Penniless Virgin to Sicilian's Bride

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Gabriel groaned against her mouth, one of his hands moving from her bottom to gently cup her breast. His touch, even through the layers of her clothes, was electrifying, thrilling to her senses. ‘You are so damn beautiful but you are wearing too many clothes.’ His voice was rough with desire, rough and sexy, and it made her legs feel weak to think he was as turned on by her as she was him.

  ‘So are you.’

  He shrugged off his jacket and tore the tie from around his neck and tossed it aside, his smouldering eyes holding hers.

  Frankie pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and placed her hands on the warm hard flesh of his back. He undid the buttons and hauled it over his head and threw it in the same direction as his jacket and tie. He slid the zip at the back of her satin dress down and it fell away from her and pooled in a silky puddle at her feet. She wondered why she wasn’t feeling shy standing in front of him in just bra and knickers. She felt feminine and sexy, especially with the way his eyes were drinking her curves in. His hands skated over her lace-covered breasts, teasing them with his light touch, sending delicious frissons through her.

  His hands came to the edge of her knickers, the touch of his fingers against her belly making her skin tingle and tighten. She sucked in a shuddery breath and he stalled his movements. ‘Am I going too fast for you?’ His voice had a note of concern, his gaze searching.

  Frankie disguised a swallow, her heart racing, her body aching for more of his touch. ‘You’re not going fast enough.’ She went to work on the fastening of his trousers, her fingers brushing over the sprinkling of black hair of his rock-hard abdomen that disappeared in a trail below his waistband.

  His hands came to her aid and he unzipped himself, kicking off his shoes, and stepping out of his trousers. Frankie couldn’t take her eyes off his body. His gloriously male body—tight and toned and tanned—and the temptation of his hard length beneath his dark blue underwear. She stood on one leg to undo the straps of her stilettoes but almost overbalanced.

  ‘Here. Let me help you.’ He bent down in front of her and undid the right shoe and then the left, the skin-on-skin touch making her breath catch.

  He straightened and placed his hands on her hips, holding her against the jut of his erection. She moved against him instinctively, searching for his possession as if she had done this many times before. It felt so right to be this close. Close enough to feel the throb and pulse of his blood. To feel the heat and potency of his male flesh against the throb and ache of hers.

  His mouth came down again, sealing hers in a slow, drugging kiss that made every hair on her scalp tingle at the roots. His tongue played tag with hers, the erotic movements making her lower body burn with damp heat. Her inner core pulsated with the need to feel him inside her, her tender flesh swollen, ready for his possession. His mouth left hers and blazed a hot trail of barely there kisses over her neck and décolletage, every light touchdown of his lips making her almost dizzy with desire.

  Frankie slid her hands up to his hair, her fingers playing with the thick dark strands, tugging and releasing, delighting in the sounds of approval he was making when she pressed herself as close as she could. ‘I want you. All of you.’ Her voice was practically vibrating with desire.

  Gabriel came back to crush her mouth beneath his in a deep kiss that played havoc with her senses. She was literally going to die if he didn’t assuage this searing ache in her flesh. He lifted his head after a moment and his gaze smouldered. ‘I want you so badly it’s killing me.’ His tone was as ragged as his breathing and it made her feel powerfully feminine to have done this to him. Made him breathless with desperate longing.

  Frankie pulled down her bra straps off her shoulders, suddenly too shy to take her bra off by herself. He reached behind her and unclipped it, his eyes flaring with heat when they devoured her curves. His hands came around to cup her naked breasts, his touch sending shivers darting down her spine. ‘You are beyond beautiful.’ His thumbs passed over her sensitive nipples, back and forth, teasing them into even tighter buds. ‘So damn gorgeous I can’t keep my hands off you.’

  ‘I want your hands on me.’ Frankie arched her spine under the lazy rolling of his thumbs, every nerve quivering with pleasure, pleasure that was shooting down in a hot current between her legs.

