The Sicilian's Bought Cinderella

As he found her lips again, a distant thought told him he would never again see or taste his favourite fruit without thinking of Aislin and remembering the colour of her lips and the smell of her hair.

Her hold around his waist tightened and she pressed herself so closely to him not even a sliver could come between them.

Dante rubbed his hands down her arms and took her hands in his. He led her to the bed and sat her down, then gently parted her legs to kneel before her.

Like this, they were of equal height.

Gazing into the eyes he felt certain he could pick from a thousand others of a similar shade, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor beside him.

Her eyes widened and pulsed.

She reached a trembling hand and placed it to his chest.

He closed his eyes at the sensation her touch released in him.

Aislin could feel the thuds of his heart against her palm and felt the strangest urge to cry.

That was Dante’s heart beating so heavily for her. His smooth brown skin covered in dark hair that was softer than she had imagined, his brown nipples, his defined pecs, his taut abdomen.

This was him.

He was beautiful.

Slowly she caressed her fingers over him, soaking it all in with her touch and her eyes. She leaned closer and inhaled the musky scent of his skin and the overlaying spicy cologne. It was a dreamy combination that dived straight into her veins.

Then she continued with her fingertip exploration, dancing lightly down to the belt of his trousers.

Lifting her eyes to stare into his, the hunger gazing back at her knocked the air from her lungs.

She drank his potent hunger in, then leaned forward to press the lightest of kisses to his slightly parted mouth. Aislin closed her eyes and breathed in the scents she found. Coffee, liqueur and Dante himself all coiled like an invisible vapour to join the traces of his skin already committed to her memory and snaking deep in her bloodstream.

She tugged at his belt and kissed his neck. She tasted something indefinable. Dante.

When she finally had the belt undone she found the button of his trousers. As before, she struggled to undo it but there was no rush. Whereas earlier their pent-up desire had erupted and taken them on a soaring supercharged roller coaster, now there was a feeling of calm, as if they had all the time in the world to do all the things they had both dreamed of and fulfil all their unspoken desires.

These were desires that only a week ago had not existed in her.

A week ago, she might as well have been dead from the waist down. Sex and intimacy had had no meaning to her.

The tilting of her world and her awakening to desire no longer frightened her. Dante’s reputation no longer frightened her. Even the whispered thought that she would never have these feelings for anyone else didn’t frighten her.

If all they had was this weekend then it would be enough.

He leaned forward and brushed his cheek beside hers. His hand rested on hers and together they undid his button and pulled his zip down.

Then he kissed her neck and rose to his feet.

His chest rose sharply as he gazed down at her before removing his trousers and underwear to stand before her, fully, magnificently naked, erect in all senses of the word.

Her thundering heart twisted and her core pulsed and contracted.

Dante was beautiful. Every part of him.

‘I want to see you,’ he said thickly.

Keeping her eyes on his, she unbuttoned her dress at the neck and removed the crystal-studded belt. Then she lifted her bottom to ease the skirt of the dress up to her waist and pulled it up and off over her head.

She flung it away, uncaring where it landed.