A Dark Sicilian Secret

Her mouth dried as he rubbed her between two fingers and she rocked helplessly against his hand, responding with not just her body, but also her heart.

With him she was safe. With him she was home. There could never be any other place she belonged but with him.

“You’re mine,” he ground out, his voice husky in her ear. “And I’m going to fill you and make you mine, and you will always be mine.”

“Yes.” Because of course she was his. She’d always been his. It was inevitable from the very first meeting in the hotel lobby. Fate brought them together, and it was up to fate to keep them together.

She heard him unzip his trousers as he freed himself, and then with one hand he pressed the head of his hot, hard erection against the wet entrance to her body.

He teased her for a moment with the tip, rubbing it across her wetness, and then up and down over her softness until she panted with need. And once she moaned his name, he plunged inside of her, filling her all the way.

She sucked in air, and held it bottled in her lungs as her heart seemed to burst open inside of her.

She loved him.

She did.

He and Joe were everything. Life, breath, hope. She circled his neck with her arms, pressed her lips to his. “I need you forever,” she whispered.

“You have me forever,” he answered.

Tears burned her eyes. “Promise.”

“I promise.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.” He lifted her against the wall, hooking her leg over his arm to thrust into her even deeper, stretching her, filling her, making her one with him.

She gasped at the fullness of them together, overwhelmed by the warmth and the dizzying emotions and intense sensation. He thrust into her again and again, and with each thrust she knew he was making her his.

But then he’d known from the very beginning that she needed this hard, physical coupling to feel loved.

Making love with Vittorio always made her feel loved, but she needed it now more than ever when everything felt so unpredictable, when their connection felt so fragile.

She buried her fingers in his cool, crisp hair, pressed her face to his neck, her lips to his warm fragrant skin, aware of each long, measured stroke of him taking her, filling her. With each thrust he edged her closer and closer to that point of no return, pushing her past reason and control until she shattered in a thousand pieces. He climaxed as she came, and dipping his head he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her scream in a kiss.

CHAPTER TEN

WITH one arm still braced against the wall, Vittorio slowly withdrew, and struggled to catch his breath as Jill slid down the door to sit in a boneless heap on the floor.

Tucking himself back into his trousers, he drew up the zipper knowing his body had found release but his emotions were tangled, pleasure diminished by sorrow.

She’d been through so much. She’d lived through chaos and betrayal, grief and pain.

Her pain hurt him. He should have comforted her, not taken her savagely against the wall.

He understood why she used sex as a paste or plaster to smooth problems over, but why did he? He knew sex solved nothing. Sex just masked problems until they revealed themselves again.

Dark, wrenching emotion filled him as he glanced down at her. She sat on the floor and leaned against the dark paneled door. Her thick blond hair tumbled over her shoulders in disheveled curls, her white linen dress was creased around her slim hips, and her long bare legs stretched before her making her look fragile and so very vulnerable.

Because she was vulnerable. Heartbreakingly vulnerable. And now that he understood her secrets and pain, he wondered how she’d endured it. How she could lose so much—family, friends, home—and yet be so strong. So determined to make a good life for their son.

His lingering frustration morphed into admiration. She was such a fighter. Such a complex woman. Intelligent, sensual, mysterious, stubborn. Very, very stubborn.

His chest tightened as his gaze met hers. She looked up at him with enormous eyes. Whether she had brown eyes, or blue eyes, pink or purple, it didn’t matter. They were beautiful. She was beautiful. And he had never wanted her more.

Or needed to protect her more.