  He brought his mouth to her right breast, kissing the upper curve in a series of light touchdown kisses, teasing her into a stupor of mind-blowing desire. He opened his mouth over her nipple, his tongue circling, tasting, teasing and then his teeth lightly grazed her, making her snatch in a breath. He licked and stroked her breasts in turn, his hands against her ribcage, thankfully holding her upright for she was sure she would have melted into a pool at his feet if he hadn’t.

  He led her to the bed and peeled away his underwear, hooking a finger in her lace knickers, sliding them down, down, down. Frankie stepped out of them and pressed her body against him, desperate to feel him from her breasts to her thighs.

  ‘Oh, God, I need you...’ Her voice came out as an urgent plea.

  ‘I need you too. So damn much.’ Gabriel eased her down on the bed and left her briefly to source a condom from his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. Frankie was shocked that she hadn’t once thought of protection as she was so caught up in the heat of the moment. He came back and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his gloriously aroused body. His abdomen was ridged with tight coils of muscle and a line of masculine dark hair that bloomed around his jutting manhood.

  He came down beside her, his hand resting on her belly so close to where she ached the most. His eyes roved over her body, his pupils wide and dark with desire. He lowered his head to her belly, his tongue gliding over her skin in a teasing caress that made her back arch like a cat being stroked. Frankie gasped when he separated her feminine folds with his tongue and she shrank away, tense and worried in case she wasn’t what he expected.

  He settled her with a hand on the curve of her hip. ‘Too much, cara? Tell me what works for you.’

  Hmm... What worked for her was a furtive fumble in the dark with her own fingers on the odd occasion when she felt the need. But there was no way she was going to tell him that. Frankie could feel her cheeks giving enough heat to solve the energy crisis of a small nation. ‘I just want you inside me...’ It was the truth after all. The other things could wait if she ever worked up the courage to allow him to pleasure her that way.

  He cupped her womanhood with a gentle hand. ‘Are you sure?’

  She took his hand and placed it on her right breast. ‘Make love to me. Please?’ Okay, so now she was begging but she was beyond caring. She was desperate. Desperate and wanton.

  His slow smile made something in her belly do a flip-turn. ‘With pleasure.’ He sat up to roll on the condom, coming back to her to stroke her from breast to thigh.

  Frankie caressed his back and shoulders, urging him with restless movements of her pelvis. He moved over her, resting his weight on his arms, taking care not to crush her, his thighs positioned with hers in a sexy tangle. He nudged her entrance and then groaned and surged forward as if propelled by a force out of his control. Frankie gasped out loud, shocked at the sharp stab of pain as her tender muscles tried to accommodate him.

  Gabriel jerked away with a horrified expression. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  Frankie bit her lip, unable to meet his gaze. ‘Erm, not really...’

  He tipped up her chin to meet her gaze, shock and dread reflected in his. ‘I thought you were ready. Was I rushing you? I’m so sorry I didn’t—’

  ‘You weren’t rushing me...’ Oh, God, did she have to spell it out?

  A silence stretched like an unexpected pause in a live musical performance.

  ‘Dio mio...’ Gabriel’s face paled, his mouth opening and closing, his throat rising and falling. ‘You were a...a virgin?’ He leapt off the bed as if she was carrying a deadly virus. He d
isposed of the condom, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as if he hoped to open them again and find the last few minutes hadn’t happened.

  Frankie sat up and wrapped her arms around her bent knees, suddenly embarrassed to be so naked and exposed. ‘You don’t have to make it sound like it’s a fatal disease.’

  He scraped a hand through his hair so roughly she heard it from across the room. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me? Why?’ His voice was harsh, raw with emotion, his expression still white-tipped with tension. With guilt. ‘I hurt you.’

  Frankie was close to tears and did everything she could to stop from giving in to them. Her throat closed over with tightness, her chest feeling like it was crushed under a chest of drawers. ‘I was embarrassed, that’s why.’

  A frown pleated his forehead. ‘What is there to be embarrassed about?’

