Shadow Warrior (The Shadow Series Book 4)

by Christine Feehan

  She stood in front of him in just her jeans and a lacy bra. She was on the thinner side and lately, because she wasn’t eating much, her ribs tended to show. She knew that bothered him because he traced each one with his fingers, a small frown on his face.

  “The doctor said you needed to eat more, gattina. I think you’ve eaten less. Every tray brought to you, no matter what Merry fixed, had most of the food still on it. Is there something you prefer to eat that I haven’t thought of?”

  Her pulse jumped and then began pounding. His hands were at the waistband of her jeans. She tried to be casual, as if she’d been stripped naked by a man every day of her life. He was looking down and the wealth of gleaming, thick black hair, a little on the shaggy side, was an invitation. Tempting her like the devil when she knew she should be good. She didn’t want to be. She wanted his touch. His kisses. She wanted the two of them to be as intimate in the bedroom as they had been when talking together.

  He looked up and her heart contracted. “Gattina?”

  Grace ruthlessly pushed away the need to sink her fingers in his hair and shook her head. “The food is wonderful. Truly. Merry is a great cook. I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

  His gaze dropped again to her jeans and the task at hand. He hooked his thumbs in her waistband and slid them over her hips, taking the little lace panties with them. She knew they were damp, and her face flamed a wild rose. There was no stopping the blush and she knew it was covering every inch of her body.

  He put the jeans and panties aside and reached around her to unhook her bra. “Grace, wouldn’t it be more comfortable for you not to wear a bra until your shoulder is healed?”

  She stood completely naked in front of him and when he dropped his gaze, she saw his chest rise with a swift intake of breath. His eyes lifted to her face. There was no hiding the raw desire etched into his expression. It darkened his indigo eyes until the blue was nearly black. He pinned her hair on top of her head and stepped back.

  “You’re so beautiful, woman. You take my breath away.” Abruptly, but gently, he removed her sling and the brace that supported her arm in between her physical therapy sessions.

  Grace wanted to hug the knowledge to herself that he still wanted her. She might be too thin, but he still found her beautiful and desirable. He slipped the casing on her shoulder and arm and then unexpectedly cupped her right breast. One thumb slid over her nipple, stroking caresses until she thought she might go insane.

  “I’m not above seducing you to get what I want,” he confessed.

  She didn’t tell him, but his voice alone could seduce her. Having his hands on her was beyond exciting. Exhilarating. She wanted more. She wanted to feel as if she belonged to him.

  “I’m not above letting you,” she admitted, tearing her gaze from the mesmerizing and rather erotic sight of his big hand claiming possession of her breast, stroking her nipple into a tight peak.

  The expression on his face was extraordinary. Once again, he was wholly focused on her. On her body. On the way she reacted to him. His expression was cut into sensual lines and the look sent a shiver of excitement coursing through her.

  “This isn’t safe.” He bent his head slowly, giving her every opportunity to step away.

  She couldn’t move, not if her life depended on it. She had never wanted anything more in her life. His hair brushed her skin. If felt like a million strands of silk heightening every nerve ending. Then his mouth was on her left breast, his tongue teasing her nipple. She gasped at the fire spreading through her, rushing to pool low. She felt the empty clench of her sex, the sudden slickness between her thighs. He suckled gently at first, but then the fingers on his other hand began to roll and tug her nipple. His mouth worked her mound harder, teeth scraping and sending little strikes of lightning arrowing downward.

  Then his teeth tugged on one nipple and his thumb and finger did the same to the other. She arched her back, giving him better access. Her arm slid around his head, trying to cradle him to her. Her knees went weak, legs turning rubbery, threatening to give out on her. Her body turned to fire. Flames raced through her veins, and a fireball grew in her core, spreading need and hunger through her until she was no thinking person. Only pure feeling, every nerve ending alive.

