Bought by Her Italian Boss(24)

When she released his belt and opened his pants, he let her drag them  down his thighs, watching her drop to her knees and loving the sight of  her taking him in hand. The sensations of her wet worship, the  encompassing heat and delicate suction, had him tempted to let her take  him all the way. This was something he would remember for the rest of  his life. He would never forget her. He had known that before she'd  begun anointing him this way.                       
       
           



       

But if they were saying goodbye, he wanted to do the same to her. To  make this last. To create the sort of memory that would sustain them  both for the rest of their lives.

That knowledge was a sharp twist in his gut that allowed him to pull her  to her feet, turning her so she faced the back of the sofa.

"Wait. I want-"

"Are you not doing what I want, mia bella?" He paused in bringing her  skirt up, waiting. "Giving me something to remember you by?"

Her knuckles were white where she gripped the leather. "Yes," she whispered. "But I want to see you. Kiss you."

"You will," he promised her, kissing her bare shoulder, then drawing  back to memorize the sight of plum wool bunched on the small of her back  as he pressed her to bend forward. He stroked his hand over pale white  cheeks wearing a line of amethyst lace. Those he dispatched to around  her ankles in a moment, caressing her where she was plump and wet,  hearing her whimper under his touch, back arching, shoulders shuddering  with pleasure.

"We will always have this," he vowed, pressing into her. "Now come for  me." He shifted his hand so he was giving her all the pleasure she could  bear. "Surrender to me. It's what I love the most," he told her,  opening his mouth on her nape, losing himself to the delight of  thrusting into her, barely holding on as she suddenly gasped and  clenched in strong pulses around him. Her gorgeous cries of fulfillment  went through him like church bells.

He petted her as he carefully withdrew and kicked out of his pants. Then  he scooped up her still-quivering body and carried her toward the  stairs.

"You didn't-"

"I know exactly what I have and haven't done, mia bella." His ears were  ringing with the pulse hammering upward from the damp, urgent flesh  between his thighs. "If you think I'm going to let our last time be a  one-sided dalliance in the front room, you haven't learned one damned  thing about me or what I expect from my mistress."

* * *

It wasn't unusual for them to make love two or three times in a day.  Sometimes it was a rush of passion, sometimes a slow, sultry buildup.

It had never been quite such a complete immersion. They ignored the  phone when it rang, ignored the growl of their stomachs, barely even  spoke except to encourage or compliment or groan incomprehensibly.

Finally, when it was well and truly dark beyond the windows, they landed  weak and sated and aching with sensual exhaustion, limbs tangled, quiet  and still at last.

The sense of closeness between them was so acute that Gwyn could barely  comprehend that it was over, but it was. Those panting moments when  their hearts had beat in unison had merely been physical compatibility.  Nothing more.

Shifting her arm off her stinging eyes, she decided a trip to the ladies  room might be in order to keep herself from revealing how hard this was  for her.

"Stay," he said as she began to rise.

A helpless noise escaped her. "Honestly, Vito, I don't think I can. That  was...a lot." Her loins were stinging and tender, her muscles quivering  with overuse.

A gruff noise escaped him, part humor, part apology. He came up on an  elbow and scooped her beneath him, heavy on her as he pinned her to the  mattress. "That's quite a compliment if you think I have anything left  in me," he growled, nose going into her neck and inhaling. "I mean stay  in Milan. This doesn't have to end here and now."

She stilled. "You're asking me to stay as your mistress?"

"Sì."

The room was dark shadows and rumpled blankets; her world narrowed to  the warmth of his lips against her collarbone. He didn't see her wince  of agony at the term. He might sometimes refer to her as his lover, but  that was a euphemism for what she really was. She knew that and she had  justified what she was letting herself become as necessary for their  ruse.

But that was no longer necessary.

"Because it would look better for the press?" she asked.

"Because we're good together."

That surprised her, making her heart leap as though he'd admitted to  deep, abiding affection even though she knew he only meant they knocked  each other off the bed with the intensity of physical pleasure they gave  each other.

If she stayed with him, wouldn't that allow time for him to develop  deeper feelings toward her, though? It was the kind of treacherous,  self-delusion all women were capable of, when they were half in love  with a man who didn't love them back. She knew it, but she was still  tempted to let him talk her into staying. To see.

She traced the line of his spine and lightly searched for proof that he might already be harboring feelings toward her.                       
       
           



       

"What if I don't want to?" she asked.

His turn to go completely still. He lifted his head and in the muted  light she saw his hard mouth twist. "I'm not a man who begs, cara. Be  careful about bluffing. I'll call you on it."

She ought to be happy he'd gone so far as to tell her he wanted her to  stay, she supposed. It was quite an admission from such a  self-sufficient man. One who could have his choice among women.

"It's not an ultimatum," she said, trying to hide her hurt behind a  neutral tone. "I told you when we first met that I don't have affairs.  Relying on you goes against everything I've tried to become. I ought to  start salvaging my life, not leave it on hold."

His tense hand on her waist grew heavy. "I respect your independence. I  do," he assured her. "But your life is already on hold, I carry some of  the fault for that and I have the means to support you while you give  real thought to your next steps. Let me do this for you, cara."

I respect you. Such a small phrase and it moved her so very deeply to  hear it. How could she not stay and try to nurture that into something  even more meaningful?

"I don't want to lose that respect," she said, hearing his breath catch  and taking heart from it. It almost sounded like he was bracing himself.  "But I do enjoy the sex."

If the noise he made sounded to her like relief, she knew that was  wishful thinking. He was amused, which had been her goal. Keep it light.  Don't let him know how emotionally dependent she really was.

"And I'm going to have to insist on more frequent feedings," she added, trying to rise. "I suppose I have to cook again?"

"Two words, cara," he growled, flattening her on her back and setting his teeth against her shoulder. "Bite me."





CHAPTER NINE

"GOOD JOB ON the lawyer," Paolo said dryly as he opened the door to his home to them a few nights later.

Gwyn was a bundle of nerves, not quite believing this was a mere social  dinner, but Vito assured her it was. All she had done was ask casually  how Lauren and the baby were getting on. Vito had called to ask and it  had turned into a dinner invitation. Now, here they were.

"She's really nice, isn't she?" she said to Paolo, barely tracking the  conversation as the old-world beauty of the house dazzled her. Vito had  told her as they drove in that the house had been in the family for  generations. It was set on a property that had to be worth millions of  euros given its size and location. What charmed her more was the way the  high ceilings and Renaissance architecture and formal furniture was  peppered with colorful children's toys, a baby swing and the sleek lines  of a laptop on an antique escritoire.

"Nice," Paolo repeated under his breath, saying to Vito, "Did you have anything to do with her choice?"

"I've stayed out of it. Why? Are we likely to lose these?" Vito plucked at his shirt.

"My stepbrother found her for me," Gwyn hurried to say. "I didn't know who else to ask. Why? Is she awful?"

"Depends which side of the table you're on," Paolo said smoothly.  "You're on the side where she is very nice. But she's already setting a  high bar for our own legal team. It will be a good exercise for them in  staying sharp."

Lauren came down the stairs at that point, newborn in her arm.

After a greeting of kisses all around, she brought them through the  house to the back to greet the children who were playing outside under  the eye of the nanny.