And he would. He would—but first, he lifted her in his arms and rose from the bed.
“Where are we going?”
“To my room,” he said huskily. “To my bed. It’s where you belong, inamorata, where you always should have been.” He kissed her. “Where you will be, from this night on.”
HIS ROOM WAS SHADOWED, his bed high and wide.
They made love again, slowly, tenderly, until passion swept them up and Dante brought Tally down on him, impaled her on him, and watched her face as she rode him to fulfillment. They slept in each other’s arms and awakened again at dawn, Tally wordlessly drawing Dante to her, sighing his name against his throat as he rocked into her and took her with him to the stars.
When she awoke next, it was to the kiss of the morning sun. Dante lay next to her, head propped on his fist, watching her with a soft smile on his lips.
Tally smiled, too. “Hello,” she whispered.
He leaned over and kissed her mouth. “Hello, bellissima.”
She stretched with lazy abandon. The sheet dropped to her waist. Dante seized the moment and kissed her breasts.
“Sweet,” he murmured.
She smiled again. She might never stop smiling, she thought, clasping his face between her hands and pressing a light kiss to his lips.
“I love it when you kiss me,” he said softly.
She loved it, too. She could spend the morning like this, just kissing, touching, locked away from reality.…
Oh, God. Locked away from Samantha.
“Tally. What’s wrong?”
Everything, Tally thought, and it was all her fault. She moved out of Dante’s arms and sat up, suddenly conscious of her nudity.
Dante sat up, too, and caught her in his arms. “Talk to me. What’s the matter?”
“Sam’s an early riser.”
“Is that what’s worrying you?” Smiling, he drew her to him. “So is Mrs. Tipton.”
“Sam is my daughter. My responsibility. Not your housekeeper’s.”
“Damn it, Tally, don’t look away from me.” He clasped her face, forced her eyes to meet his. “Moments ago you were in my arms. Now you’re looking at me as if we’re strangers. Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Tell him what? That the long, wonderful night had been a mistake? Because it had been. Yes, he’d brought her to his bed, but nothing had changed. She loved him. Why lie to herself? She loved him, she always would…
And all he felt for her was desire.
It hadn’t been enough three years ago. It was why she’d decided to leave him, even before she’d known she was carrying his baby. She’d loved him so much that hearing him say he’d tired of her would have killed her.
Now she’d put herself in the same position. He wanted her because she’d defied him, but the novelty would wear thin. He’d tire of her as he had in the past and they’d be right back where they started, with one enormous difference.
This time, she wouldn’t be the only one who’d pay the price for her foolishness.
Samantha would pay, as well.
Her daughter. Dante’s daughter. God, oh God, oh God…
“Tally?”
She pulled free of his embrace, plucked his robe from the chair beside the bed and slipped it on.