter what the consequences. But she was unable to articulate more than his name.
He seemed to understand perfectly, though.
“I know, baby. I know,” he said, his voice raw with desire.
He tightened his grip on her chin, tilting her face toward his. Then he kissed her as if his very life depended on it, and she arched toward him, utterly helpless. She couldn’t move, and she had no choice but to simply kiss and give.
His free hand dropped to her breast, then her waist, then between her legs in a glorious trail of exploration that left her gasping for breath. Then he slipped his fingers inside her, and she thought she might die from longing. Her arms still pinned, she wrapped her leg more firmly around his waist, pulling him closer and closer still, until his body was crushing hers against the wall.
“Now, please,” she begged, her eyes drifting closed, unable to wait another second to have him inside her.
“Open your eyes.” he said. “I want you to look at me.”
Her lashes fluttered open, and she found him staring down at her with those midnight eyes filled with an intoxicating combination of wonder, desire and something far more edgy that she couldn’t quite identify.
Her breath caught in her throat during that final moment of anticipation as his erection pressed against her core. Her entire body went liquid. Music drifted to her ears, a mournful melody from the streets below. Strains of a violin floating on the errant night breeze. Leo’s gaze never strayed, but remained fixed on hers, his face mere inches from hers.
And then she recognized it—that look in his eyes.
Possession.
“Mine,” he groaned as he entered her, not with a push but rather an excruciatingly slow, aching grind.
It was too much—this overwhelming need to be taken, this pleasure, this fullness.
This man.
In that instant, he owned her. He knew it, and so did she. He was devouring her, and all she could do was give. She had no choice but to yield to desire, to the wild Italian night. To him.
And in the final moment before Juliet came apart, all she could do was whisper in return, “Yours.”
21
Leo opened his eye a crack and then closed it again. If that was the morning light he saw peeking through Juliet’s balcony window, he didn’t want to know. Not yet.
He wanted another minute. Another hour. Another night. Sometimes he even thought he might want forever. Which was problematic, to say the least.
Whatever the future might hold, they’d at least had one perfect night. After their tryst on the balcony, he’d slowly and methodically helped Juliet back into her dress. Then they’d returned to the Spanish Steps with a bottle of red and two plastic cups from the hotel bathroom. It had been well past midnight, and they’d found the usually bustling piazza beautifully barren. Under a starless sky, they’d strolled hand in hand all the way to the top of the steps. There they’d sat and sipped wine while taking in the sweeping view of Rome under the inky blanket of night. They’d listened to the cry of seagulls, the peal of church bells from every direction, and they’d made out like teenagers.
It had been near dawn when they returned to her room—by way of the elevator this time—and Leo had wasted no time getting her out of that dress again. The things he’d done to her...the things she’d done to him...
The memory of it lingered in his waking consciousness, so that falling back asleep was impossible. He played with a lock of Juliet’s hair, twisted it around his finger, and watched as she stirred to life.
“Mmm.” She stretched against him, her body as supple and lithe as a cat’s, until her eyelashes fluttered open. “Tell me it’s not morning yet. Tell me that light I see coming in the window is starlight. A spectacular meteor shower setting the night on fire.”
He was growing hard again. How was that even possible? He would have thought he’d reached the end of himself by now.
“It’s not morning yet,” he lied, shifting and snuggling against her backside. Two perfect spoons.
He’d tell her whatever it was she wanted to hear if it meant he could stay in this room, in this bed, just a little while longer.
He’d say the light coming through the window wasn’t morning at all. He’d say it was the reflection of the low-hanging moon, shining just for them.
Juliet turned in his arms, and he kissed her, finding her lips warm from sleep. She sighed into his mouth, and for a lingering, drowsy moment, everything was exactly as it should have been.
“Oh, my God! It is morning.” She sat halfway up in bed, the sheet dropping to expose her bare breasts.
Leo’s lips strayed lower, moving down her neck, across her collar bone, to where his hands captured those beautiful breasts.
She melted into him for a moment, that purr he loved so much escaping from her lips, and then she tensed. “Leo, you can’t be here. It’s getting lighter and lighter outside.”
“More light,” he murmured against her sweet-tasting skin. “Mo
re pain for us.”
How long would they be destined to live in the dark?
“Seriously, do you have any idea what time it is? My family is scheduled to land at Fiumicino at nine o’clock.”
He had no idea what time it was, as time seemed to have been suspended for a while now. But it couldn’t be anywhere near nine o’clock already. Could it?
The click of a door being opened told him that, yes, actually, it could.
“Oh, geez. You’ve got to be kidding me.” The always cheerful Alegra walked in the room and dropped her small suitcase on the ground with a thud, causing Juliet to bounce to the other side of the bed. Alegra expelled a loud sigh and shielded her eyes. “You guys are having sex, aren’t you? I think my retinas have been permanently scarred.”
Juliet’s cheeks turned as pink as the climbing roses outside. “We’re not having sex.”
Alegra snorted. “At the moment, maybe.”
Leo sighed and positioned himself in front of Juliet on the bed so she could have a modicum of privacy, which seemed a little irrelevant at this point. “Hello, Alegra.”
“Hey there, Sparkle.” Her gaze flitted to his naked torso for a second. “Nice biceps. I mean, I’m not sure why they’re wrapped around my cousin. In Rome. But nice, nonetheless.”
He wasn’t at all sure how to respond to that sort of backhanded compliment, so he settled on a muttered, “Thanks.”
Juliet dashed from the bed, pulled an oversize T-shirt from a drawer and slipped it over her head. Leo did his best not to fixate on the exposed length of lithe, sun-kissed legs stretching out from beneath the hem.
Juliet jammed her hands on her hips. She was flustered, clearly. The most gorgeous flustered woman Leo had ever laid eyes on. “Alegra, what are you doing here?”
“It’s Tuesday morning. I’m supposed to be here, remember?” She aimed a pointed glance at Leo. “He, on the other hand, is not.”
A muscle in Leo’s jaw tightened.
Juliet’s cheeks turned a brighter shade of crimson. “Alegra, now is not the time.”
