Innocent in the Italian's Possession(27)

       
           



       

The contrast between dark and light had never seemed so intense as she  watched his shirt pull taut over the dark olive hue of his forearms that  seemed darker thanks to the dusting of crisp black hair.

Just thinking of the erotic brush of his limbs and chest against her  bare body had her trembling with desire. Her mouth went dry and warmth  expanded between her thighs.

Tell him! Get it out in the open so there are no more secrets. But she  couldn't find the words. Or maybe she simply couldn't find the courage.

For once he learned he'd been duped, he might tear up her contract this  time. He'd likely send her packing well before her thirty days were up.

He sipped his champagne, his eyes taking on a gleam that sent her blood  racing. "It is up to you if you leave Marinetti." He leaned forward and  captured her startled gaze with his, her mind numb with confusion and  her body too relaxed from the champagne. "I need a personal assistant to  accompany me for the foreseeable future. I need you, bella."

Three words she'd longed to hear. "What about the contract?"

"To hell with it! The inn is yours," he said, surprising her again.  "What you've done for my sister doesn't even come close to what my  family owes you."

"I told you I didn't expect payment for that."

He made a slashing motion with his hand, dismissing her words. "You are  efficient and smart and beautiful and you have nothing to keep you from  traveling with me on business. Of course, I will triple the salary you  are earning now."

Always money with him. He was used to buying what he wanted when he  wanted it. And wasn't that what he was trying to do with her? Buy her  compliance?

It was a given they'd remain lovers, for how could she be in this man's  company and not fall into bed with him? Would he come to love her in  time?

Then there was the money he offered. Money she desperately needed to make the necessary repairs to the inn.

"Well, caro?" he asked and held up his flute. "Do we have reason to celebrate?"

She swallowed hard and knew that there would be no turning back if she  agreed to his demands. Her gaze lifted to his and she quaked at the  desire blazing in his eyes.

Her lover. Her love.

A smile trembled on her lips. "I accept."

His full mouth pulled into a sensuous smile. He clinked his glass to  hers, the picture of a man who had just gotten what he wanted.

"To our new association," he said.

"To us," she said, and knew that there was no turning back now.



Stefano lounged in the back of the limo with Gemma cradled to his side. For the first time in ages he felt content.

He had no doubt that Gemma would do a fantastic job seeing to his personal needs-outside of bed as well as in it.

At this point in his life he needed someone he could trust to be there for him anytime of the day or night.

"Is that the harbor ahead?" she asked.

"Sì. I called ahead and had the yacht brought to port."

She smiled and snuggled closer to him. "I dreaded that drive back to Viareggio tonight."

"As did I," he said. "I would prefer returning in comfort."

He trailed a hand down the smooth length of her arm, marveling at the  silken texture of her skin and the hint of floral scent that teased his  senses.

The tremor that streaked through her stroked his desire up another notch. He couldn't get her into bed soon enough!

Yet the ride from the dock to his yacht seemed endless. The cool breeze from the water failed to refresh him, either.

He wanted Gemma. Now that she'd agreed to be his assistant, he couldn't  think of anything else but satisfying this raw hunger she awakened in  him.

The walk from the mini harbor of his yacht to his stateroom seemed miles  away tonight. Her light floral scent drifted in the passageway while  the quick clip of her steps on marble sent blood pounding in his veins.

He pushed into his stateroom lit only by the muted accent lights. It was  enough to see by and complemented the sultry beat humming through his  blood.

"Bella," he said, turning her in his arms and kissing her.

She welcomed him with open arms and sultry kisses, her tongue dueling  with his in perfect tandem while her body moved against his with just  enough hesitation to stroke his ego.

He gladly would lead in this for he knew what would give them both  supreme pleasure. What stunned him was this odd sense that this was all  new for him as well.

A novelty? He didn't know.

Right now he didn't give a damn about whys and hows. Her small hands did  a slow crawl up his arms to send a new fire-storm of need coursing  through him.

He fumbled with the fastening of her clothes, something that he usually  dealt with, with ease. But this task was made more challenging because  he could not bear to take his mouth from hers. He didn't want to be  parted from her for a second.                       
       
           



       

She tasted of champagne and sizzling desire. Her body writhed against his in silent demand and he was eager to comply.

She responded so genuinely to each stroke, each kiss, that his own head  pulsed with the promise of intense pleasure. Yet the clothes that still  clung to her deprived him of exploring her at his leisure.

He set her away and began to strip her to the skin, hating the  restriction of his clothes as well, hating to forestall the inevitable.  "You drive me wild with desire."

She smiled a siren's smile and flicked the clasp at her shoulder,  releasing the slinky dress without effort. It glided down her body to  pool at her feet.

His breath caught as golden light kissed the upper swells of her  breasts, caressed her rounded hips and skimmed the dusky hair between  her thighs.

"You are beautiful," he said.

"So are you," she said and his ego swelled along with his obvious desire for her.

And why wouldn't he when she stared at him with blatant appreciation?  His skin felt too tight and his blood too hot to draw a decent breath,  for she didn't posture and preen. She did nothing but stand before him  beautifully naked while her gaze boldly caressed every inch of him.

It was another first for him, for the majority of his lovers had been intent on showing off their charms. Not so for Gemma.

She was as perfectly sculpted as the goddess of love. There was no artifice or trickery in her. Why hadn't he seen it before?

Because his mamma had believed her husband was being unfaithful and he'd  not looked beyond that. He'd accepted her word that her marriage was  failing.

Her demand for vengeance had nearly cost him the only woman he'd ever loved. Loved?

It couldn't be love, yet what else explained his obsession with her? The  blinding jealousy when he thought of her lying in another man's arms.  The sense of wholeness that encompassed him when he sank into her  welcoming heat.

She was his lover-only his!-and she'd be his for as long as he wished.  She'd been loyal to a fault with his father, holding the secrets he'd  begged her to keep.

Stefano wanted that loyalty himself. He wanted Gemma to be his assistant, his confident, his lover.

Marriage?

He pushed that thought aside. He was not ready to commit to that yet.  No, he needed to be sure that her affections were genuine. That she'd  come to him because she couldn't bear to be apart from him, either.

That her claim to want him for himself and not his money wasn't a lie.

"Mio amante," he said, savoring the silken glide of her skin beneath his  lips as he trailed kisses down the slender column of her throat. "Mio  amore."

The seductive sigh that whispered from her swelled his ego and his groin. "I love you."

His body jolted, his heart skipping a beat at her avowal of love. He'd  had lovers say them before. But he'd never heard the truth in them until  now. He'd never believed there was such power in three words until they  tumbled from Gemma's lush lips.

Of course she'd expect the same from him.

He loved her body. Loved her courage. Loved her loyalty. But as for this profession of his heart?

Stefano couldn't voice the lie. He wouldn't deceive her in this. He'd learned the hard way to guard his heart.

"This is just the beginning," he breathed before he sank into her and made them one.

She responded with sweet passion, her fingernails marking his back as  her muscles clutched at him. There was no greed or artifice in her  lovemaking, either.

She gave fully and he returned the passion with more tenderness than he'd known himself capable of.

Completion.

That was how it felt being with her.

It was a sensation that he looked forward to enjoying often. But he didn't delude himself into thinking it would last.

That would be a rarity.

That would mean he'd finally found the woman for him.

That would mean he could trust her fully and forever.

If he couldn't do that, then this passionate interlude with Gemma was just that. A stolen moment in time.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




GEMMA lay snuggled against Stefano's side, sated by his passion for now  and lulled by the steady beat of his heart. She'd never thought to  experience this deep emotional attachment to a man, especially so soon  after meeting him.