Wife By Force: International Billionaires II: The Italians (14 page)

But he did. Obviously.

And she wanted him.

Even though she was scared.

Scared of being a virgin. Scared of her inability to match this man’s sexual prowess. Scared of what he’d say if he figured out her secret.

He slipped between her legs and stared into her eyes as he rubbed himself against the softest part of her body. His hands landed by her hips on the stone steps. His shoulder muscles flexed and Lara grabbed onto him, moving her fingers on his hot skin, feeling his muscles as they relaxed, then flexed again.

“Kiss me,” he commanded.

She stared into his face, the brightness of his eyes, the long blade of nose, and then the firmness of his upper lip, the surprising lushness of his lower. She could do this. She could seduce him. Pushing away her fears, she moved her hands to his neck, pulling his willing head down and pressing her lips to his.

His big body went rigid and the jump of his erection slid along her inner thigh.

He muttered an expletive before nibbling on her lips. Arching into his broad chest, she reveled in the brush of his coarse hair against her stomach and the beginning of her breasts above her swimsuit.

His tongue slid boldly into her mouth, taking and plundering, sipping and sucking. He tasted of the same spicy mix of lust and desperation—as if he would die if the kiss ended. The kiss called to her, begged her, seduced her. Her tongue slipped across his lower lip and did its own plundering, dancing across the smooth surface of his teeth, and dipping into the depths of his mouth.

“
Molto bella
,” he murmured on her lips. His broad hand moved to cup her breast, rubbing a thumb across the hard crest of her nipple.

Then he stilled and cursed.

“The food.” Exasperation ran through his voice.

She jerked upright and pulled away, instantly registering the pounding at the front door. With one last glance, he waded through the water to the steps, climbing from the pool with a swift, sure move, giving her an eye-popping view of taut male butt and broad, muscled back. Wrapping a plush gold towel around his waist, he glanced at her, his black gaze glittering with intensity. “I’ll take care of this in record time.”

“All right,” she croaked.

Dipping her head underwater, Lara struggled to control the heat coursing through her bloodstream. But the only thing she could think about was going back to where they’d been a minute ago and bringing it to its full conclusion. Pulling her brain out of her lust for a moment, she made herself a promise.

She was going to be a partner in this.

She was going to show Dante she was his equal in every way, including sexually.

She might be a virgin, yet she was more than enough woman for this man.

Lifting her head from the water, she heard the deep tones of her husband and another male. The clank of a trolley’s wheels rumbled onto the veranda and the clack and clatter of various dishes announced an elaborate meal.

“The food will stay warm in the servers for more an hour, sir.” The lilt of a Caribbean accent softened the attendant’s voice.

“
Grazie
,” Dante responded.

Within seconds, she heard the villa door close. The nearly silent tread of her husband moving toward the pool echoed through her body. She looked over and met his stare.

“
Vene
.” He held out his hand.

L
ara’s
mahogany hair was slicked back from her face, emphasizing the deepness of her eyes and the classic oval of her face. Her emotions were blanked and he wondered for a moment...but no, it was time. He’d felt the heat of her body, felt her avid gaze upon him.

Dio
, finally, she’d kissed him. For the first time, she’d made a move towards him of her own free will. His heart still jerked and chugged at the memory of her hands pulling him to her lush and waiting mouth.

He could not be mistaken about this. Could he?

For a moment, a harrowing moment, she merely stared at him.

Then she moved and he knew for sure.

She came toward him, a slow, languid stroke, as if to tease. Standing, at last, she walked until the water lapped at her hips. With one lazy move, she untied the top of her bikini, slipping the pink cups slowly off her breasts, revealing the tight rose nipples and roundness of curving flesh to his eager perusal.

A blaze of pure heat washed across his entire body.

His wife was seduction personified and she had him in her thrall.

A slight smile flickered across her face as she dropped the top at her side, letting the water steal it away. She waded to the underwater steps leading to the edge of the tile where he stood. Dante controlled the urge to grab, to clutch. He’d done that once before; he would not treat this woman with so much disrespect ever again.

Her hands came to her hips and pushed the final remnant of swimsuit down her long legs and into the water. She boldly walked up the last of the stairs and came right to his side. Her face lifted, skin glowing in the muted light, her eyes half-mast and slumberous. Her long elegant fingers touched his chest, smoothing through the coarse hair, dallying at his nipples, and then stroking across his taut stomach.

He willed himself to hold still.

It was such a pleasure for her to at last show him she desired and wanted him as much as he wanted her.

The elation was indescribable.

One of her long fingers whispered across the end of the towel, tickling his bellybutton, exploring the edge of his hip bone.

The towel slipped from his body with one demanding pull on her part.

He sucked in a breath as one soft hand moved across his naked abdomen, into the vee of his thigh and pelvis. A flutter of a touch on his tight balls and then a firm grasp around his erection. He nearly sank to his knees as his legs shook and his whole body shuddered. Her hand slipped up and down on his hard flesh, using the beads of creamy fluid on the tip of him as a lubricant to maximize his pleasure. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and gave himself over to the pure enjoyment and yes, relief.

