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Siena wanted the ground to swallow her whole and she looked down.
For a long moment nothing happened, and then Andreas conceded, ‘It might not have been obvious to some men…but I knew.’
Siena flushed. She could imagine the kind of man her father would have wanted her to marry—some old lecher from the Italian Middle Ages—and just how that scenario might have played out.
She stubbed her toe against the luxurious carpet of his bedroom. ‘Yes, well, I just wanted to assure you that it doesn’t change anything.’
Siena looked up warily, very aware of Andreas’s naked chest and long powerful legs. The excuse for a towel that barely covered his intense masculinity. Unbelievably, Siena could feel herself clench inwardly at the thought of how he’d surged up and into her…how it had felt when he’d slid in and out, taking her higher and higher.
Too late she realised her mistake in coming here like this and turned to leave, but quick as a flash Andreas inserted himself between her and the door.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Siena gulped. ‘To my room. To bed.’
Andreas smiled and it was wicked. ‘There’s a perfectly good bed here.’
Siena blanched. As responsive as her body was proving to be, she didn’t in all honesty think she could take a repeat so soon. She’d stung when she’d lowered herself into the bath and she ached all over.
Reading her mind, Andreas said, ‘Don’t worry, I think it’s too soon—but there are other ways of achieving the same result.’
He took Siena by the hand and led her unresisting—much to her disgust—to the bed. He sat down and pulled her between his legs. His towel parted and when Siena looked down she could see the dark thatch of hair and his body stirring and hardening.
Andreas was undoing her robe and then pulling it open. Siena felt absurdly shy and tried to stop him, but he was too strong. It was off her shoulders, falling down her arms to the ground, and she was naked.
Andreas’s gaze was fixed on her breasts and Siena could feel them grow, the tips hardening, tingling. She wanted to groan. How could she be so affected when he just looked at her?
With his hands clamped around her waist, Andreas brought her even closer and lavished her breasts with attention, licking and suckling until Siena wanted to cry out. The first time round it had all been happening so fast she hadn’t had a chance to draw breath, drowning in sensations before she could really register them.
Now Andreas was conducting a slow, sensual torture, and Siena found it almost overwhelming. With a smooth move he caught her just as her legs threatened to buckle and laid her on the bed. He whipped aside his towel so that he was naked.
Siena said brokenly, ‘I thought you said—’
He put a finger to her mouth and said, ‘Shh, I did.’
Siena felt something scary erupt in her chest, because in that moment she realised that she trusted Andreas. He wouldn’t hurt her, or push her further than she could go. But now his mouth was on hers and his hands were moulding and cupping her breasts and Siena gave up any coherent thought.
By the time his hand reached between her legs and sought where she felt so hot and wet Siena’s hips were rolling impatiently. She wanted Andreas to take her again, soreness be damned. But he wouldn’t.
Almost crying with frustration, she felt him move down her body and replace that hand with his mouth. He’d touched her like this before, but now it felt much more intimate. Siena was aware of how wanton she must look—legs stretched apart, hands clutching at Andreas’s head, breathing fast, heart thumping painfully.
Andreas found her sensitised clitoris and flicked it with his tongue, while thrusting two fingers into her clasping body. This was what Siena wanted and needed. Her back arched and her hips all but lifted off the bed as she became some primal being, focused solely on Andreas’s mouth and fingers as they made that tension within her coil so tight that she shouted out as he finally tipped her over the edge.
Siena seemed to float for a long time on a blissful haze of sated lethargy before she opened her eyes and realised that Andreas was lowering her into her own bed and pulling the covers over her. He’d carried her here, after pleasuring her senseless.
Siena quickly clamped her eyes shut again, not wanting to see the expression on his face and not liking how ambiguous her feelings were about his putting her back in her own bed. Eventually she heard his footfall and the sound of her door clicking shut. Her eyes opened again, seeing nothing for a moment in the darkened gloom.
Her whole body tingled and hummed with pleasure…and yet Andreas hadn’t sought his own rele
ase. Siena turned over and looked unseeingly into the dark. She had no frame of reference for this kind of a relationship, but she hadn’t expected Andreas to be a selfless lover.
Her head felt tangled and jumbled. She’d somehow naïvely expected that a physical relationship with Andreas would be something she could ultimately rise above, remain immune to, even if she fell apart slightly. She felt anything but immune now. She felt as if she’d been turned inside out and reconfigured and—terrifyingly—she wasn’t sure if she even knew who she was any more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Siena was in one of Andreas’s chauffeur-driven cars, being transported to a private airfield. She’d found a cheerful Mrs Bright in the kitchen that morning, and she had directed Siena’s attention to a note left for her by Andreas.
Siena had been inordinately relieved not to have to face him again so soon. She’d read the note.
