A Night of Living Dangerously Page 6

  He was naked on top of her. Only the thin cotton of her panties separated them. She felt his hardness strain between her thighs, and the ache low in her belly increased. Closing her eyes, she gripped his shoulders as he kissed her, pulling him down harder.

  Her head fell back with abandon as he kissed down her throat, kissing the valley between her breasts to the soft curve of her belly. She felt the swift flick of his tongue inside her belly button, but before she could be shocked, his teeth were gently pulling down the top edge of her panties.

  He pushed her legs apart and she felt his breath against her thighs. She shivered as he kissed up her legs. He gave a teasing lick beneath the bottom edge of her panties, and her fingernails gripped into his shoulders. She held her breath, eyes still squeezed shut, as his hand cupped the mound between her legs. He sucked her most sensitive spot through the lacy fabric, and she cried out.

  He ripped off her panties, tossing them on the floor in a mangled heap of lace. Her eyes flew open and she took a single deep gulp of air before she felt his mouth on her. Right on her. Licking her, spreading her wide with his fingers so he could taste every slick fold. She felt wet, so wet. His tongue played with her, teasing her, one moment lapping her with its full width, then moving to flick her sensitive nub with the tip. The feeling of his mouth on her was like nothing she’d imagined, pleasure so intense it was almost agony. She was being sucked into a maelstrom of ecstasy, drowning in the waves. Her hips lifted of their own accord to meet his mouth as the tension in her deepest core built higher and higher.

  She couldn’t endure this sweet torture, this agony of pleasure, for much longer. She writhed beneath him, her body twisting as she tried to pull away from the insistent, ruthless pleasure of his tongue. But he held her hips firmly, spreading her wider still, as he suckled between her legs. He thrust one thick finger inside her to the first knuckle. Then two fingers. Then three, going deeper, stretching her wide, giving her a small shock of pain to season and salt the sweet, wide, wet slide of his tongue.

  Her body arched off the bed as she tried to move away from his fingers inside her, but he would not let her escape the exquisite agony of her pleasure. She gripped the bedspread as the storm inside her exploded. As if from a distance, she heard the cry from her lips lift to a scream of joy.

  Sheathing himself in a condom, Alessandro lifted his powerful body over hers, as she still arched in ecstasy on the bed. Positioning himself, he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry.”

  He pushed inside her in a single stroke, shoving himself to the hilt. The sudden pain made her gasp. As he filled her so deeply, ripping the invisible barrier inside her, Lilley’s scream of joy changed to a choked gasp. He held perfectly still, letting her get used to the stretch of him inside her.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured again. Lowering his head, he kissed her face, her cheeks, her lips. “The only way over it is through it.” Her answer was a muffled sob as she turned her face into the pillow.

  Then slowly, very slowly, he began to move inside her, and a miracle happened. The ocean of pleasure, which had receded beneath her like a wave, sucking sand beneath her feet, began to rush in like the tide. Having him inside her started to feel … good. She’d thought she was satiated, but to her shock a new need built within her. With each slow, deep thrust, he filled a place deep inside her that made her body tighten with new desire.

  As her body accepted him fully, Alessandro moved with increasing roughness, riding her harder and deeper, holding her hips with his hands. Her breasts swayed with the increasing force of his thrusts, the headboard slapping against the wall. The pleasure—the pain—made her writhe, her back arching off the bed as she panted for breath, her body desperate with the need for new release. He held her down as he pushed inside her, and he was so huge, so deep, and it felt good, so good. She held her breath, closing her eyes. Her head tilted back and the tension inside her coiled—and coiled—then sprang.

  She gave a silent, mindless scream as explosions ripped through her, shaking her whole body as at, the same moment, she heard his growl rise to a shout and he slammed into her with one final, cataclysmic thrust.

  When Lilley opened her eyes, she found Alessandro lying on top of her, holding her protectively. She closed her eyes. For no reason she could explain, she suddenly felt like crying. Except he’d taken her to a whole new world.

