Dante slowly relinquished her mouth, his eyes dark and slumberous as he took in her dazed expression, dilated eyes that seemed too large for her face, and something stirred inside him, prompting an involuntary thought…which he instantly dismissed.
With a slight smile he placed the soap in her hand.
‘Your turn.’
You have to be kidding.
‘I don’t think—’
He cupped her hand in his own and transferred it to his chest. ‘It’s simple.’
For him, maybe. Except for her it rapidly became something incredibly seductive as he guided her hand in a thorough exploration of his body, before presenting her with his back.
Was he aware her hand shook a little as she lathered hard musculature at his shoulders, his taut ribcage, tapered waist and tight butt?
She fervently hoped not.
He turned to face her, and passion shimmered from every pore…hot, deep and dark. On one level it frightened her…yet on another, she was held fascinated.
Then he lowered his head and captured her mouth, using his tongue to stroke her own, to plunder and savour as he enticed her response.
Just as it became almost too intense to handle, he lifted her high and slid her down onto his hardened length, absorbing her startled cry as he surged deep…only to experience shock when he sensed delicate membrane tear as he sank in to the hilt.
He stilled and, lifting his mouth from her own, he swore softly. ‘Madre di Dio. Why didn’t you tell me?’
His eyes were dark, so dark she felt almost afraid. ‘Would you have believed me if I had?’
Per meraviglia. Dante closed his eyes, then opened them again. ‘I’d have ensured more care.’ A longer, gentler initiation, for a start.
She attempted a light shrug, conscious only of a slight stinging sensation as he carefully lifted her free of him…heard him utter something almost beneath his breath, and knew she wouldn’t care for the translation.
He handed her the soap, and when she was done he used it on himself, then closed the water dial, filched a towel and wound it round his hips, before reaching for another.
Taylor held out her hand for it, and opened her mouth to protest as he began blotting the moisture from her body.
‘I don’t need for you to…’ she began, and left the remaining words unsaid beneath his intense look.
Minutes later she gasped as he swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking you to bed.’ He thrust back the covers and drew her down onto the mattress with him.
‘Dante—’
‘Trust me,’ he said gently, and lowered his head to fasten his mouth on her own in a kiss filled with languorous warmth as he teased and tasted until he felt her unbidden response.
Somehow her towel no longer offered a shield, and he trailed light, feathery kisses over her cheek to nuzzle the sensitive pulse beneath her ear, before tracing a path to the curve of her neck, lingered there…and sensed, rather than heard, the soft, almost inaudible groan in her throat.
His hand moved to cup her breast, and she gasped as he took the peak beneath thumb and forefinger and rolled it…before rendering a similar salutation to its twin.
Then he moved, savouring the soft fullness with his lips, nipping lightly until he reached the tautened peak, and she cried out as he took it in his mouth and suckled until she arched beneath his touch.
In a tortuously slow supplication he shifted his head and inched up the sensation with ease, aware of the way she restlessly moved her head from side to side before reaching out to clutch hold of his shoulders.
Not content, he slid low, tracing a path to her navel, lingering there, before trailing over her stomach to the soft, soap-scented hair curling into a V near the juncture of her thighs.
Taylor drew in a sharp breath and reached for his head as he moved lower, almost crying out loud as he sought and found the slightly swollen bud.
Surely he wouldn’t…but he did, laving it gently as it throbbed into vibrant life, and she bucked beneath the onslaught, unable to control the wildly curling sensation spiralling deep within.
It rose, increasing in tempo until she almost screamed as he drove her high…higher than she imagined it was possible to go, only to send her further, and he held her as she shattered.
He barely let her catch her breath before he sent her up again, using his wicked mouth in an intimate kiss that made her beg in a voice she didn’t recognise as her own, only that she desperately needed more…and she reached for him as he moved over her and held on as he eased his turgid length into her moist heat.
‘Look at me. Only me,’ Dante commanded gently, and he groaned as her vaginal muscles sheathed him…saw her expression of wonder as he eased in, rested there, then he began to move.
Her eyes went dark as she caught his rhythm, instinctively matching it, and he saw the moment she began the passionate spiral towards the brink, taking him with her as they climaxed together in an emotional orgasm so intensely acute, it was almost more than she could bear.
It seemed an age before the flood of sensation began to subside, and she didn’t protest as he reached for the bedcovers…or when he gathered her in close against him.
There wasn’t a word that came readily to mind to describe what she’d just experienced. Only intense joy and a feeling of complete fulfilment. Boneless, she added, knowing nothing came close.
‘Thank you.’
She felt the touch of his lips against her temple.
‘You’re welcome.’
Taylor shifted her hand until it lay over his heart, and the steady beat soothed her into a state of dreamless inertia, summoning sleep.
Taylor woke to the tantalising aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and she stretched, felt the unaccustomed pull of unused muscles combining with a delicious aching sensation deep inside, opened her eyes, glimpsed the unfamiliar suite…and remembered.
‘Good morning.’
She looked at the tall male robed figure standing in the aperture between the bedroom and adjoining lounge area, and stifled a yawn at the sound of Dante’s musing drawl.
