Janette Kenny - Untamed Italians

No, don’t think on those terms! Don’t think of falling in love with Stefano .

But how could she not imagine giving her heart to this man when he whispered a litany of love words in her ear. When he made her feel desirable and wanted and loved.

“ Bella ,” he breathed as his sex filled her.

She gasped more from surprise and pressure than any pain that she’d been warned she’d feel this first time with a man. No, any pain she felt was in her mind—for what could never be between them.

He went still, his dark eyes registering a moment’s shock as well. And she knew that he recognized she’d been a virgin.

She could almost read the second doubts he was warring with himself. The surprise that she wasn’t what he’d accused her of being.

She arched against him. “Please, don’t stop.”

His expression became more intense, more possessive. Then his mouth captured hers in a long, drugging kiss that left her awash in pleasure and need.

She raked her fingers down his back and melted against him, reveling in the new sensations. So this was how it felt to be joined to a man.

She hadn’t imagined she’d feel so free. That this moment would feel so right.

Stefano cupped her face in his palms and locked gazes with her, and she marveled that even in the dim light she saw her need reflected in his dark eyes. “You are mine now. Do you understand?”

She nodded, but she refused to read anything into that arrogant comment besides the fact she was now his mistress.

Then he sank into her fully and withdrew before she could catch her breath, only to do it again and again. His mouth dipped to hers and she met him midway, the kiss going as wild and frenzied as his thrusts.

There were no more words, just an explosion of sensations and pleasures that their bodies understood.

She matched his strong, sure movements, clinging to him in helpless abandon. The sensations building within her were too huge, nearly too intense to bear. Just as she feared she’d faint from the sheer joy of finding completion in his arms, they climaxed together.

Gemma had heard the saying of two becoming one, but she hadn’t understood what it meant until now. She felt his heart beat in every pore in her body, felt the tension and power of the man rippling through her in sultry waves.

He rolled to his side and took her with him, still inside her, still holding her close to his heart. She nestled against the solid wall of his chest, his heartbeat loud and steady against her ear.

He was as much a part of her as she of him. She felt branded by his touch, his possession. She felt wanted and desirous and loved.

A delicious, drowsy warmth spread over her. She yawned, her last coherent thought was she’d be content to spend every night just like this.

This was heaven.

This was a delicious dream from which she never wanted to awaken. But she knew before she closed her eyes that it would end all too soon.

For the morning he was sure to pepper her with questions that she still couldn’t answer.

The whomp-whomp of the helicopter snapped Gemma from her euphoric dream. She lay in the bed a tense moment, disoriented by the splendor surrounding her.

The yacht.

Stefano.

This bed where they’d made love last night.

His masculine, spicy scent that lingered on the sheets and her skin. The tenderness of her breasts and the flesh between her legs.

She reached to his side. The sheet and pillow were cool. Not even an indentation remained to prove he’d been here.

The helicopter!

She bounded from the bed and winced, her body protesting the sudden movement in the wake of the erotic pleasure she’d gained last night. Her gown lay in a wad of torn silk on the floor.

Impatiently she tore through the closet to find a thick velour wrapper. She bundled up in it and rushed into the salon, still feeling cold inside.

A maid started from straightening the room. “ Scusi .”

Gemma shrugged aside the woman’s apology. “Where is Stefano?”

The maid looked to the window. “He left.”

“In the helicopter?”

“ Sì . May I bring your breakfast?”

Gemma shook her head and rushed out the door. She paused a second to get her bearings then darted down the hall toward the large room at the end.

Gaining the upper deck proved easy enough, but she was too late to stop Stefano or even catch his attention. Not that he’d have paid her any heed anyway.

No, he’d loved her to distraction last night and then left her here on his yacht this morning while he went to the hospital to be with Cesare. He’d lied to her!

The reason was clear to her. He didn’t trust her to stay away as he’d asked. He’d brought her here last night to ensure she’d not be able to get to land until he decreed it so. The yacht was so far at sea she couldn’t even see land!

Gemma stormed back to her stateroom and slammed the door. If he’d lied about this, could she trust him to keep his promise regarding the inn?

A cold emptiness expanded in her, freezing any pleasure she’d felt in his arms. The suite where she’d made such passionate love with Stefano now felt like a silken prison.

You are mine now , he’d said.

But he hadn’t meant it in the sense of them being closer as a couple. No, it had been a possessive comment and nothing more.

He had her under his thumb. Or so he thought.

She was a fisherman’s daughter. She knew the sea and these people. Somehow she’d find a way to get back to Italy.

Gemma had to return today to see Cesare, if only to assure herself he was healing after his surgery. Then she must travel to Milan for there was a little girl waiting impatiently for her visit. And what would she tell her about Cesare’s absence?

The truth.

It’d been hidden long enough.

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