  Why had she ever been so afraid of something so magical?

  “I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  At the sound of his low voice, she looked up at his face. The shadowed mystery of his dark eyes held regret and barely satiated desire and something more.

  “You didn’t,” she lied.

  He gave her a skeptical look.

  “A little,” she admitted, then, tossing her arms above her head against the soft pillow, she sighed happily. “But would it be cheesy to say it hurt so good?”

  He tenderly kissed her forehead. “Horribly cheesy.”

  Then he kissed her mouth with something more than tenderness. His kiss deepened, his tongue twining with her own as his hands cupped her cheeks. She sighed with pleasure, then gave an involuntary wince as he crushed her bruised lips.

  “I’m hurting you.” He started to roll over, but she stopped him.

  “You’re not.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “So let me,” she whispered.

  A sensual smile curved his lips. He kissed her again, his mouth hot and hard against hers. She felt him move against her, and sighed with bliss.

  He suddenly rolled her over on the bed, pulling her on top of his naked body. She gave a little squeak of surprise as he looked up at her with dark, wicked eyes. “Your turn.”

  Lilley stared at him. He expected her to lead in bed? To ride him? Her heart pounded in her throat. She was so clumsy. She’d make a fool of herself. “I … I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know how.”

  “You will.” Looking straight into her eyes, he put his hand on her cheek. “I can teach you.”

  Alessandro leaned up to kiss her, and she forgot to be afraid. Holding on to him, letting him guide her to find her own rhythm, she allowed him to teach her to follow her own pleasure, and lead him to his. She rode him, and joy and freedom filled her soul. For the first time in her life, Lilley was the fearless woman she’d always wanted to be.

  Alessandro had never known sex could be like this. Lilley was an intoxicating combination of innocence and fire.

  He’d never been so insatiable before. He knew that for the rest of his life he’d remember how he’d had the honor of being her first lover. He’d remember teaching her to control the rhythm and pace as she rode him, timidly at first, then with rising reckless confidence.

  Afterward, sweaty and sticky from lovemaking, they’d showered in the enormous, gleaming marble bathroom. Alessandro had watched her as she’d tipped her head back beneath the water. The sight of her arching body as water poured over her breasts and streamed off her tight, pink nipples had been too much for him. She’d flicked him a teasing glance, and he’d suddenly realized she was playing with him. With a growl, he’d pushed her against the cool marble of the shower and made love to her against the wall as hot water sprayed all over them both.

  Lilley was a very apt student. No wonder each sexual encounter between them was more explosive than the last.

  His innocent virgin was transforming into a wanton sex goddess in front of his eyes.

  Rosy-skinned and exhausted, they’d fallen into bed a few hours before dawn and woken up starving a few hours later. They’d made love a fourth time, fast and hot, then ventured downstairs for breakfast.

  Alessandro found himself wanting to impress her. He’d given his staff the weekend off, so he made her his signature breakfast dish, a sausage frittata. As he cooked, she scooted around the kitchen wearing an oversized robe, gathering ingredients for her French toast, a delicious confection of nutmeg and cinnamon sugar. They sat together at his kitchen table, basking in the morning light,
drinking freshly squeezed orange juice and feeding each other bites of food.

  For the first time in Alessandro’s adult life, he had no desire to check in with work, or catch up on the morning news. All he wanted to do was look at her, touch her, be with her. He couldn’t get enough of her exquisite skin and her curvaceous, soft body.

  But it was more than just her body.

  Being around Lilley made him feel … different. Made him feel his own heart beating. After so many years of being empty and bored, playing the game, making money to keep score, sleeping with women he barely knew and dodging the constant onslaught of people begging for his attention, he could let down his guard. Lilley asked for nothing. She would never hurt him or lie to him. Her openness and honesty reminded him of the person he’d been long ago, before everyone he loved had betrayed him.

  For some reason, Lilley liked him. Not his money or his title or even just his body. She liked him. The man inside. And looking at her in the morning light, Alessandro realized that whatever he’d promised her yesterday, he had no intention of giving her up. He didn’t care if it was selfish.