She wanted him,
si
, she wanted him.

The gratifying realization sizzled through his bloodstream.

“You’re beautiful, Dante.”

A short laugh escaped through his hoarse breathing. “You are the beauty in this relationship.”

She gave him no verbal response, only flicked the edge of the head of his penis in a womanly knowing of what a man desires.

He had to put a stop to this or disgrace himself.

“Enough.” He grabbed her hand. “You are destroying me.”

The smile returned to her face as she slipped her hand from his and lifted both arms, sliding them onto his shoulders. His hands moved to her hips, smoothing over the soft skin, molding the inward curve of her waist, then back to the roundness of her curves. She closed her eyes, her head tilting, a moan of pure pleasure escaping her lips.

With a tight rein on his passion, he tenderly tucked her into his body, relishing the feel of her breasts against his chest, and
Dio
, the brush of her mons on his aching cock.

A groan escaped him and his hold on any kind of thought disintegrated. “Lara,
bella
, it’s time,” he managed to say, as he licked her neck and lifted her into his shaking arms.

“I agree.” Her eyes opened, honey hot in the dim light. “It’s time.”

Though every atom of his body screamed at him to throw her on the nearest surface, he ignored it. With a quick pace, he strode to the veranda and into the house. He would not take her for the first time on a lounge chair or against a wall. No, his wife deserved his respect. He would do this right, give her time, honor her body. All in a bed.

Her light breath brushed his neck as she kissed the edge of his ear and nipped at the earlobe. An electric sensation shot down his spine and tightened the muscles of his thighs and his scrotum.

“
Ho bisogno di te
,” he rasped against her mouth.
I need you
.

Desperately.

Pushing the bedroom door aside, he laid his wife on the smooth Egyptian cotton duvet covering the king-size bed. The soft blues and creams of the bedspread contrasted with the perfect peach of her skin and the darkness of her hair. Her hands clasped his neck, pulling him down with her before he could catch his breath or dampen his lust. Her body arched into his, her hips rolling in a movement as old as time.

“Lara,” he gasped. “Slow down
, il mio amore
.”

Her hands moved across his shoulders, down his sides. Her touch was warm and soft, making him tingle and arch into her caress. Yet when she reached his ass, her grasp became firm and strong. “No,” she purred as his mouth covered hers, then slid to her cheek. “I want you now.”

Sweat broke out on the length of his spine. He sucked in one breath before expelling it in an intense blast as her legs slid open and his aching cock slipped into her heated, wet notch.

“Wait,” he panted.

He would not act the part of a brute again. He would not. Summoning every inch of his determination, he pulled himself away from her tempting body. He would prove to her he was a lover with skill, a lover who spent more time ensuring her pleasure than his own. He would not lose control.

His wife would have none of it.

“Come here.” Her strong arms yanked him back into contact with every curve and dip, every silky sweet inch of her skin.

And he lost the battle.

“Aaah,” he moaned and with no conscious thought, surged inside the depths of this woman he’d wanted with a violent intensity for too long. His body and hers took over any deliberation or decision on his part. The honeyed slip and ease of him into her, the stroke of her wet flesh along his hot, hard length.

The pounding clamor of desire pumped through him, and his hips moved without will, without consideration. The rush of sensation as he eased out and into her tight, narrow entry pushed his fabled concentration far from his grasp. He was totally in her possession, totally submitted to her—the sweet, tangy fragrance of her arousal, the supple lushness of her curves, the mysterious depths of her desire-filled eyes. She moved with him, her hips setting a fierce pace, pushing him, pulling him towards the end of everything.

He tried to slow the slamming drum of their copulation.

He tried to grasp the threads of some kind of command, if only to ensure she would be with him completely as he jumped into mindless pleasure. But somehow, with some female instinct as old as Eve, she sensed his purpose and countered with the blatant movement of her long, lithe legs.

The slip of her calves smoothed over the hair on his thighs and then onto his lower back, sending tingling electricity through his nerves and muscles and bones. The subtle new angle of her body shifted the sensation on his cock, tightening her hold on him.

Her legs clamped around his waist.

He was lost to her power, thrusting and pushing, dimly aware of the fast pace of her breath and the sharp cut of her nails as they tightened on his heaving shoulders.

Scalding heat blasted straight down his spine, curving through his thighs and shooting up the length of him buried so deeply inside her wet, welcoming warmth. There was no hope for him, no possibility of keeping control.

“Lara,” he groaned between panting breaths.

Her eyes closed and her head arched on the pillow. A long, low moan of passion slipped from her mouth, and her nails bit into his skin, signaling the reaching of her peak. Her inner muscles clenched and softened around him, pushing, pushing him out, far out past the edge of his reason.

