He'd closed his eyes, the dark fringe of his lashes stark against the sudden paleness of his skin. "Apologize." He grimaced. "The only defense I can bring is the sight of you naked … "
"Yes?"
"I had no idea that you were," he stalled once more, then sucked in a breath. "Inexperienced."
"A virgin."
"Si." He sighed. "I know it's no excuse, but when I kiss you … "
This was getting interesting. If she wasn't mistaken, her husband's skin was now slightly flushed, a streak of red on his high cheekbones. She let his words trail off and focused on his downward countenance with fascination. Dante Casartelli embarrassed? Apologizing?
"I will do better in the future," he stated without meeting her eyes.
"Do better?" He couldn't mean what popped into her head.
"I will control myself and my impulses." His gaze went again to the ocean. "I will ensure the experience is much better than what you've experienced thus far."
He sounded like he was negotiating a business contract with a disgruntled client. Could the man actually be talking about the mind-blowing experience she'd had in bed with him? She had to make sure. "Dante."
He finally glanced across the table at her, yet his eyes gave nothing away.
"Are you talking about the sex between us?"
"Si." His tone was cool and crisp. "I have not shown you the respect you deserve."
She didn't want his respect. She'd had a good healthy dose of it for the past month. The slight smiles, the distant touches, the blank looks. She much preferred the man she'd encountered in the garden weeks ago and especially the man she'd been in bed with not an hour before.
The man with heated skin and hard muscles. The man who groaned when she touched him and admitted his need for her. The man who lost himself when he came inside her.
Did he honestly want their sex life to be as dry and distant as their relationship outside of bed?
She would go insane.
The man could not possibly deny her the one thing this marriage gave her that she enjoyed. She wouldn't let him.
"You've got to be kidding."
His gaze narrowed. "I would not kid about such an important item in our marriage."
Once more, the business talk. Their sex life was an item? "How exactly are you going to be more respectful in the future?"
"I … " He ran an impatient hand through his black hair, ruffling it into a boyish tangle. "I will maintain more control. I will spend more time making sure you are satisfied."
The man was impossible. Amusement and an odd sort of affection crept through her. The man was serious. He genuinely didn't know how much he turned her on. And in. And out. She would have to prove to him his concern, his apology, and certainly his goal to respect her were not needed.
At least as far as their sex life went.
Closing her eyes, she stood and stretched. Although she couldn't see him, she still felt his gaze run down the length of her body like a brand. Slowly dropping her arms, she opened her eyes and walked around the table.
Her husband stiffened as she drew near, but didn't move.
Respect.
She laughed inside. She would teach him how to respect her. The way she wanted.
Her fingers slipped along his neck, and his heat and scent immediately rose. The smell of his skin, the mix of salt and musk and man whirled around her, binding her to him.
"Bella," he choked.
"I want you to show some of your respect for me right now," she whispered into his ear.
His jaw clenched and with one swift movement of his hand, she found herself on his lap, his strong arms holding her with ease.
"All right." His hot stare blazed at her. "I will show you."
His lips settled on hers with sultry, silky smoothness. He sipped and sucked and slowly mesmerized her with his skill. This was a totally different kind of sex than what she'd experienced with him earlier that evening. This was sweet and soft and leisurely. The man took his time, moving over her lips with silent concentration. At last, his broad tongue stole lightly into her mouth. Again, pleading and asking, never taking.
This kiss had the exact same effect on her as his passionate pursuit. Her body hummed and heated. Her nipples tightened to the point of pain. She wanted him to touch her there, she wanted him to smooth his wide palm on her and caress and pluck.
"Dante," she groaned when he raised his head.
"I have just begun."
His gaze moved across her sprawled body. Her head leaned on his shoulder, her legs swung loosely over the teak armrest. The heat from his body was like a living furnace beneath her, his hard length rigid against the small of her back.
His hand edged along her stomach, moving the soft cotton on her skin, making it itch to be released. She wanted to be naked for him, wanted his hands smoothing over her with no impediment. Trying to make her dream a reality, her hands rose to unbutton the dress, but he stilled her with one broad hand.
"Let me," he insisted. "When the time is right."
"Now," she demanded.
A slight smile curved his mouth into a wicked tease. "No. Let me show you some respect."
"I'm beginning to hate that word."
A low chuckle rumbled from his body into her core. "Patience."
His long fingers shifted across her cotton-covered breasts, pushing and pulling the fabric across her taut nipples until she arched and groaned. He murmured softly in Italian, and then, finally, unbuttoned the first button close to her chest. Yet instead of continuing down the length of her, freeing her, he dallied. His finger moved on her skin, testing the smooth texture, idling around a small mole on one of her breasts.
"This needs a kiss," he husked.
His lips was soft and light, barely touching her. An electric current spun through her entire body. It clattered and zipped from his lips to the mole to the center of her core and down into her smallest toe.
"Please," she begged.
"Si, I will please you."
He flicked another button open and explored the tiny patch of skin it exposed to him. Her breasts became heavy and hurting. Wanting his focused attention.
Another button. Her crazed brain remembered another slow unbuttoning from earlier, but this was torture in comparison. Then it had been merely a feast for her eyes; now it was an entire feast of the senses. His touch was all encompassing, her body totally tuned to his every movement. His heat and smell enveloped her in an unseen yet powerful energy force. His voice rumbled in her ear, a soft lilt of Italian that enflamed her mind and soul.
"Ah." Satisfaction laced his tone. "No bra."
His fingers slipped inside her open dress and at last, touched her nipple, plucking and playing.
Panting, she arched into his touch.
He chuckled. He was enjoying this, the fiend. Yet she was beyond taking back any kind of power. His hands swept across her more firmly, over one breast, then the other. She twisted and turned, moaned and moved as he stroked and touched and handled her with ease.
Another button.
Another.
His hands smoothed across the slight rise of her stomach and fluttered along the lace of her panties. Her legs fell apart, begging for his further exploration.
"All in good time."
Her eyes opened and she knew they shot daggers at him. "Stop the playing."
"I am only doing what you asked me to do." His dark brow rose, an arrogant question mark. Yet the golden gleam in his gaze told her he was as turned on as she was. "I am showing you respect."
His teasing drove her into madness. A flame of angered heat surged through her. She tried to jump out of his grasp, but he easily subdued her. "Let me go."
"Not a chance." With a grin, he settled her on his lap and continued his play. He focused on her breasts again and along with his hands this time, he bent down and used his talented tongue. The wet length soothed, then seared her nipples and again, she fell under his spell once more, moving with his every touch.
As his mouth seduced her breasts, one large hand moved to her stomach and this time cupped her between her thighs, feeling the heat and wetness beneath the silk of her panties.
"Sei bella," he sighed on her skin.
One long finger slipped up and down her crest, wetting the silk, touching the right places with an artist's finesse. Her legs moved further apart and her mind went completely blank. The only thing she knew was this man's warm mouth slipping across her breasts and his maddening, loving finger sliding and searching for her every sweet spot.