  She rolled her eyes and pulled the bedcover over her nakedness. ‘I’m twenty-five years old, that’s what. Most girls lose their virginity in their teens. Go me for waiting another decade.’

  ‘Is there a reason you waited this long?’ His tone softened, his expression losing some of its tautness.

  ‘Not really...’ She lowered her gaze. ‘Well, maybe...’

  Gabriel picked up his trousers and stepped back into them. The sound of his zip coming back up ripped through the silence. He came and sat on the edge of the bed and took one of her hands in a gentle hold. ‘Do you feel comfortable talking about it?’

  Frankie drew in a long breath and slowly released it. ‘I was flirting with his guy when I was sixteen. I had a crush on him. A huge crush. We started dating but I overheard him telling a friend he was only dating me so he could crow about it later. I was a trophy to collect. Nothing more than a notch he wanted on his bedpost. I basically never dated again after that humiliation.’

  Gabriel caressed her hand in tender strokes. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you. Some guys can be complete and utter jerks.’ His fingers gently squeezed hers. ‘But now I feel like a jerk for hurting you. I would never have touched you if—’

  ‘But that’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell you,’ Frankie said. ‘I was worried you wouldn’t want to make love to me for being such a pariah. A pathetic misfit.’

  He placed his other hand on her shoulder. ‘No, cara. Don’t say such things.’ His voice was deep and rough around the edges. ‘Yes, I would’ve thought twice. Of course I would. But it agonises me to know I’ve hurt you. I feel deeply ashamed. If I could replay the last few minutes and do things differently I would.’

  Frankie turned her hand over in his, meeting his gaze. ‘We could press replay...couldn’t we?’

  He let out a sigh and his hands fell away from her. The wall had come back up. ‘We’ll go back to keeping our relationship platonic. It’s for the best.’

  ‘Platonic?’ Frankie coughed out the word. ‘Are you serious? Am I that useless in bed that you can’t bear to touch me?’ Her chin quivered and she sank her teeth into her lip.

  He let out a softly uttered curse and came back to sit next to her, taking her hands in his. ‘Oh, Frankie. What am I going to do with you?’ He pressed a light kiss to the middle of her forehead, his lips on her skin as light as air.

  She met his gaze with tears shimmering in her own. ‘You called me Frankie...’

  He gave a lopsided smile and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. ‘I did, didn’t I?’ His gaze went to her mouth and he drew in a shuddering breath and brought his eyes back to hers. ‘Listen to me, cara. This can’t happen between us. Not now. Not ever. It wouldn’t be right on my part to—’

  ‘But you said at the beginning it was up to me if our marriage was a proper one or not.’ Frankie clutched at his hand, close to begging. ‘You said you would be happy to oblige me. Weren’t those your exact words?’

  A dull flush rose along his cheekbones and a flicker of pain flashed like a struck match in his gaze. He removed her hand and rose from the bed, his hands going by his sides, clutched in fists as if he was fighting an internal battle not to reach for her. ‘Please don’t remind me how I spoke to you back then. I assumed you were experienced. That’s the only excuse I have for my behaviour.’

  ‘It’s not exactly something I felt I should broadcast.’ Frankie gave him a baleful look. ‘Hey, everybody. Guess what? I’m a flipping virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-five. How do you think that would go down?’

  Gabriel dragged his hand down his face, the rasping sound of his stubble against his palm loud in the silence. ‘I’m sorry. But I don’t think it would be right to take this any further. Today has been a big day, an unusual day, and it’s coloured your judgement. You’ll see I’m right in the morning.’

  Frankie got off the bed, taking the bedcovers with her, throwing him another glance. ‘We’re going on our honeymoon in the morning. Or have you changed your mind about that too?’

  He drew in a breath and released it in a gust. ‘No. We’ll go as planned to Marseille. The change of scene will do both of us good.’ He gave her one of his formal nods and left the room, closing the door with a firm resounding click.

  Frankie sat back down on the bed, her shoulders slumping on a sigh. Some honeymoon it was going to be...

