She felt dizzy even in this position.
He reached down and lifted her under her arms, his big hands clasped around her ribs. He lifted her all the way until their mouths were parallel and then he kissed her.
She curled her arms around his head and tried not to faint from a wave of love so profound, she almost drowned under it.
This man was perfect for her in every way. Of course she loved him and it would be okay. He was worthy of her love.
He laid her on the bed and removed the pretty white underthings she’d worn just for him.
When she told him so in a husky voice unrecognizable to her, he smiled.
“You’re welcome to wear them again, but tonight, I don’t want anything between us, even provocative bits of lace.”
She agreed. She wanted nothing between them, either, not even the barrier of unspoken love, but that was one thing she could not remove.
She’d gone that route before, admitting her love and leaving herself vulnerable. She was married to this man. She had all the time she needed to show him it was safe to love her, too, that she wouldn’t leave him voluntarily like his mother had done or involuntarily like his father had done.
He made love to her then, starting off gently, but rapidly moving to a passion and urgency that left her sated and exhausted in the middle of the huge king-size bed.
Afterward, he wrapped himself around her and they slept in each other’s arms, only to awaken twice more in the night to make love again.
Angelo woke to the smell of coffee and the yeasty aroma of cinnamon rolls. He stretched, feeling more depleted than he ever had from the toughest Aikido session. Remembered pleasure made him groan as he opened his eyes, looking for his new wife.
Tara smiled at him from where she was lifting silver lids from the dishes on a room service cart. “I ordered breakfast.”
“It smells delicious.”
“I thought after last night that we both could do with sustenance.”
“Wore you out, did I?”
“You made me hungry anyway.” She winked saucily and he was reminded of her surprising friskiness the night before.
There had been something important to her about tying his hands and he’d worried when he untied them, he would be failing her, but she’d liked that part, too.
A charming, enigmatic, surprising creature was his wife. No wonder Baron had not wanted to let her go. The thought sent a shaft of annoyance through him and he dismissed it.
She’d never be Baron’s again. Tara was his now. That was all that mattered.
Angelo clasped his hands and stretched his arms, then tilted his head from side to side, working the kinks out. “I am hungry, too, stellina.”
“Then come have some breakfast,” she said breathlessly.
He looked at her and found her beautiful brown gaze riveted to his body. “Ahh…but that isn’t what I’m hungry for.”
She blushed delightfully and laughed. “That’s all that’s on offer at the moment. We need fuel. Or maybe you don’t,” she amended, looking at where the sheet tented from his body, “but I do. Have pity, Angelo, and come eat with me.”
He shook his head, laughing in a way he could never remember doing with a former lover, as he got out of the bed.
She was scandalized when he came to the table naked, but almost fell off her chair with laughter when he conceded to her modesty by tossing a napkin down over his lap.
They bantered and made love for the rest of the morning, never leaving their suite until they had to depart for their scheduled take-off time at the airport.
Tara was both obviously thrilled and sweetly nervous when he informed her they were flying to Sicily so she could meet his family.
“Finally.”
Tara looked up from her laptop. “Finally what?”
They’d been in Sicily for three weeks, but it hadn’t all been honeymoon and sexual intimacy. When she had expressed concern over her career, Angelo had been quick to offer her a dream job and set her up with her own mini office on the opposite side of the study from him in his villa.
She’d never lived or worked in such an opulent setting. What other junior manager worked at a desk that was an original Chippendale and slid her pumps off under said desk to curl her toes against genuine Italian marble? Not to mention having a staff of servants available to care for her every whim?
Was it any wonder she adored Angelo? He spoiled her rotten and every day, her love grew. She was starting to wonder if she really needed to hold back the words until he said them first.
Their relationship was unlike anything she had ever known before and he made it obvious he saw her as an equal, not a woman to be manipulated into being what he wanted.
Her husband’s voice had been so filled with satisfaction when he spoke that she wasn’t surprised by the look of triumph on his chiseled features.