‘Back at you,’ she managed, and pushed aside the bedcovers, only to pull them back again with the discovery she was wearing zilch. She had a robe somewhere…
‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
She took the robe he held out to her, and shrugged into it with as much decency as she could muster.
‘Modesty, Taylor?’ he teased, delighting in the soft pink colouring her cheeks. ‘When I’ve seen and tasted every inch of you?’
Yes, well…She spared him a telling glance. ‘I don’t possess your degree of laissez-faire.’
His husky laughter curled round her heartstrings and pulled a little. ‘Come join me for coffee. Breakfast will be here soon.’ He reached out a hand, and she took it, felt the warm clasp as he tugged her to her feet.
‘You slept well.’
It wasn’t a question, and she inclined her head in silent acquiescence. How could she not, when her body still sang from his touch?
Sex, she viewed logically, then qualified…very good sex, was one of nature’s aphrodisiacs.
Taylor moved into the en suite, completed her usual morning routine, caught the length of her hair into a pony-tail, then emerged to find a waiter transferring covered dishes onto the table.
It smelled divine, and she lifted covers as Dante signed the chit, sighing with pleasure as she saw the contents, and she settled comfortably in a chair.
Coffee, juice, a savoury mushroom omelette, thick slabs of toasted ciabatta bread, jams, fruit…it was a veritable feast.
‘Do you have any plans for the day?’
Dante took the chair opposite, and she quelled the sensation arrowing through her body at the sight of him. There was something vaguely primitive about him, the hard-planed features, and a mouth to die for.
Even thinking about that mouth and what it had wickedly achieved sent t
he blood racing through her veins.
Did he have any idea how he affected her?
Possibly…remembering her reaction to his touch.
At that moment he caught her gaze, glimpsed the thudding pulse at the base of her throat, the way she lifted her hand to instinctively hide it, and his lips curved into a smile.
‘What would you like to do?’
There were a few gifts she’d like to buy to take home to friends, and it would be nice just to wander and browse, pause for a gelato, maybe coffee. Enjoy lunch somewhere.
‘The San Lorenzo market?’
‘You want to play tourist?’
‘Would you mind?’
It would be something of a novelty. He couldn’t recall any of his female companions choosing the markets over exclusive boutiques.
He offered her a gleaming glance, and indicated breakfast. ‘Eat, then we’ll make an early start.’
It was almost ten when they emerged from the hotel into stunningly warm sunshine, and Taylor viewed the day ahead with a lightened heart.
Did it matter so much her marriage wasn’t a love match?
Don’t go there, a tiny voice advised.
Live for the day. Wasn’t that life’s sage motto? It was certainly one she intended to observe.
Dante found the market shopping experience fascinating. At least, Taylor’s approach to it brought an amused smile to his lips from time to time, as she browsed, examined, discarded…repeating the process until she found an item which appealed, whereupon her bargaining skills came into play.
He observed as vendors conversant in the English language gestured helplessly and pretended not to understand.
Taylor watched as Dante intervened, and she watched the visible change in the vendor’s demeanour as he handed over the item in exchange for euros.
‘Thank you.’ She opened her wallet. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Consider it a gift.’
She looked at him carefully, shook her head, and attempted to push notes into his hand.
A gesture which resulted in an eyebrow slanting in mocking cynicism. ‘You want to argue?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘Then don’t.’
A fellow tourist moved a little too close, jostling her, and Dante slid a protective arm along the back of her waist.
For someone who knew women, how their minds worked and the various ploys they employed in numerous guises…Taylor’s fierce independence amused him.
Any other woman of his acquaintance would expect him to pick up the tab for anything that took her whim…most often angle prettily for an expensive item.
Dante chose a small café for lunch, after which Taylor added to her purchases, and they walked, lingering in front of a church and some fine old buildings as he imparted their historical background.
It was a pleasant day, one she would hold close to her heart, and she didn’t protest when he indicated they return to their hotel as early evening began to descend.
‘I’ve booked a table for dinner at the hotel restaurant,’ Dante relayed as they entered their suite. ‘We’ll shower and change, then go down to the bar for a drink.’
Taylor turned towards him with a smile. ‘That’ll be nice.’ And looked at him in silent askance as he reached for her, angling his mouth over hers in a kiss that sent the blood fizzing in her veins.
Piercingly sweet, it held leashed restraint as he curved an arm down her back and pulled her in close.
She was conscious of an electric, pulsing ache deep inside, and she wound her arms round his neck and kissed him back, exulting in the wild almost pagan need that held her body in thrall.
He framed her face, tilting it, and used his thumbs to caress each side of her jaw before sliding his hands down to shape her shoulders, lingered a little, then he moved to cup her breasts, lightly fingering their tender peaks…and saw her eyes glaze.
With one easy movement he slipped his hands beneath the light top she wore, dispensed with it, then he released the clasp of her bra.
She was beautiful, her slender curves revealing admirable symmetry, and he skimmed her ribs…felt then, rather than saw, the faint, thickened scar, and comprehension flared as he traced it with a gentle finger.
