Innocent in the Italian's Possession(20)

Oh, and what pleasure he gave!

His mouth moved over hers with ravenous passion and she trembled,  starving for more. Each bold thrust of his tongue parried with hers sent  an answering throb to the very core of her.

She writhed against him, wanting something she could only imagine. It  was as if she'd slumbered all her life and just came awake now.

"Kiss me, bella," he murmured against her lips. "Kiss me like you want to."

Dare she? Her experience was laughable, but her desire was great.

Her small hands glided up his bare chest, awed and emboldened by the  telling tremors that passed from this tall, muscular man into her. His  hands weren't passive, either, and those long fingers gliding over her  sensitized skin adored and teased in turn. How could she have thought  this man hard and cruel?

They were chest to breast, yet she ached to be closer. She hooked her  legs around his lean hips, the movement pressing her sex to the hard  length of his.                       
       
           



       

The silk of her gown sheathed his penis, yet each shift of their bodies  created a delicious friction that shocked and emboldened her. She wanted  skin on skin, wanting to know this man as intimately as a woman could.

The desire was bold and totally unlike her. Yet she felt no shame. Just want.

Her mouth played over his, treating him to the same sensual torment he'd  afforded her. A deep moan of satisfaction rumbled from him, melding  with the blissful sighs she could no longer hold back.

"You are made for loving," he said, his lips trailing over skin he'd just bared.

Her skin pebbled under his knowing touch, but old promises and new fears  threatened to dampen her amorous mood. He made a growling sound of  protest and continued his exploration of her neck, her breasts.

"You deserve a lifetime of amorous pleasure, mio caro."

She tried to summon up anger that Stefano only wanted an affair with  her. But his mouth settled over one bare nipple and a maelstrom of new  sensations exploded within her.

What would be quickly faded into oblivion. Her life suddenly hinged on this sensual fever he ignited in her.

She arched against him and breathed a sigh of relief when he rid her of  her gown, the sound of tearing silk more erotic than she could have  imagined.

She gloried in those strong, masculine hands that played over her skin,  amazed that he knew what she liked, what she craved, more than she knew  herself.

In this there were no barriers between them. At least not physical ones.

They were a man and woman in the throes of a passion that was far too  intense for her to imagine. Mio Dio, if Stefano was that passionately  aggressive for an entire month, she'd never purge him from her mind.

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.





CHAPTER EIGHT




STEFANO paced the near empty waiting room and damned the time that  seemed to crawl by-unlike this morning which had flown by in a rush.  He'd not wanted to leave Gemma's side. He'd wanted to get lost in her  lush body again.

She'd been a virgin. Virgin!

If not for his strong will, he'd have shaken her awake at dawn and  demanded to know what the hell she and his papa had been doing all those  weekends in Milan. But he didn't have the time to delve into it now.