  * * *

  Gabriel took a drink out to the terrace. He couldn’t bear to be in the villa in case his resolve slipped. There was a war going on inside him. A war between the good man he believed himself to be and the dark part of him that wanted to throw caution to the winds and march back upstairs and make passionate love to Frankie.

  But how could he now he knew she was a virgin? He felt sick at the thought of how he had hurt her. He had been so deeply shocked it had rendered him practically speechless. It had felt like someone had hit him with a plank. He had caused her pain. He, who had always prided himself on not being that sort of man. He was disgusted with himself that he hadn’t been more sensitive, that he hadn’t made her comfortable enough to tell him.

  It was another reminder of the different worlds they came from—her purity and innocence sullied, stained by his darkness. It was only right that he keep his hands off her now. Right and honourable. She had been keeping herself for someone. The someone who would marry her and give her what she wanted. What she deserved.

  A future. A family. For ever.

  He felt ashamed for not realising earlier. It all made perfect sense now in hindsight. The press had never reported anything about her love life. Her father had never mentioned a boyfriend. Frankie was known as an ice princess, cool and poised and classy, but that was because she’d been hurt. Shamed by a jerk of a guy who didn’t know how to treat a woman with respect.

  But was he any better?

  He had offered her a short-term marriage. He had given her the choice to make it normal or not. He’d tried to be fair. He’d spent a fortune on saving her from financial ruin. But had it been goodwill or greed? Greed for her. Greedy hunger for her delectable body.

  And now, with some sort of weird and twisted irony, he had to resist that gorgeous body. He had to resist the temptation of making love to his bride.

  On their honeymoon, no less.

  CHAPTER NINE

  GABRIEL BARELY SPOKE on the way to the airport in Milan from Lake Como other than to exchange a few polite pleasantries. He seemed disinclined to engage in conversation. And when he helped her into the car, it was as if he couldn’t bear to touch her, even by accident. His frown threatened to carve his forehead in two and his mouth was set in a grim line, a muscle in his jaw tensing on and off as if he was grinding his molars to powder.

  But after a while she could bear his taciturnity no longer. ‘Are you still angry with me?’

  ‘Not at you, cara.’ His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his tendons bulged and whitened. ‘I’m angry at myself. I can’t tell you how angry. I hurt you.’ He glanced at her. ‘Are you okay? I’m sorry. I shoul
d’ve asked well before now.’

  ‘I’m fine, perfectly fine. But you mustn’t blame yourself. I could’ve told you.’ She chewed at her lip and looked down at her hands in her lap. ‘I probably should’ve now that I think about it...’

  He reached for her nearest hand and gave it a quick squeeze. ‘No. This is not your fault.’ His voice was not much more than a rasp of sound. ‘I can never forgive myself for hurting you like that. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you.’

  ‘We’ve both assumed things about each other,’ Frankie said, thinking of how many times she had misjudged him.

  ‘I had already released the press announcement before we...before we went to dinner last night.’ There was a note of regret in his tone. ‘The press will probably be waiting for us at the airport. I can deal with them if you’d rather not say anything.’

  ‘Don’t you trust me to say the right thing to them about us?’

  ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.’ His expression was as grim as a gravedigger’s.

  Frankie gave a soft laugh. ‘Seriously, Gabriel. You need to lighten up. It’s the twenty-first century, you know. Anyone would think you’d committed a heinous crime.’

  There was a beat or two of silence.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—’ she began.

  ‘It’s fine.’ His tone was curt, the fleeting movement of his lips nowhere near a smile.

  He was right about the press. They were gathered in a group near the departure gate, phones and cameras at the ready.

  ‘Signor Salvetti, the news of your marriage to Francesca Mancini has stunned everyone. Tell us about your relationship,’ one female journalist said.

  Gabriel had his arm around Frankie’s waist and drew her closer to his side. ‘We have been friends for some years. We fell in love recently and decided to marry in private, out of respect for Francesca’s recent loss of her father.’

  ‘Francesca, can you tell us how he proposed?’ another female journalist asked.