Picture of Innocence

Lucy’s response was a low moan as quivering arrows of sensation shot from her breasts to her pelvis.

‘Perfect,’ he murmured, and his mouth closed over a pert nipple, his tongue licking and suckling.

Her back arched involuntarily, and little whimpering sounds of pleasure escaped her as with frightening expertise Lorenzo delivered the same erotic torment to the other breast, before he found her mouth again and kissed her long and deep as his hands caressed her skin, shaping her waist, her hips, her thighs …

She reached for him, her small hands clasping his shoulders, stroking around his neck, holding him closer, her fingers raking through the thick black hair of his head, desperate for more.

Suddenly he reared back. ‘I want you, Lucy. Dio, how I want you.’ He groaned and nudged her legs apart, to settle between her thighs, and she could feel the hard pressure of his erection against her pelvis as he pinned her to the bed, kissing her with a deep, demanding passion that aroused an answering passion in her—a need, a longing that banished any faint doubt from her mind.

The rough hair of his chest rubbed against her swollen breasts, and her body felt electrified by the heat, the power of him. He kissed her throat, her shoulders, his mouth hard, and one hand curved under her hips to lift her slightly.

His mouth found the rigid tips of her breasts again, suckling first one and then the other, while his other hand dipped between her thighs, his long fingers exploring the hot moist centre of her with devastating skill.

She writhed achingly beneath him, her nails digging into the satin-smooth skin of his shoulders. She was white-hot with wanting, her need for him shuddering through her, the emotion so intense it was almost pain.

He lifted her hips higher, her legs involuntarily parted wider—and he was there, where she ached for him. She groaned as she felt him ease into her. There was the slightest twinge of pain as her moist sheath stretched to accommodate him, then exquisite hot, pulsating power as Lorenzo thrust slowly deeper and then withdrew.

Her body screamed with tension and she locked her legs around him, frantic for him to continue. He thrust again, deeper and faster, possessing her completely, and she cried out as her body convulsed in a million explosive sensations so intense her breath actually stopped with the sheer ecstasy of it all. She was aware of one last mighty thrust as her internal muscles still convulsed around him, and gloried in the great shudders that racked Lorenzo’s huge frame. She was filled with a sense of oneness, a completion she had never imagined existed.

Lorenzo rolled off Lucy, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding and his head spinning. She was everything he had expected and much more. She was so responsive … He couldn’t remember losing control so completely ever before in his life. Of course he had been without a woman for a while, he rationalised, and, turning, he looped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her pliant body against his side.

‘Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?’ he asked. She was so small, so tight, that for a fleeting moment he had wondered if she was a virgin, but had quickly dismissed the thought. Lucy was obviously a woman of the world.

‘No—quite the reverse,’ she murmured softly, in a voice full of emotion at the wonder of him. She laid her hand on his broad chest. ‘I am better than okay—sublime.’ Rising up on one elbow, she leant over him and pressed a kiss on his chin—the highest she could reach. ‘You, Lorenzo, are nothing like the staid banker I thought.’ She looked up at him, her green eyes dazed with love, and gave him a languorous smile. ‘You’re brilliant, the most perfect lover in the … ‘ She was about to say world, but a wide yawn stopped her.

‘Glad to be of service,’ he said softly. Running his hand through the tumbled mass of her hair, he smoothed it from her face and dropped a gentle kiss on her brow before folding his arms around her.

Lucy buried her head on his chest and, safe in the cradle of his arm, fell asleep.

Lucy slowly opened her eyes and blinked as the early-morning rays of the sun shining through the window dazzled her. For a moment she was disorientated and, yawning, stretched her slender body. She felt aches in places she had never felt before and, dreamlike, the events of the night fluttered through her mind.

She glanced across the bed and saw the indentation in the pillow and realised it wasn’t a dream but reality. She had made love with Lorenzo Zanelli not once but twice … The first time had been incredible, and she’d thought nothing in the world could be better, but Lorenzo had proved her mistaken.

She had fallen asleep, exhausted, and it might have been minutes or an hour later when she’d awoke to find the bedside light on—just as a naked Lorenzo had strolled out of her en suite bathroom. What had followed had been a revelation in eroticism.

With a skill and an expertise she could only marvel at he had kissed and caressed her, encouraging her to do the same to him, and she had in the process discovered a sensual side of her nature she had never known she possessed. Finally Lorenzo had made long, slow love to her, almost driving her out of her mind as he’d taken her to the brink of paradise over and over again, until in the end she’d been begging for the release that only he could give her.

She looked around the room. No sign of his clothes—he was gone.

She closed her eyes and groaned, blushing at the thought of how wantonly she had behaved. Lorenzo probably though

t she behaved that way with any man and considered her nothing more than a one-night stand. Mortified, she pulled the coverlet up over her naked body.

‘A little late for modesty,’ a deep, dark voice drawled, and she opened her eyes to see Lorenzo walking towards her.

‘I thought you had gone,’ she blurted, pulling herself up into a sitting position and tucking the coverlet under her arms while her eyes drank in the sight of him. He was dressed in the same grey suit, slightly crumpled now, and his white shirt was open at the neck, revealing the slightest glimpse of his dark chest hair. In his hand he held a mug of coffee.

‘As if I would, after what we shared and I hope we can share again,’ he prompted and, crossing to the side of the bed, deposited the mug of coffee on the bedside table. ‘For you—I thought you might need the caffeine.’ And he gave her a wicked smile that made her blush.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and picked up the mug and took a long drink of coffee. Lorenzo hadn’t walked out on her, and he obviously did not think of her as a one-night stand. He wanted to see her again—he had said so—and his words warmed her heart and squashed all her doubts. ‘You are right—I did need that.’ She grinned up at him. ‘But you should have woken me. You’re the guest—I should have made it for you.’

He sat down on the bed and, leaning forward, lightly brushed her lips with his. ‘No, it was my pleasure, Lucy. You are one very sexy lady. And you had a long day yesterday and an even longer night.’

His dark gaze met hers and she could not look away. The latent sensuality in his eyes was mesmerising her. A heated blush coloured her cheeks, and other parts of her were equally warm. ‘Even so … ‘

‘No, don’t argue. I thought you needed to sleep, but then I remembered you told me Sunday was one of your busiest days in the tourist season, and you open at ten. So I decided to leave before anyone turns up.’

‘What time is it?’ Lucy demanded, panicking. Her head had cleared of the sensual haze Lorenzo’s presence seemed to cause.