Swearing, sweating, his every muscle tensing, he threw his head back. The cry emanating from his mouth was utterly male and visceral in its conquering command. Jerking and moaning, he plunged into her, spilling his seed, marking her as his.

His wife.

His woman.

A virgin.

T
hey dined
on lobster bisque and luscious tiger prawns with saffron and almond rice. The tangy white wine Lara sipped was the perfect complement to the food and to the situation. She sizzled with life, her skin hot to the touch. The wine seemed only to feed her energy and her awareness of every movement and moment.

She’d done it. She’d seduced Dante to the point where he hadn’t had a clue about her secret. She’d successfully hidden the small flinch when he entered her and managed to follow his lead so well he’d lost himself inside her.

A shiver of pleased accomplishment zipped through her.

No need for explanations or any chance of pity.

She was a woman now. Completely and fully. She knew what all the fuss and chatter was about. She’d had sex. Glorious, amazing sex.

Glancing at her husband across the table, her blood thrummed in her veins and arteries. She managed to nibble at the edge of a piece of coconut and vanilla cream pie, but her entire focus was on him.

Dante.

He lounged in his chair, his Mediterranean skin showing bronze in contrast to the white cotton of the shirt he’d slipped on after they’d left the bed. He looked out at the deep night sky and so she had the chance to trace the strong arch of his nose, the slant of his cheekbone, the firmness of his jaw and chin.

Her husband was magnificent.

Her nipples tightened beneath the light cotton dress she’d thrown on for dinner. She wanted him again and again and again. There was no shame in her for this. He was magnificent in bed; everything she could have possibly dreamed of and more. There was a complete thrill in seeing this dominant, commanding man surrender to her allure. Utterly. The way he’d shuddered and groaned and let go…

The tightening between her legs told the story.

A woman could become addicted to him.

Which she would not allow herself to do. She was using him, exactly as he was using her. Why shouldn’t she enjoy this while it lasted? She only needed to protect her emotions and feel everything with her body, not her heart.

She could do that. Certainly.

“Lara.” Her husband turned his head and stared at her, a slight frown on his brow.

Licking the last of the cream off her lips, she looked at him. His dark eyes followed the movement of her tongue and his hand fisted on the table before relaxing.

A thrill of accomplishment swept through her. She had him. This man who wanted to appear completely in control at all times, wasn’t in control when he was with her.

His mouth firmed and his gaze met hers. “First, I need an explanation.”

“An explanation of what?”

“Nine years of marriage.” His determined stare never left her face. “Tell me what happened.”

“Why are you interested in my marriage again?” Her heart slid to her feet. Had she been wrong? Had he noticed that tiny flinch? Her hand tightened around the fork and she glanced away from his obsidian eyes, staring instead at the fluffy cream of the pie. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Nine years.” His voice turned hoarse. “And the ass never made love to you?”

“I don't know what you’re talking—”

“Don’t lie.” His hand lifted in a straight, short cut of rejection. “I know you were a virgin tonight. So tell me what happened with that idiot.”

Bloody hell. She hadn’t been successful. She hadn’t been aggressive and seductive enough to blot out her secret from his awareness. Laying the fork gently on the plate, she managed a shrug she hoped was nonchalant. “He wasn’t interested.”

A dark silence met her answer. Lara focused on the diamond on her hand, then on the strands of silver thread weaving through the cotton of her dress.

“He was gay.” His stark words hit her with a punch.

She jerked her head up. “How did you—”

“It’s the only possible answer. No man could live with you for nine years and not take you to bed unless he was gay.” His hands were fisted on the teak of his chair. His black eyes blazed with pure, holy hell.

Whipping her head around, she stared out at the sea, remembering. Remembering her first honeymoon night when she’d been so scared and sad. But defiant. She’d been ready to take Gerry into her bed and show everyone she was a woman, not a child. Not merely a stupid student who couldn’t make sense of the words on the page. Not just a pest of a girl who had to be shipped away from her home, left with English relatives who had no use for her ignorance.

Gerry had never come to bed. Never.

“Say it.” The man across the table kept at it, kept bringing these awful memories to the forefront of her brain. “Tell me.”

“All right.” Her hand shook as she brushed her hair from her shoulders. “Gerry was probably gay.”

“Probably?” Disbelief rang in Dante’s voice.

“I have no idea. I never did.” She returned her focus to the shadowed sea. “We didn’t talk about it.”

“But...” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands open, then close. “But why did you stay with him?”

Now that was a question she could answer easily. Glancing back at him, she forced herself to keep her gaze on his as she delivered the truth, the ugly truth she’d known at the age of eighteen. “I had nowhere else to go.”

“What?” His eyes widened, the white rim contrasting with the dark iris. “You could have come home to Italy with one phone call.”

“Really?” The old hardened pain pumped anger into her veins. “After the phone call I received from you coming back from my honeymoon?”

You have been a fool, Lara. You have made a huge mistake and disgraced your father. How could you have done such a thing without consulting your family and your friends here?