Annie West - Bound To The Sicilian's Bed - Bound to the Sicilian's Bed

There was a pause. ‘I told you to get undressed.’

‘To perform a striptease for you, you mean?’

He shrugged. ‘If you like.’

‘Well, I don’t like,’ she said. ‘Not any more. I’ve changed, Rocco—haven’t you?’

His eyes gleamed but he didn’t answer her question directly. ‘So why don’t you tell me what you do like?’

And despite everything she knew and everything she had learnt, Nicole found herself wishing for the impossible. Wanting him to say something romantic. To tell her he’d missed her and his life hadn’t been the same since she’d gone. Wouldn’t a few tender words enhance what was about to happen, even if he didn’t mean them? So that for a while she could pretend he cared, as she’d pretended so often in the past. But that would be a pointless thing to do because grown-ups didn’t demand hypocritical words. They accepted things exactly the way they were. And this was sex—farewell sex or break-up sex, whatever you wanted to call it. One last taste of Rocco Barberi’s magnificent body—and hadn’t she better make the most of it?

Raking her fingers back through her still-damp curls, she was aware that her hardened nipples were thrusting against her T-shirt and his eyes were following the movement, like a man hypnotised. Briefly she revelled in a feeling of power as she met the smoky hunger of his gaze. ‘I want you to take off my clothes for me,’ she said huskily. ‘And to do it as slowly as possible. I want you to test your own patience—so we’re both so turned on that we can’t bear it a second longer. That’s what I’d like, Rocco.’

His eyes narrowed, suspicion shadowing them. ‘Since when did you start having fantasies like that?’ he demanded, in a low voice. ‘Has there been another man?’

‘You think I don’t have any kind of imagination? Or that I’m incapable of articulating my own desires unless a man shows me how? Oh, wow.’ She shook her head. ‘Thanks for reminding me how unspeakably arrogant you can be, Rocco—and for making me realise that this would be a very bad idea.’

She went to walk past him, her hair swaying in the breeze from the terrace, but he caught hold of her and pulled her up hard against him. She could feel her breasts flattening against his bare chest through her T-shirt and hear the wild patter of her heart.

‘I don’t think you want to go anywhere, do you, Nicole? Not really. You just want to play provocative and you want me to do the same.’ His finger traced down the side of her face, before coming to rest against the throbbing pulse at her neck. ‘Have I got that right?’

She attempted a shrug which didn’t quite come off because showing bravado was one thing—but not quite so easy when his face was just inches away and all his hard, honed flesh was this close. ‘I’m not slipping into old patterns,’ she said huskily. ‘I’m not stripping for you just because you’ve snapped your fingers. I don’t want to play those games any more. If you want me naked, then you’ll have to undress me yourself.’

A smile touched his lips. ‘Is that so?’

She nodded, unable to speak because now his hand was drifting from her face down her body and she wished her T-shirt weren’t so baggy. What had possessed her to wear such an unflattering garment? As if he’d read her thoughts, he rucked up the material to slip his hand underneath so that his fingertips were on her bare skin and her nerve-endings were instantly fired as she felt that first light touch.

‘So how slow would you like me to go?’ he questioned almost conversationally as he cupped one of her breasts luxuriously in the palm of his hand and began to massage the underside of it with the edge of his thumb. ‘How long shall I take before I remove this delightful piece of clothing you’re wearing?’

Nicole’s knees sagged. ‘Oh,’ she said breathlessly.

‘You’re not making yourself very clear, Nicole. Oh, what?’

‘I don’t...’ She closed her eyes. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘Sudden memory lapse, tesoro?’ he murmured, his Sicilian accent a velvety caress. ‘I wonder what might be causing it?’

Nicole couldn’t answer because now his thumb was flicking across her thrusting nipple, sending little ripples of pleasure criss-crossing over her skin. He stroked tiny circles over the engorged flesh before turning his attention to the other breast and Nicole could feel her frustration begin to mount. Squirming beneath his touch, she wondered why on earth she’d told him she wanted this done slowly when already her desire was so intense that she could feel a honeyed heat between her thighs. She wanted—no, needed—to get horizontal but he showed no sign of moving and she realised that, in order to stop her knees from buckling, she was going to have to cling onto his shoulders to anchor herself. He gave a soft laugh as her fingers dug into his flesh and he buried his mouth in her neck, his lips becoming entangled with the wild spill of curls as he drifted the tip of his tongue over her skin.

‘R-Rocco,’ she whispered.

‘What?’

‘Take...take off my T-shirt.’

‘I thought you told me to take my time. To stretch my own patience were the words I think you used. And believe me, tesoro—I haven’t even started yet. I’ll show you just how patient I can be.’

It was both a promise and a threat—as well as a boastful demonstration of just how controlled he could be—and Nicole closed her eyes as he ran the flat of his hand over her belly, taking care to avoid the place where she most wanted to be touched. She bit her lip. Had she really been so sure of herself to think she could wait when she so desperately wanted to feel him inside her? She squirmed as deliberately he inched his way along the lacy edge of her panties, praying for him to slip his finger inside so that he could feel how much she wanted him, but he didn’t. She had wanted to control what was happening by setting the pace, but she had done the exact opposite and given him all the power. She wondered what the hell she’d been playing at.

So what was she waiting for?

She was his equal—remember?

Reaching between them, she tugged down the zipper of his jeans, feeling his hard length spring against her palm as she freed him, and his words were a muffled moan as she began to stroke him.

‘I thought you said—’

‘I changed my mind,’ she whispered. ‘It’s a woman’s prerogative, Rocco—hadn’t you heard?’

With her thumb and her forefinger she began to tease his taut erection but he halted her fingers with the firm clamp of his own and she heard him give an unsteady laugh.

She stared at him indignantly. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘You are. I had no idea you could be so...mercurial. I like it.’

A prick of sadness threatened to puncture Nicole’s blissful state. Of course he hadn’t known what she was capable of and had never bothered finding out because he hadn’t really cared. To Rocco she would always be the office cleaner in the too small uniform with the mop and bucket in her hand—the last woman in the world he should have married.

But she wasn’t going to think about that.

Not now.

She was going to think how good this felt and to enjoy every single second of it.

And then she was going to kiss him goodbye.

‘I’m pleased you like it but you’d better not get used to it,’ she warned softly.

‘To what?’

‘The sex.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh?’

‘Since we both know this is only going to happen once.’

‘Is that so?’ He seemed to recover himself then and Nicole saw the light of challenge in his eyes as he peeled off her T-shirt with a fluid movement and carried her over to the bed. ‘In that case maybe we should stop wasting so much time talking and get down to business.’