  She heard the moan that escaped. She sounded as needy as she felt. Nothing in her life had ever felt so good and yet at the same time, so frustrating. She needed . . . more. Her fingers finally sank into that thick, silky hair, fisting there, claiming him.

  His tongue lapped at her nipple and she closed her eyes, knowing he was going to save them both. “I don’t want saving,” she whispered, meaning it.

  “Neither do I,” he murmured against her bare skin. “It’s the last thing I want. You have to be sure, Grace. I know you’re what I want, but you have to come to terms with your fear and accept the relationship because when you do, you have to know you’re giving yourself to me. Putting yourself in my hands, trusting me always to do the right thing for you. For us. For our children. You take your bath and we’ll talk over dinner.”

  She reluctantly allowed her fingers to loosen in his hair so he could stand up. He stood just enough to brush a kiss over her lips. She knew she was pouting, but her entire body was on fire. The only good thing was he had a large bulge in the front of his pin-striped trousers that told her she wasn’t alone in her frustration or need.

  “Tell me what you need from me, Vittorio.” She walked on shaky legs to the edge of the tub. He had his arm around her the entire way. Looking down, she could see the marks of his possession on her breasts. She could still feel every nerve ending sparking like little electrical shocks to her body, needing more. Her nipples were twin hard peaks, blatantly telling him she wanted him.

  “I need you to commit fully to me. You have to know for certain, without any doubts, that I’m the man for you.” He lifted her with casual strength, careful of her shoulder as he placed her in the bathtub. He kept hold of her until she sank down into the hot, soothing water.

  She loved the bathtub. Showering or bathing had always been fast and efficient. The entire time she’d felt vulnerable, afraid any minute that Haydon would come in and harass her. She didn’t like the feeling that he was spying on her all those years, but there was nothing she could do about it. He enjoyed taunting her with his ability to move in and out of any house or apartment. Or that he could find her wherever she was. He loved holding it over her head that he could get into the home of anyone she talked too long to.

  “Can anyone do that, Vittorio? No one knows the future. You could stop wanting me.”

  “That would be impossible for me. I know this relationship started in an extreme way, but it’s real. What I feel for you is real and it’s only growing. I hope it’s the same for you, but only you can determine that. I’m willing to wait. I’m willing to let you have as much time as you need, but the truth is, all obstacles are in your mind. If you let yourself believe in me, I’ll take care of us. I believe absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, that you’ll take care of us just as well.”

  He placed a gel pillow behind her head and one under her arm. “I’m heading for my shower. I’ll be back in a short time. The water should stay hot for you.” He ran his hand very possessively over her shoulder, down to her breast, caressing the soft skin once again before abruptly leaving her.

  She had no doubt that he’d be back before the water had time to cool. What did that say? She closed her eyes, although he’d dimmed the lights in the bathroom as he went out the door. Of course he had. He saw to everything. He thought of everything. She’d never felt she had the luxury to lie in a bathtub, the hot water soothing her body, and she wouldn’t have anywhere else. She relaxed because of Vittorio.

  Grace tried to think what possible criteria she met that other women didn’t. Francesca and Sasha had been casual about it, as if it wasn’t any big deal, but they had intimated that whatever the Ferraro men required, there weren’t all that many women who
met their needs. Did they have some built-in radar for a woman who might keep up with them sexually? Just the thought as well as the admission to herself gave her a full body blush. From the moment she’d laid eyes on Vittorio Ferraro, she’d been awakened sexually. By that, she had to admit, her entire body had come alive. Every single nerve ending. Muscles she hadn’t known about.

  It was strange to her that she didn’t feel the same way about the other Ferraro men. From the beginning, Vittorio was the one who’d captured her interest, and then her heart.

  She’d read the tabloids as well as any news article. She’d searched the Internet for anything at all on him. Some things she’d dismissed as pure gossip, but it hadn’t mattered. The compulsion to read everything had been too hard to resist. She would have kept pictures like a stalker, but Haydon would have realized her interest in Vittorio and she didn’t want that.