  He wanted more than a one-night stand.

  “This is delicious,” Lilley murmured, leaning forward at the breakfast table. Her oversized robe fell open to reveal her delectable breasts as she took another bite of frittata. She gave him an impish smile. “To be honest, I didn’t expect cooking to be one of your talents.”

  A moment before, he’d been finishing his last piece of French toast, licking the crumbs off his plate. But looking at her state of undress instantly made him want her again, made him want to sweep their dishes to the floor and make love to her on the table. He swallowed. “I usually don’t cook. You inspired me.”

  She smiled at him, her trusting warm eyes the color of deep, dark caramel, her beautiful face suffused in the soft glow of morning light as she whispered, “Not half as much as you inspire me.”

  Alessandro stared at her, lost in her gaze. He could no more stop himself from wanting her than he could stop breathing.

  But keeping her would be wrong. Very wrong.

  I have no reason to feel guilty, he told himself fiercely. He’d tried to let her go once already. She’d made her own choice. He’d told her up front he could never marry her or love her. She could protect her own heart.

  Reaching his hand out to her cheek, he slowly stroked down her neck to her swelling breasts half revealed by the gape of her robe. Her lips parted in surprise and he could not resist the invitation. Leaning over the table, he kissed her. He felt her soft lips move against his, matching his passion, and nearly groaned. Selfish or not, nothing on earth could make him give her up. Not now. Not yet.

  Rising to his feet, Alessandro pulled her from her chair.

  Untying her sash, he dropped her robe to the floor, leaving her naked skin glowing in a pool of morning light. He gave a shuddering intake of breath. “Walk ahead of me,” he said hoarsely. “So I can see you.”

  Her eyebrow quirked. In a quick movement, she jerked open his own robe, dropping it to the floor beside hers.

  “You first,” she suggested sweetly.

  Thirty seconds later, Lilley was giggling with little screams of laughter as he chased her, both of them naked, back upstairs. They didn’t even make it to his bedroom, but ended up on the priceless heirloom rug in the upstairs hall.

  They spent the rest of Sunday making love in every room of his villa. In the garden, in the library, in the study, and finally, long past midnight, back in his bed. They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

  But now, just a few hours before Monday’s dawn, Alessandro was wide awake as Lilley slept beside him. He’d lost count of the number of times they’d made love in the last thirty hours. More than ten. He paused, then shook his head, amazed. Less than twenty?

  Each time he possessed her, instead of being satiated, he only wanted her more. His passion for her consumed him, and his hunger only grew.

  But their weekend was over. He looked down at her, kissing her forehead softly as she slept in his arms. He listened to her breath. She clung to him, naked, sighing sweetly in her sleep as she whispered something that sounded like his name.

  Guilt, a very unfamiliar emotion, blew through Alessandro like an icy breeze. Virgins fell in love. He knew that too well. They were not experienced enough in the ways of the world to separate their bodies from their hearts. And a girl like Lilley, so warm, vivid, brilliant and kind, deserved a man who could give her a future. A man who could actually love her.

  Unlike his usual sort of mistress, Lilley Smith was not a ruthless coquette who used her body as a weapon for power and gain. He wondered if he could ever again be fully satisfied by a cold-hearted woman like Olivia Bianchi. How could that ever compare to Lilley’s intoxicating warmth and joy as she gave all of herself, body and soul?

  Already Alessandro wanted her again.

  Angrily, he clawed back his hair, which was still damp from the sweat of their passionate night. Careful not to wake her, he rose to his feet and walked naked through the balcony doors, out into the warm, clear August night. Moonlight stretched over his vineyards, frosting the hills with silver as he looked out at his land, trying to calm his unquiet heart.

  He closed his eyes, feeling every bit of his thirty-five years. His soul felt old and dark compared to hers. Was that his intention—to suck up her youth and optimism like a vampire, feeding on her innocence until his own darkness consumed her?

