A teasing smile played across her mouth. “And what would ‘this’ be?”
“I see you need a short refresher course.” He lifted her out of her chair and carried her in the direction of his bedroom.
“No.” Her arms tightened around his neck. “I need a very, very, very long one.”
Gianna and Constantine flew to Seattle Friday night after work and checked into the Crown, a brand-new hotel within walking distance of the piers, Pike Place Market and the main shopping center. He’d somehow snagged a suite with a stunning western view of the sound and mountains.
After a late dinner, they retreated to the bedroom and silently stripped away their clothes. The room was dark and cool, lit only by the lights of the city and a full moon filtering through a bank of clouds hanging just over the Olympic Mountains. It shimmered across Elliott Bay and slid into the room, gilding the bed in silver.
Unable to resist, she approached and flung herself into his arms for a kiss that expressed all the pent-up desire and frustration that seemed to define their relationship up until now. Her body impacted against the hard, taut lines of his. This kiss proved no different than any of the others. She didn’t just surrender, but gave herself up to him. Utterly. It had always been like that between them. She didn’t think it could be any other way.
“It’s only you. You’re the only one it’s ever been,” she told him.
“Or ever could be?”
The question dropped between them and she closed her eyes against the hard knowledge glimmering within his dark gaze. “I’m sorry. I wish I could answer that question for you,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t matter.” But he’d replied in Italian, giving himself away. “Nor does it change the fact that we’re connected, you and I. We have been since the moment we first touched.”
It was true, she acknowledged. She came alive whenever he took her into his arms. When he kissed her. She could practically feel her nerve endings fire, throbbing with excitement, urging her to do things that should have shocked her to the core…and didn’t.
He groaned. “Why? Why you and no one else?”
Gianna shook her head, struggling to clear it of the sensual fog with only limited success. She understood his question. It was one she’d asked herself often enough. “I have no idea why,” she admitted.
She simply knew that being in Constantine’s arms felt right. More, it felt necessary. Necessary to her very existence, whether she wanted it that way or not. Constantine slid his hands into her hair and lifted her closer, deepening the kiss. He was like a man who’d fasted for months, even though it had only been days since they’d last spent the night together. He gazed down at her as though he’d been presented with a delectable banquet, one he couldn’t resist. A whispered moan of surrender slipped from her and he breathed it in.
Together they fell back on the bed and she gave herself over to his touch. He stroked her breasts, gently plucking at her painfully sensitive nipples. His calloused fingertips tripped downward, sweeping along her abdomen, then his mouth followed the path his hands took. When he reached the core of her, he scooped his large hands beneath her bottom and lifted her. Took her. Drove her straight over the top. She arched upward and exploded helplessly. Endlessly.
And then he mated his body to hers and took her again.
It was beyond anything she’d experienced before. He called to her in a language that blended English with Italian, sweet words, a tumble of demands, hoarse pleas. She clung to him, moved with him. Drove him as he’d just driven her. Sent him soaring. Up, up, up. And there they teetered before slamming together over the next pinnacle and plummeting into oblivion.
Spent, they curled together, drawing comfort and sustenance, one from the other. And they slept; a sleep of sweet hopes and dreams, wrapped together so tightly two melded into one.
Gianna woke again in the dead of night. The full moon was sinking behind the Olympic Mountains, setting the peaks aglow and silvering the room with its light. At some point Constantine had spooned her against the hard curve of his body. While the moon softened the appearance of the room, it sculpted Constantine’s muscles and sinew into granite.
She could tell the instant he woke. The tenor of his breathing changed, deepened, and his hold on her tightened ever so slightly. “What time do you need to get up tomorrow?” she asked.
“Early.”
“When are you meeting Moretti?”
He chuckled. “Not so early.” He swept her hair to one side and traced a kiss along the back of her neck. “I want time to go through the building and finalize my presentation before we get together. Why don’t you join me there around four?”