Mail-Order Prince In Her Bed (Silhouette Desire)

by Kathryn Jensen

  “I just thought when you showed me how a man made love, it would be more like a—” She struggled with words. “Well, more like one of my college professors lecturing me. You know, standard anatomy stuff.”

  “You would prefer that?”

  She didn’t even have to think about it. “No! But it might feel safer, if you can understand.”

  “You’re afraid of me?”

  “Afraid of something.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “I’m not sure whether it’s you or something I might find out about myself that I wouldn’t like.”

  He observed her for a moment then picked up her glass and brought it to her lips, and she obediently sipped. “Do you see what you just did?” he asked.

  “I took a drink.”

  “Exactly. I offered you something. You decided whether or not you wished to accept, then you tasted.”

  “So?”

  “This is how it should be between a man and a woman.” His voice sounded richly musical; it mesmerized her. “The man offers the woman something new and, hopefully, delicious to taste, to see if she enjoys it. If she doesn’t, she simply tells him, and he will stop and try something else. If she decides she cannot indulge at all, one word from her ends it.”

  She smiled at him, charmed by the ease with which he explained an act that had always seemed so confusing and risky to her. Perhaps that was one reason she’d saved herself for a husband. That fear every woman knew in her immortal soul. The terror that the person she trusted with her body might abuse the power he held over her, and she’d be physically as well as emotionally hurt.

  But Antonio had already proven he could control whatever urges might assail him. Still she had so many questions. She drummed her freshly polished nails on the countertop. “This stopping whenever the woman says so. Is it at times, for a man, a bit…uncomfortable?”

  He exploded in a full-bodied, ripe laugh. His eyes dancing with humor, he released her. “Dear lady, you have no idea.”

  “Then why—”

  Touching two wide fingers across her lips, he silenced them. “Because it is only right. Because making love can’t be perfect unless both man and woman are relaxed, trust each other, and seek to please their partner as much as they want pleasure for themselves.”

  Maria reached for her glass and, taking a sip of champagne, thought about this for a moment. Before she knew it, when she tipped up the stem nothing more came out. She set the glass down firmly. When she looked up out of a haze of pleasant anticipation, Antonio was putting on his coat.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to my hotel.”

  “Why? Oh, please stay! Really,” she begged. “I want you to stay.”

  “If I do,” he said, “I might not be able to follow my own advice. Do you understand?”

  “Stay,” she said. Maria opened her arms to him.

  It took Antonio a moment to decide. “No more talking.” He removed his coat and flung it across a chair as he strode across the room toward her. “I will show you. Remember what I said, though. Just a word from you, and I will stop. I will protect your virginity. That we will not jeopardize. It is as precious as you, cara.”

  Antonio had already admitted to himself that he must be insane. This was a dangerous game, and all in the name of what? Educating a naive young woman? Hardly. He was gratifying his own needs. Needs that hadn’t been satisfied in two agonizing years.

  Tonight he felt alive!

  Tonight he was reacting to a woman with a fierce lust that told him he’d returned from hell. At least, temporarily. Maria’s sweet innocence, her healthy, glowing face and trusting gaze beckoned to him, drawing him out of the darkness. Being with her these two days had been like swimming up through the ocean’s suffocating depths toward the light, to take his first real breath in years.

  To think he’d offered to demonstrate the act of love. To think he’d had the audacity to promise such a thing to this young woman! Yet, by doing so he had been saved.

  And who knew? It might last. If he kept his promise to her, he might wake tomorrow morning to fly back home as a whole man again.

  Of course, he couldn’t allow himself the ultimate pleasure, but he could revel in hers. Hadn’t he already given her a taste of that delicious moment? Hadn’t she already responded to him? And his hormones had gone gleefully along for the ride.

  “Antonio? Is this all right?” Maria patted the couch cushion beside her.

  “No,” he said, startled to find she’d made her way across the room to the sofa while he’d been lost in his own thoughts. He strode to her, scooped her up into his arms, excited by the challenge at hand. He felt a thousand miraculous cravings, emotions he hadn’t experienced for so very long. “We are going to your bed…to better simulate the most common setting. Where is—?”

  “That door,” she said, pointing.

  He carried her toward the bedroom, dipping to turn the knob. When he stepped through, he stopped and scowled at the narrow mattress.

  “What?” she asked. “It’s a super twin.”

  “It will do,” he said with determination. But what he wouldn’t have given now for his sprawling feather bed back at the villa. He set her down on top of the bedspread then perched beside her.

  “Should I take this off?” she asked, indicating the nearly transparent flow of silk over her body.

  He shuddered at the delicious thought. “Shhh,” he told her. “No talking now, unless it is to say that you like or do not like. Agreed?”

  “Si,” she said, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

  He slowly undressed her but did not remove his own clothing. He feared that doing so literally would be his undoing. If she so much as touched him, as aroused as he was, he would be unable to control himself.

  When she lay naked before him, he began by caressing her breasts. They were small, lovely. When she lay on her back they melted against her body. He spread his palms over them, warming them, and the nipples rose to tight pink buds. He leaned down and kissed one, then the other.