Taylor lifted a hand in a defensive gesture, then let it drop as his eyes seared her own…dark, dangerous in their intensity.
‘Your assailant kicked you?’ A muscle bunched at the edge of his jaw as he imagined the impact. Enough, Dante recognised grimly, to ensure she’d suffered agonising pain. ‘Taylor?’
She closed her eyes as he brushed his lips to her temple. ‘More than once?’
‘Yes.’
‘The police caught and arrested him?’
He’d attacked her in a rage at being disturbed, then fled, disappearing from the house into the dark of night. ‘No.’
‘You saw his face?’
It would remain indelibly etched in her mind, and an involuntary shiver shook her slim form as the image appeared in stark relief. ‘Yes.’
‘Santo cielo.’ The imprecation was barely audible as he enfolded her close.
She wasn’t sure how long he held her, only that he did, and after a few long minutes she lifted her head, saw the darkness in his eyes, and her mouth curved into a smile.
‘How come I’m almost naked, and you’re not?’ she managed lightly, and caught his faint smile as he let her move to arm’s length.
‘Be my guest.’
Undress him? He had to be kidding.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Pity.’ He lifted a hand and pressed a finger to her lower lip. ‘We could always order in.’
‘And miss playing dress-up and mingling with fellow guests?’ She moved away, then looked back over one shoulder. ‘See you in ten.’
He was tempted to follow her, and almost did. Except his mobile rang, and he checked caller ID, saw it was an international call and took it, responding in rapid French before ending the communication.
Dante thrust a hand into his trouser pocket and crossed to the window. A problem requiring his personal attention, and one which would involve flying to Paris on Tuesday to attend a meeting.
He entered the en suite as Taylor stepped out from the shower cubicle, and he arched an eyebrow as she quickly reached for a towel and wound it round her damp form.
It was interesting to see how easily she became flustered on occasion. Most women of his acquaintance would reveal rather than conceal, and delight in providing provocation.
Something primitive stirred deep inside, and he shot her a teasing glance as he discarded his robe.
‘You could always wash my back.’
‘I don’t think it’s your back you have in mind.’
His husky laughter brought swift colour to her cheeks as she averted her eyes from his splendid, very naked body.
Except he reached out, caught hold of her chin and dropped a brief, hard kiss on her mouth. ‘Don’t ever change, cara.’
Then he stepped into the shower cubicle, turned on the water dial and began spreading soap over his chest without casting her so much as another glance.
Taylor gathered up the clothes she’d worn and retreated into the bedroom to don underwear, then she dressed in a stunning black evening trouser suit, slid her feet into stilettos, fastened a diamond pendant at her nape, added matching earrings, and slid on a wide gold bracelet that had belonged to her mother.
Make-up didn’t take long, just a light moisturiser, a light dusting of bronze powder, lipstick and a touch of eye-shadow and mascara.
She was about to twist her hair into a careless knot atop her head when Dante emerged into the room and began pulling on trousers.
Taylor met his gaze via mirrored reflection, watching as he shrugged into the shirt and began tending to the buttons.
It took mere minutes to fix her hair and fasten the knot in place with a strategically placed clasp, then she gathered up an evening bag, checked the content
s and preceded him from their suite.
The restaurant immediately adjoined the hotel and resembled a large conservatory built in panelled tinted glass.
Definitely wow factor, Taylor silently accorded, noting the gleaming marble floor, tables set with white linen and bracketed by comfortable leather chairs.
The maître d’ greeted them with due reverence reserved for the élite, then personally led them to their table and saw them seated.
One flick of his fingers, and a wine steward appeared and solicitously enquired Dante’s choice.
‘You’ve been here before.’ Taylor sent him a musing smile as the wine steward disappeared.
‘Occasionally.’
A waiter presented two beautiful leather embossed menus, made a few suggestions before retreating to tend guests at another table.
Taylor chose a starter, followed it with another as a main and declined dessert, while Dante elected for a starter, a pasta dish, and selected a platter of cheeses and fruit.
The wine, the food…both were superb, and it was pleasant to enjoy the excellent service, the ambience.
It provided a lovely way in which to end the day, and she said as much as Dante signed the bill.
‘My pleasure.’
Just the thought of the touch of his mouth on hers brought her body alive, and she longed for the confidence to seek his possession, to tease, tantalise and entice his response. Drive him wild…and have him reciprocate.
Instead, she walked at his side in companionable silence, preceded him into their suite, and proceeded to undress, remove her make-up and the clasp from her hair.
Then she pulled on her sleep top, secured her cotton sleep trousers, and slid beneath the bedcovers to join the man who rested at arm’s length beside her.
Seconds later he extinguished the bed-side lamp and the room was plunged into darkness.
Then she felt him move and he gathered her in against him, and nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder.
It was early dawn when he teased her into wakefulness, then made slow, evocative love with such gentleness it almost brought her undone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS late afternoon when the four-wheel-drive drew to a halt in front of the Montepulciano villa, and almost as soon as Dante switched off the engine the front door opened and Ben bounded out to greet them.
The Italian's Ruthless Marriage Command (HQR Presents) Page 12
