She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“That I am about to come, and I do not wish to. Not like this.”
Pride mixed with confusion. “But…why not?”
He shook his head once.
“That’s not fair,” she said, without waiting for him to answer. “You touch me and I fall apart. Why can’t I do the same to you?”
He stared at her for a long beat and her heart leapt into her throat. She wanted to drop to her knees, pull his boardshorts down and take him in her mouth. When he kissed her intimately, it was the best thing she’d ever felt; she wanted to give that to him. But it wasn’t just about giving; she had been fantasising about it. Imagining it, daring herself to act on that impulse.
Before she could lower herself, though, he caught her face in his hands and held her there, staring into her eyes for so long that the world seemed to stop spinning.
“Are you hungry, Allegra?”
She moved closer to him, wrapping her hands around his back, melding their bodies together perfectly. “Starving.” The tone in his voice should have left him in little doubt that she wasn’t talking about food.
“Good,” he responded with a deep husk. “Then come with me.”
In the kitchen,he was glad for the distraction of food. Of raw ingredients they could turn into lunch, a simple recipe that the housekeeper had taught him when he was a boy of eight or nine. And for the most part, he ignored the disappointment on Allegra’s face. The way she kept sneaking glances at him, as if to ascertain if he wanted her like she wanted him.
If only she knew.
The darkness was still there—a constant part of him—but it was no longer the ebb and flow of his mood. He was in controlagain. And they were far enough from his grandfather’s island, from Paolo and Dante, to breathe, and know that out here, Allegra was safe.
Not that he’d feared for her physically, but from the poison of Paolo’s hatred.
The truth of that poison? The fact that the other man had every reason to hate him, and Luca didn’t want Allegra to see him that way.
Not once in his entire life had he shied away from his actions. Not once had he apologised for them. He was who he was, by necessity and need. He accepted that. He faced his flaws head on. He took responsibility for his choices. Marco had died because of his command decision. And Paolo hated him because all his life, Luca had set out to win, at any cost.
But Paolo was the same. Less effective, but just as motivated. And with beautiful, trusting, innocent Allegra in his midst, Luca didn’t want to think about what Paolo would have said and done. How he might have turned Allegra against him.
“What next?”
She drew his attention back to the kitchen. Allegra had chopped the onion and garlic and was standing there staring at him. He stared back. Swallowed. Wanted with the strength of a thousand suns.
“Oil,” he murmured, wishing he hadn’t put a stop to what she was doing. Wishing he’d just let things between them play out.
He pulled out a pan and put it on the stove, added oil then moved to take the chopping board. But it brought him close to Allegra, and when their fingers brushed, he had to bite back a groan. Why was he tormenting them both like this? Why was he keeping them both in purgatory?
Because you know you don’t deserve her.
He ignored the voice. Who was he to deny her what she wanted? He’d been honest with her from the beginning. He’dtold her the truth about what he wanted, who he was. And she’d chosen him. She wanted him.
“Luca.” She clicked her fingers in front of his face. “You’re a thousand miles away.”
“Si. Lo so.”Was that his voice? Deep and raw, edged with something he barely recognised. He reached to his right and flicked off the stove. Stared at her. Stared at her like a drowning man might a life raft.
“Allegra…”
She sucked in a deep breath, and then he was reaching for her, food forgotten, every reason not to do this long behind them, as he lifted her and set her down on the edge of the bench, standing in the triangle of her legs and kissing her long and hard, his tongue duelling with hers as his fingers tangled frantically in her hair, keeping her head pressed to his, trying not to lose too much of himself, even when he knew that was going to be impossible.
“Cristo,” he moaned into her mouth, as his hands curved beneath her and kneaded her bottom, lifting her and pressing her closer against him. Her hands matched his, wrapping around his back and sliding into the waistband of his shorts, pressing to his ass until he was no longer a man, just a collection of needs and instincts, driven by his body’s cravings. He lifted her easily and her legs wrapped around his waist, gripping him tight, so she could keep kissing him and he could kiss her right back, as he strode through the living area and into the master bedroom. Light spilled through the windows, casting the bed in gold, like magic.
Magic for her first time.
He pushed that thought from his mind. He didn’t want to think of this as significant. No more significant than sex with anyone, at any time, but as he stripped out of his shorts and brought his body over hers, he knew that was a lie. Allegra wasdifferent. Completely, utterly unique in how she affected him. Danger pounded through his veins as he recognised the risk here—of wanting more than was wise, more than he wished. And knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