  She sighed.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Grinning, he chose one breast then opened his mouth over it and drew it gently between his teeth and softly nibbled. She arched her back beneath him. He suckled a little, filling his mouth with her delicate breast, running his tongue around and across her nipple.

  Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, and he waited for the push that would signal him to stop. But the push never came.

  Another yes.

  He moved to her other breast and she began to squirm beneath him. Again he waited, but the sounds from her throat were deep, husky, redolent with pleasure. His own pleasure deepened. An engine throbbed within him.

  His hands moved down the sides of her body, as his mouth trailed kisses down the center line of her stomach. He gripped her hips and pressed them up so that he could slide his palms beneath them and cup their fullness. His lips reached the soft pale fur between her legs, and he could sense her tensing, unsure of what he might do next. He was beginning to read her, and he felt sure he was treading the fine line that edged her trust.

  He ached to run the tip of his tongue down the velvety trail between her soft thighs, to taste just once the sweet essence of her. But that was not something for Maria, the virgin. That would have to wait for another man who, if he treated her well, would be allowed to sample her luscious nectar.

  His job was to start her in the right direction, show her the basics, and he would stick to that.

  Slowly, painfully, he lifted his head until it was even with hers. He captured her eyes with his, held them, told her without words to concentrate upon all he was doing for her. She seemed to understand and didn’t break their locked gaze.

  Supporting her with one hand still behind her hips, he brought his other hand in front of her, dropping it down to her thighs. He smoothed his palm down one, then up slowly between them, lightly resting his hand over the soft curls of feminin
e fur.

  He stayed there, not forcing, not probing. Just waiting for her answer to his unspoken question: Will you let me in?

  She breathed between her lips and they quivered. He kissed her softly. Again the question.

  She bit her bottom lip and looked at him for a long moment. Then, at last, she relaxed the muscles in her lovely legs, and her thighs parted just a few inches.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him. And he slid his fingers up to touch her.

  Gently, so gently, he stroked her. He watched her eyes grow distant, losing their focus, then slowly close.

  Her eyelids fluttered.

  Her breathing grew deeper, faster.

  Her lips pressed together then pouted and opened on a soft gasp, then another. Her head fell back, and still he stroked her delicate moist center, flicking his finger over the tiny nubbin that guarded her precious womanhood, circling the tight orifice that would have delighted him to be the first to enter. But always moving away from it before temptation overwhelmed him.

  Still, as he held her, pleasuring her, counting her climaxes as she writhed in his arms, then relaxed, only to tense again with mounting pleasure, his own needs became so urgent he couldn’t swear that he’d be able to keep his promise. He could so very vividly imagine the heat of her closing around him, almost feel how welcoming that plunge into her would be.

  He closed his eyes and held her tightly, moving his fingers deftly to grant her one final explosion of radiant delight. When he could no longer restrain the fire that seared his loins, he turned his face against her breasts with a groan, squeezed his eyes shut, and fought the raging beast within him that demanded satisfaction.

  “Antonio?” Maria’s voice came, whisper soft, from beneath him.

  “Si, cara?” he asked weakly.

  “I think…I think now I know what it feels like.”

  “Good.”

  “You can probably get off me now.”

  “Si.”

  But it took every ounce of his remaining strength to do so. He looked at her—sparkling eyes, dazzling smile, pink cheeks vibrant with energy. How does she do it? he wondered, feeling as if he’d been knocked down by a Mack truck and dragged fifty feet…but liked it!

  “So, is that sort of all of it? I mean, it was great,” she clarified. “I never thought it would be so much fun. No. More than just fun. The feelings, they were marvelous! I’ve never felt so tingly all over, every inch of my body!”

  He opened one eye to look at her warily. “There is more.”

  “Just as good, I hope.”

  “Even better.” He gently traced the line of her jaw with one finger. Such a pity he’d promised not to… But he had, and he would stand by that pledge. “But much later. With your husband.”

  She looked at him with concern. “Are you all right? You look a little…that didn’t bore you too much, did it? I mean, you didn’t get much out of it for all that work. Maybe we could—”

  Antonio pushed himself up off the bed with great effort. He could feel himself beginning to revive. He’d have to leave immediately, before his body showed her exactly how far from bored he’d become. Even now, gazing down at her naked on the bed, flushed with her first climaxes and the newness of lovemaking, he could barely control the rush of heat mounting again.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t stay any longer,” he said lamely. “Early plane in the morning.”

  “I understand,” she said softly. “You be careful getting back to your hotel. It’s late.” She blinked up at him, somehow managing to still look the innocent despite the ways she’d just allowed him to touch her.

  On final impulse he reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, kissed her fingertips fervently. “Be careful with your heart, Maria,” he whispered. “Wait for the right man.”

  “I will,” she murmured, her eyes bright and alive and unforgettably beautiful.

  Then he forced himself to turn away.

  Four

  The nightmare returned with a vengeance in the early morning hours. As so many times before, he relived the darkest day of his life. The day the carabinieri came to his door and told him that there had been an accident.