  She knew from every article that the Ferraro men had ferocious sexual appetites. That couldn’t be all made up. Maybe their criteria for a bride could match them so that they never had reason to stray. She didn’t like that thought. Francesca couldn’t have sex, not with her pregnancy. Stefano was never far from her. She couldn’t imagine him cheating on her. So, it wasn’t about sex. She almost wished it was, because she could have checked that box. Once the door had been opened, she found herself wondering about all kinds of sex, and in every erotic fantasy, Vittorio had been her partner.

  Criteria aside, what did she need in a partner? If she took out fantasy and really tried to look at the man Vittorio was, would she want him? Strip away the hot body and the gorgeous eyes. His voice, so smooth he could stroke her skin with every note. Take away the fact that he was the wealthiest man she knew, what was there about him that she craved? Needed?

  Safety was paramount. She knew that. She knew she would always need to feel safe because she never had. The feeling that her partner wanted to form a family unit with her, she’d never had that, either. She wanted freedom to do her work and follow her dreams with her partner’s full support. At the same time, she didn’t want to have to be the “bad guy” all the time. She was at work. She didn’t want to confront anyone at home. She liked the idea of her man taking charge when she was home. That relationship appealed to her along with most of what came with it. It both excited her and scared her a little, which she liked. She craved the feeling of being a man’s whole focus in every aspect of their relationship. Some would say it wasn’t healthy, but it was for her. It was what she knew she needed when she’d never been anyone’s anything before. She wanted to be her man’s everything.

  The huge question was . . . as she got older, would she still need it? If Haydon Phillips was out of her life, would she want the same things in a relationship? She would sexually; she knew the idea of Vittorio taking charge was more than exciting. She liked being taken care of. Was it because she’d never had care as a child? Maybe. That was a real possibility, but did it matter the reason? She might have been born wanting total care from her partner.

  She knew she was the type of woman who would always look after her man and her children. She was a detail person. Meticulous about details. She noticed everything around her and what made people comfortable and when they weren’t. That was what made her so good at her job. She would be even more so at home with the people she loved, if given the chance.

  Her eyes flew open. She wanted the chance to care for Vittorio Ferraro in the same way he cared for her. That didn’t mean making decisions she didn’t want to make. Or forcing herself to make demands in the bedroom. It meant seeing to the details that made him happy. Giving him whatever it was that made his life full and contented. If anyone was capable of doing just that, it was Grace Murphy.

  “You ready to get out of there, bella?”

  His voice cut through every doubt, if any lingered. She wanted to hear that voice for the rest of her life. She knew he only saw her. That tone was reserved only for her. She forgot about being embarrassed that she was naked. She knew he liked looking at her body and she didn’t mind in the least giving that to him—or tempting him.

  “I’m ready.”

  “I’ve got your clothes laid out. We’re going to eat on the back patio. I’ve set up a small table and the screens are in place so we’ll be insect-free.” He let the water out and reached for her, his hands around her waist.

  She put one hand on his shoulder. He was in his casual clothes, this time soft drawstring pants and a thin button-up shirt he left unbuttoned. As usual in his home, he was barefoot. Her sex clenched and this time the heat moving through her seemed like lazy molasses that spread slowly, taking over her veins one by one until it reached her core, settling there like a smoldering fire waiting to flare.

  “I love to sit out there and look at the water.” She did, it was her favorite place in the evening.

  She stood still while he dried her off. He took his time, sliding the towel sensuously over her breasts and then stopping to suck her nipples into hard peaks before proceeding lower. He crouched, so she had to steady herself with one hand to his shoulder as the towel slid back and forth between her legs creating a terrible burn that kept building when his tongue drew a line up her thigh and then flicked her clit. His hair set fire to nerve endings and then he was standing.

  “You could keep going. I wouldn’t mind.”

  His eyes drifted over her, noting her color, her breathing, the peaked nipples, with satisfaction. “We’re going to talk, Grace.”

