They broke apart as Maria announced she had to get back to the rest of her children. “Are you coming to the house?” she asked Paolo.
“I’ve already made my apologies to Mama. I promised Lauren I’d take her south for our honeymoon. We’ll be back in a week.”
They were in the air to Sicily within thirty minutes. Something must have shown on Lauren’s face as she returned to her seat after changing in the very well-appointed bedroom on the private jet because Paolo gave her a laconic grin before rising to take his turn. “I don’t want to be interrupted and we’d have to take our seats to land.”
Oh. She was that obvious, was she? It took everything she had to act naturally as they ate a light lunch. Every cell of her being was locked on him, filling the air around them with an aura of sexual tension.
Once they landed, Paolo murmured something about her desire to see his country as he instructed their driver to take them on the coastal route from Catania to Taormina. The scenery was pretty enough, offering glimpses of clear blue waves lapping at stretches of sand and rocky escarpments interspersed with pockets of village life and tourist havens. Lauren appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she was ever aware of the silent man beside her, seemingly gripped in a similar stasis of impatience.
They climbed something the driver called Monte Tauro. The road entered a charming village high off the water and the grandness of the position and view of snowcapped Mount Etna prompted a wonder-filled “Oh” of reaction out of her. They passed a tram making a steep decline to the water and she craned her neck.
“It saves hiking down to the beach. The water is warm year round. We could swim if you’d like,” he said.
“You expect we’ll leave the villa?” she joked, her nerves strained to screaming pitch by the suppressed desire crackling between them.
Paolo laughed with rich appreciation and crushed her hand in his, fingers weaving between hers in a determined grip of possession. The car stopped and he pulled her out behind him into a sunny courtyard where bougainvillea bloomed in bursts of red on spidery green tendrils clinging to the stone walls of the house.
He dismissed the staff and brought the luggage in himself while Lauren moved through the lavish interior of the small home. Outside, the deck of the infinity pool seemed to drop into the horizon and she wedged herself into a corner of the terrace next to it, seeking the warmth of slanting sunshine as she savored the simmering sensuality inside her. Heat gathered in the stainless steel rail and each breath she took was a sexy inhale of anticipation.
“Are you hungry?”
Paolo’s graveled voice abraded her taut nerves. Suppressing a little shiver, Lauren shook her head, then quarter-turned to look at him.#p#分页标题#e#
The sun was in her eyes and he was in shadow. All she saw was the silhouette of his razor-sharp business pants and the way his muscles strained his shirt. Glints of light in her periphery, possibly reflections off the neighbor’s pool below, gilded his figure and threw his frame into a relief map of powerful male beauty.
Flutters of feminine response started in her abdomen. She involuntarily tensed against them, gripping the rail tighter as she saw the tornado forming and knew she couldn’t escape it. As her pupils adjusted, she received an impression of blazing eyes and a face lined with lust.
“Come here,” he growled.
Lauren gave a tiny shudder as though he’d shouted when his voice was only raspy with desire. At the same time, the glint in her eyes seemed to become more deliberate.
She raised a hand to shield her vision and glanced below. “I think there’s someone down there with binoculars.”
Paolo crowded into the small space next to her, nearly frying her mind, but the flash of a lens fixed on them like a laser pointer from one of the properties below.
“It’s fine,” he said, settling his hands on her waist to lightly force her into turning to face him. As her body brushed his, need flared inside her. It was all she could do to steel herself against him as her fingers draped his biceps in subtle resistance.
“But it could be paparazzi. Mom and the Bradleys don’t even know—”
“I called them last night,” he told her. “We needed declarations that there were no impediments to our marrying. Given your reservations about talking to your mother, I took the liberty.”
“You what!” She pressed back into the rail behind her.
“I asked her if we should wait until she was available to attend the wedding or make it official immediately. I realize that’s a clichéd negotiating tactic, giving her a choice between yes and yes, but it worked. She supports the marriage,” he said dryly.