  With the memory of past pain, came his body’s usual reaction. Crying out in agony, Antonio rolled to his side in the hotel bed, clutching at his chest, helpless to fight off the spasms. All he could do was wait for it to pass.

  He had been insane with grief for months. Only much later had he accepted that Anna was gone. She would never come back to him, to their little son, to the beautiful villa she’d so loved in the wild, rocky land of Apulia.

  With her had gone all desire to love or to be loved. The sight of other women no longer moved him. He stopped dreaming of Anna coming to his bed. He never wished for a substitute lover. He ceased to feel like a man.

  Antonio felt as dead to the world as she, at least in spirit.

  Breaking a cold sweat, he rolled again to stare at the white plaster swirls in the ceiling above the bed. The clawing ache in his chest that made it seem impossible to breathe wasn’t imagined. It felt as if a bus had parked on his ribcage, then started spinning its huge wheels.

  His physician had told him the attacks though intense, sometimes lasting for hours, were the result of severe muscle spasms caused by emotional stress. They would pass with time, he promised. Meanwhile, the pain seemed like small penance for having not gone with Anna that day in the car.

  So now, he stared at the ceiling, lying flat on his back, waiting for the crushing pressure to recede. He tried to think of pleasant things to speed the process—his son; the groves of gnarled, rusty-leaved trees bearing a new crop of olives; a bountiful harvest; a fine glass of wine to accompany a rosemary-scented lamb roast.

  None of the usual strategies worked today.

  Then he thought of Maria.

  Closing his eyes Antonio let himself drift back along the two days they’d shared. Days during which he’d thought of nothing but pleasing her. He felt the excitement return.

  With the memory of her laugh and the vision of her pretty features, the bands of taut muscle across his chest began to unknot. He lay still for several more minutes, half expecting the tension to return. He remembered the way her flesh had yielded to his touch, how her eyes had widened in astonishment and delight the first time she’d climaxed.

  He began to breathe without discomfort.

  After another ten minutes, the pain was completely gone. Antonio sat up in bed and frowned.

  This was both good and bad, this power the American woman had over him. Good that the pain left, enabling him to function again. Bad because he had bid her farewell and expected never to see her again.

  She had affected him deeply despite his vow to protect himself from feeling more for any woman than virilita dictated. For the first time since his great loss, he felt like himself again. A man. Capable of great passion—for his land, his crops, for his son and even for women.

  But he feared as much as welcomed these sensations. What if he found a way to keep Maria physically close to him and, as unlikely as it now seemed, she should become emotionally important to him? He could never survive the anguish of losing another so close to him.

  Love was a curse!

  But perhaps he might limit his investment in this woman, just as he would in all others. He might steer himself back through the motions of being a man, to satisfy the urges he’d felt with Maria last night. That was very different from love. That was a simple physical act.

  Not love…lust! A smile gently tugged at the corners of his lips as he stood up and walked toward the bathroom. He was definitely in a sweet state of lust for Maria McPherson. A situation his body seemed only too eager to prolong.

  But, he thought, if he left the U.S. and never saw Maria again, would he ever recapture these feelings with another woman? Ever be able to breathe without pain? To smile and laugh again? To find pleasure in a woman’s body.

  He had no choice but to re
turn to Carovigno. This left only one option.

  He must find a way to bring Maria back with him to Italy, at least temporarily.

  Maria awoke feeling like a new woman. This was what all the big fuss is about!

  Sex is a wonderful thing! she mused cheerfully.

  It wasn’t messy or embarrassing, painful or dirty-feeling. At least it hadn’t seemed so with Antonio. She sat up in bed, energized, stifling a self-satisfied giggle. Feeling just a smidge wicked as she mused that she wouldn’t mind “learning” all over again with him!

  There was only one problem with that, aside from the fact she might have to stop fooling herself by insisting she was saving herself for her husband-to-be. Antonio had returned to Italy.

  Carovigno, he’d said. A very small town in a remote part of southern Italy, which was a good-sized country. Geographically, she couldn’t even picture where the place might be. Naples was the only southern Italian city she was familiar with.

  Sad at the thought, Maria sulked for another twenty minutes then tossed back the sheets and marched herself into the bathroom, unwilling to let any man ruin her weekend. Weekends were golden when every workday was filled with tension.

  She would go shopping. According to her neighbor, Sarah Brady, an expert on the subject, the perfect remedy for forgetting a man was a serious day’s bargain hunting.

  Maria drove to the mall and visited her favorite department stores and outlet shops, but none of them seemed very interesting after the places Antonio had taken her.

  As the day moved along, all she could think about was him. Sure, they’d been together less than forty-eight hours, but she’d loved every minute of his exciting companionship. It was more than that. She felt as if they’d connected in a special way, although she couldn’t define what that might be.

  On a whim, she drove into Georgetown to the pottery shop he had taken her to, and spent over an hour admiring the beautiful terra-cotta and hand-painted porcelain. But of course she bought nothing. The prices were as high as she remembered.