  “Alessandro?” he heard her murmur sleepily.

  Gripping his hands, he went back into the bedroom. He found her lying in bed, her gorgeous curves covered only by a sheet. She sat up in surprise when she realized he’d been standing naked on the balcony. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  She swallowed, biting her lip. “Do you regret our time together?” she whispered. “Are you thinking about—Olivia?”

  “No!” Shaking his head, he said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m thinking about the Mexico City deal. Wondering how our design team in San Francisco will update the Joyería designs once they take over.”

  Alessandro closed his mouth with a snap, shocked at his own stupidity. He’d been so concerned about not hurting Lilley, he’d blurted out something he should never have revealed to anyone except his board of directors. If it became public, it would ruin everything. He’d given Joyería’s current owner, Miguel Rodriguez, some legally vague reassurances that he would keep the Mexican designers on staff and the studio in Mexico City separate from Caetani Worldwide’s offices in San Francisco, Shanghai and Rome. If Rodriguez heard about his plans to economize, the man could well cancel the deal and sell the company to a competitor.

  Alessandro looked at Lilley sharply, but she seemed completely unaware of the import of the information he’d unthinkingly shared. She smiled, shaking her head.

  “You always work, don’t you?” she said softly. “That’s why you’re so successful.” Her gaze grew troubled as she hugged a pillow over her breasts. “Maybe if I were more like you, I wouldn’t be such a screw-up.”

  He frowned. “A screw-up?” he demanded. “Who said that?”

  Her smile became sad. “No one has to say it. I came to San Francisco to start my jewelry business, then chickened out.” She looked down at the bed. “I’m not brave like you.”

  He sat down beside her. “There are all kinds of bravery in the world, cara.” Reaching over, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You have an open heart. You trust people in a way I could not. And your jewelry is unique and beautiful. Like you,” he said huskily. Setting his jaw, he gave her a decisive nod. “You will start your business when the time is right. I know it.”

  Her large brown eyes looked up at him with almost painful hope. “You do?”

  “Yes.” He dropped his hand. “I failed many times, in many different businesses, before I made my first fortune. Selling children’s plastic bracelets, of all things.”

 
; She gave an amazed laugh. “You? Selling plastic bracelets? I don’t believe it.”

  He gave her a sudden grin. “It’s true. The trend exploded across America and I made my first million. I was determined to succeed. No matter how many times I failed, I wouldn’t give up.” He stroked her hair. “You are the same. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “You think so?” she breathed, her eyes huge.

  He nodded. “If it’s important to you, you’ll make it happen. Whatever it costs.”

  “What made you so driven to succeed?”

  His lips flattened. “When my father died, he left debts I had to repay. I dropped out of college and worked twenty hours a day.” He looked away. “I will never feel powerless again.”

  “Powerless? But you’re a prince!”

  “Prince of nothing,” he said harshly. “An empty title I inherited from a fifteenth-century warlord. The men of my family have always been corrupt and weak.”

  “But not you.” Her clear eyes met his. “You are the leader of Caetani Worldwide. You built a billion-dollar company from nothing. Everyone loves you,” she whispered.

  He felt uncomfortable with the adoration he saw in her eyes. “I’m nothing special,” he said gruffly. “If I can start a business, so can you. Start a business plan, work through the numbers.”

  “That might be hard, since I read letters and numbers in the wrong order.”

  “Dyslexia?”

  She nodded.

  “What is it like?”

  “It’s different for different people. In my case the letters and numbers won’t stay put.”

  He barked a laugh. “And you’re working in my file room?”

  She gave him a sudden cheeky grin. “Now you understand why I was working late.” Her voice became wistful. “I’ve never been really successful at anything except making jewelry. Maybe that’s why my father thinks I’m hopeless at taking care of myself. He threatened to disinherit me if I don’t come back to Minnesota and marry one of his managers.”

  “Disinherit you!” Alessandro pictured a hard-working farmer with a small plot of land in the bleak northern plains. “He wanted you to marry a manager on his farm?”