A Ring for Vincenzo's Heir(18)

He flicked the tip of his wet tongue lightly against her, swirling  around her hard, aching nub in a circular motion. Then he spread her  wide, lapping her hungrily with the full width of his tongue. She felt  wet, so wet. She gasped as he eased a finger inside her.

Sweet agony built inside her, higher and higher. Her hips started to  lift off the bed. A low cry came unbidden from her lips as he worked her  roughly with his tongue, and his expert fingers teased her. Gripping  his shoulders, she screamed, blinded by the bright explosion of  pleasure.

He did not wait. With a low growl, he pulled her upright and yanked off  her flimsy T-shirt, leaving her completely naked beneath him.

Her body was still boneless and satiated as he fell beside her on the  mattress, rolling her over him, so she straddled his hard, naked body,  her belly huge between them. With her knees over the hard planes of his  hips, she felt the intimate press of his rock-hard body. He was  enormous.

Her swollen breasts were angled toward his mouth. Lifting his head, he  suckled each one greedily in turn, causing her to gasp and arch her back  with the new sweet sensation of his lips and tongue and teeth. With her  legs spread wide over his hips, she slid against him on instinct, her  body tightening as she felt him press against her slick core, demanding  entry.

He lifted her, positioned himself, then slowly thrust inside her, filling her inch by inch, filling her to the hilt.

She moaned as she felt him push deep inside her. Her hips moved,  swaying, quivering around him. He was so thick, so hard. So deep-

Hearing his intake of breath, she looked down at his face. His eyes were  closed, his expression rapt, and she suddenly realized that if he had  power over her, she had power over him.

Slowly, she began to ride him. As his lips parted in a soundless gasp,  she rode him harder and faster, her breasts swaying with the rough  movement.

Tension coiled and built inside her, even higher than before. She leaned  forward, gripping his muscled shoulders with her fingertips. She felt  him tense beneath her, heard his gasp. She felt him try to draw back, to  slow down-   





 

But she wouldn't let him withdraw. She rode him hard, pushing him until  his body started to shake beneath her. She heard his rising growl and  felt him explode inside her. Only then did she let herself go, and as  she heard him cry out, her own world exploded into a million sparkling  colors, before going black with the savage intensity of their joy.





CHAPTER SEVEN

AWARENESS CAME SLOWLY to Vin. It seemed like hours later when he opened his eyes.

Blinking in the darkness, he remembered they were in the guest room of  the villa. Scarlett moved in his arms, warm and soft. His woman. His  hands tightened on her as she slept.

He'd deliberately teased her, intending to make her insane with desire,  to make her love him. But she wasn't the only one who'd lost control.

Setting his jaw, Vin stared up grimly at the ceiling.

What if his lie about the possibility of falling for her hadn't been a lie?

Could he really be starting to care?

No, he told himself fiercely. No way. He enjoyed having Scarlett in his  bed. It was sexual pleasure. That was all it could possibly be.

But this place was messing with his brain. All of it. Italy. This villa.  Being around family again. It all reminded him of who he'd once been,  when all he'd wanted was to have a real home, to be loved.

But Vin had toughened up since then. Smartened up. Home could be  anywhere. He owned more houses than he could keep track of, mostly as  investments but also for his convenience. They were all decorated the  same, modern and Spartan in stark black and gray, devoid of many  personal details or clutter. That was always how he liked his  relationships, too. In his opinion, "love" was a fancy decoration, as  tacky and inappropriate as pink flounces or Victorian chintz.

He put his hand to his forehead, feeling a sense of vertigo. He couldn't  let himself return to the vulnerable, tenderhearted boy he'd been. The  boy who'd actually cared. The boy who'd felt things. Who'd hungered for  things that had nothing to do with money-

It was this place, he thought angrily.

No. He looked at Scarlett sleeping so trustingly in his arms. It was her.

He couldn't let himself lose his head. He had to keep it together. Stay cool. Stick to the plan.

They would be married soon, he told himself. All he had to do was make her love him enough to sign the post-nup. That was all.