  She knew there would be no swaying him, but she also knew her hunger for him was going to continue to grow as the evening progressed. She couldn’t be with him and not crave him. Now that she’d felt his hands and mouth on her, that craving had grown stronger.

  On the bed was a filmy, very short gown. She looked at him but didn’t protest when he pulled the sleeveless hole over her injured arm up to her shoulder. With extreme gentleness, he slipped the gown over her head and then her other arm. He had to pull the forest green stretch lace over her breasts. It clung like a second skin, feeling so sexy her nipples peeked out through the open lace. He drew it down over her ribs and settled the fabric over her hips. The lace ended just under her bottom, barely covering her mound or her backside.

  “I’ve sent everyone from the house,” he assured as he picked up a longer filmy robe that fell to the back of her thighs. “Do you feel the need to wear this? I would prefer not, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  The robe wouldn’t cover a thing, but she knew psychologically, it might give her more confidence. Vittorio was leaving it up to her, but he’d made his preference known. She had already made up her mind she was going to jump into their relationship with both feet. She wanted to make him happy, see to every detail she could, and this was a very small one. She loved the feel of the stretchy lace of the gown on her skin. It made her feel sexy. Mostly, she liked the way he looked at her.

  “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

  Grace was shocked at the amount of pleasure she got from watching his face. He was very pleased and the desire for her darkened in his eyes to a raw, hungry lust that made her press her thighs together. The burning between her legs increased.

  “Dinner is going to get cold if we don’t get out there, and I want you to eat tonight.” He stepped back to let her walk just in front of him.

  She had never considered that just walking in front of a man could make her feel sensual with every single step. It didn’t matter that her shoulder still felt a little heavy and awkward, she wasn’t even aware of it, because she found herself totally focused on Vittorio. Every breath she drew, every step she took, she was aware of him close to her. His hand found the small of her back, branding her there with his heat. The breath hissed out of her lungs in an excited rush.

  His hand slipped lower, shaping the curve of her butt, resting there possessively so that deep inside that smoldering fire burst into flame. He stroked a caress from the top curve of her bottom to the dip between her cheek and thi
gh, tracing along that line briefly, and brought his hand back to claim her again. Her body went slick and hot.

  Inside the room created by the fine mesh, candles were lit, so that light danced across the small table. He pulled out a high-backed chair with a wide seat and helped her into it. The lace pulled up nearly to the top of her hips, exposing her lower half. She glanced down to see liquid drops gleaming on the fiery curls at the junction between her legs. His hand dropped to her thigh, almost casually. She went very still, but she didn’t pull away, her heart beating fast.

  His fingers slid into the curls, lower still to caress her clit and gather up the droplets. She couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the carnal look on his face. Her heart was nearly pounding out of her chest. She could actually feel blood pounding through her clit. He brought his fingers to his mouth.

  “I’ve wanted to taste you from the moment I saw you leap out of the trunk.” His voice was that low, intimate husky growl that aroused her every time she heard it.

  He licked his fingers slowly. Savoring the taste. Never taking his eyes from hers. It was the sexist thing she’d ever seen. Her entire body reacted. She could barely breathe, hot, aroused, completely under his spell.

  He slipped into the chair across from her, but the table was so small, he could reach out and touch her. “I hope you’re hungry. Merry outdid herself. She knows you haven’t had much of an appetite lately, so she made certain this was very light fare.”

  She suddenly had an appetite, but not necessarily for food. Vittorio had fallen silent, those dark indigo eyes fixed on her face. Waiting. She realized he was waiting for her to speak. “I’ll try.”

  He sent her a small smile as he placed a tostada on her plate. “This is white bean with blackberry salsa, one of Merry’s favorites. Pumpkin dukkah with avocado slices, which are good for you and she says you are particularly fond of. Both the salsa and the dukkah are homemade. I think you’ll love them.”