‘Do you doubt my word,Contessina?’
Her heart dropped out of her body. She bit into her lip, wishing that didn’t sting so much. It wasn’t until that moment, she realised how much she wanted this to happen, not because of a deal, but because of something between them. What a fantasist, she thought with impatience. There was no way on earth he’d be looking at her in such a manner if she hadn’t wedged this requirement into their negotiations.
‘No, Massimiliano.’ How good she’d got at saying his name. The syllables rolled off her tongue now, almost as though she’d been born to speak it.
‘Good girl,’ he said, leaning closer and whispering in her ear. ‘Because when we are alone, I am going to strip you naked and make you mine, until you are screaming with pleasure. Is that what you want?’
Heat flooded her body, pooling between her legs. She gasped at the suggestive, intense nature of his statement, of the desire in his voice, the raw sensuality of that promise. She pulled back to look at him. His dark eyes were glittering when they met hers, and her stomach seemed to loop in on itself.
‘Is that what you want?’ There was that command again, that easy authority.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Beneath the table, his hand curved over her knee, brushing her through the satin of her dress. She trembled, lifting a hand to his shirt and clinging on for dear life.
‘Let’s not remain here much longer,’ he said, eyes shifting over her face then landing on her lips and lingering there. She pressed her teeth into her lower lip, her body riding a shock wave of need.
She nodded her agreement.
Right on cue, a waiter appeared with a small, perfectly decoratedmillefoglie, with delicate layers of pastry and sweet, vanilla-scented cream.
‘Time to cut the cake,’ Massimiliano murmured, and she was aware of people in the restaurant removing their phones and taking photographs of them as she reached over, cheeks flushed pink, to slice through the confection. The restaurant erupted in spontaneous applause, and then, perhaps for the sake of those watching, perhaps for the sake of tradition, or maybe just because of the heat that was flaring between them, Massimiliano pulled her against him and kissed her, just as he had in the limousine. Hard and desperate. Mouths mashing together, tongue invading her senses until she couldn’t think straight and her whole body felt weak, propped up only by his proximity.
She wanted to moan into him. She wanted to climb into his lap. To drag him from the restaurant then and there and start the night ahead. But he pulled away, eyes staring down at her, chest moving with the force of his breath, as the other patrons continued to clap and cheer. Massimiliano then was himself once more, turning and giving a brief wave, before he focused his attention on their table of five, one arm wrapped carelessly around Amelia’s shoulders for the rest of the night.
Chapter Eight
FROM THE MOMENTshe slipped into the back of his limousine, her nerves were stretched on tenterhooks, her insides turning to electric shocks and jelly. She didn’t even realise she was fidgeting with her fingers until he reached out and put his hand over hers.
‘There is no need to be nervous.’
She turned to face him, blinking, shaking her head. She wasn’t nervous. That was a far too one-dimensional way to describe what she was feeling. It was an explosion of noise and feeling, an immersion of excitement, anxiety, adrenaline, disbelief and regret. What if this was a mistake? What if sleeping with him made everything complicated, or was just a total let-down? What if…what if…what if…?
‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,’ he added.
She shook her head again. ‘It’s not that.’ And it wasn’t. The moment he said those words, every cell in her body fought against them, rebelling against the idea of him removing the possibility of this. ‘I want to do it. I just want it to be over.’
His lips quirked in an expression of cynicism. ‘That is not something I’ve ever heard.’
She flushed to the roots of her scalp, mortified by the gauche comment. ‘You know what I mean. I just don’t want to be a virgin any more. I’m ready to do this, and be…me, on the other side.’
‘You’ll be the same person.’
‘Yes, and no.’
He reached over then, brushing his thumb over her cheek, eyes hooked to hers. ‘Have you never been tempted,Contessina, by a man’s touch?’
‘I told you,’ she said, voice wobbly. ‘I just didn’t have the time for dating.’
His expression shifted infinitesimally. ‘That’s not what I asked.’
Her brow furrowed.
‘Have you never looked at a man and wanted more? Have you never felt that spark of heat that is your body’s way of telling you there’s something more here? That it should be explored and enjoyed?’
Her mouth went dry at the sensual question, at the heat he so easily invoked. ‘Sex has been the last thing on my mind.’ Her words sounded defensive, cold, even, when she was anything but.
‘And you are sure you would not rather wait, until you meet someone who can offer you something other than this?’