But it was hard for Vin to keep his vow.



It took four more days, not three, before they were able to wed. The  Borgias had been wrong. Even with the town mayor expediting paperwork,  even with copies of their birth certificates-Vin's listed paternity a  glaring lie that set his teeth on edge-there were certain formalities  that had to be completed, and not even political connections or deep  pockets could completely circumvent them.

Four days.

Four days of spending every moment with beautiful, intuitive, keen-eyed  Scarlett and the wonderful people who believed themselves to be his  family. Four days of listening to Maria prate on excitedly about her  plans for their wedding. A required visit to the American Consulate in  Florence turned into a pleasurable day of sightseeing with Scarlett,  gawking at the Duomo followed by lunch at a charming café in the Piazza  della Signoria. Four days of taking long walks in the Tuscan sunshine,  eating glorious food.

Four days of talking to Scarlett, of learning about her, of finding new  things to admire. One rainy afternoon by the fire, she'd suddenly set  down her book and on impulse offered to show him the intricacies of  picking a pocket.

He appreciated the lesson and, in return, offered to teach her how to  fight. "My dad already showed me," she said primly. "I tried my punch  out on Blaise in New York."

"I bet you did," he said, grinning at her. "All right. Here's how to use  your own body weight against an attacker who grabs you from behind. Bet  your dad didn't teach that."

Vin still smiled, remembering how pleasurably those lessons had ended-in bed together.

Such a strange way to live, Vin thought. He wasn't accustomed to such a  luxurious squandering of time. He usually spent eighteen-hour days in  the office, and that was what he should have been doing now, nailing  down the details of the upcoming Mediterranean Airlines deal.

Instead, he sent his assistant on to Rome without him. He told his staff  to handle everything, promising only that he'd arrive in Rome for the  face-to-face meeting required by the other company's CEO, Salvatore  Calabrese.

He'd spent the last twenty years focused on work. He told himself he'd  be justified to take a few days off, but this was no mere vacation. He  had a clear goal: making Scarlett love him so she'd sign the postnuptial  agreement giving him the permanent control he needed to protect his  son.   





 

At least that was what Vin told himself as he spent hours walking with  Scarlett through brilliantly colored autumn fields, on footpaths laced  with cypress trees, holding her hand as they talked about everything and  nothing. Hours of lingering together over meals, midday picnics beneath  the golden sunlight, evening dinners inside by the fire. Vin found out  why Scarlett was such a bad cook. "The day after my mother died, I tried  to cook a can of soup over an open stove and nearly burned the house  down." She smiled. "My father declared he'd be in charge of meals for  safety reasons. My job was to keep the house clean and focus on school,  when I was able to go."

She smiled about it now, but when Vin broke down the many sources of  pain in that sentence-her mother died, they had to cook over an open  stove, she wasn't always able to go to school-he marveled at her  resiliency. He admired her strength.

That didn't stop him from arguing about what they'd name their son. He  wanted a simple name like John or Michael. She wanted an Italian name  from his family. "Like Giuseppe," she'd suggested hopefully. Vin had  shut that idea down fast.

But he was afraid his emotions were starting to be compromised after  four solid days of getting to know her mind and heart. Four nights of  utterly exploring her body.

He'd spent hours kissing Scarlett, running his hands over her lush  curves and overheated skin, as they'd set their bedroom on fire. They'd  made love in every possible way as he'd explored every possibility of  giving her pregnant body the deepest pleasure.

All in all, they'd been days and nights he would never forget. He was almost regretful to see them end.

But his plan was working. He could see it in Scarlett's green eyes when she looked at him now.

Against her will, she was starting to love him.

Perhaps Scarlett would have fallen in love with him anyway, without him  trying so hard. Most women did. It was not something he was vain about;  it was simply a fact. They could not resist his sex appeal, his raw  power and the underlying attraction of his billions in the bank. He  didn't have to try with women. It was usually the opposite. He would be  cold to them, and they stunningly and stupidly loved him for it.