His Merciless Marriage Bargain

“Yes.”

“They’re so big.”

“They are dramatic, but they’ll suit you.”

“I hope you’re not spending money on me. I don’t want you to—”

“Don’t deprive me of the pleasure of treating you.” He tilted her chin up and slipped the slim gold post through the hole in her earlobe before attaching the back, holding the decadent earring in place. “Now the other ear.”

“This isn’t a treat. It’s called spoiling. The dress, the cape, the earrings.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever spoiled you before?”

“No.”

“That’s criminal. You deserve to be draped in jewels.”

Rachel couldn’t help laughing. “As if I were a courtesan in a Turkish harem?”

“Or a young bride, anticipating her wedding day.”

She flushed, blood surging to her cheeks, making her face feel hot and sensitive. “Now you’re making me nervous.”

“No need to be nervous. Enjoy being spoiled.”

She dipped her head to hide her blush. “Thank you for the gifts…for all of them.”

“My pleasure. You look beautiful.”

She glanced up, her smile unsteady. “I think, though, I know what you are doing.”

“And what is that?”

“You’re trying to break down my resistance. You want to win me over.”

Deep grooves bracketed his mouth. His bright blue eyes glowed down at her. “I’ve already won you over. You just haven’t admitted it yet.” His head dropped, and his lips brushed hers, lightly, fleetingly, sending a sharp tingle up and down her spine. “But you will, soon.”

* * *

The boat slid through the lagoon, the gondolier standing at the back, eyes sharp, seeing what they couldn’t, steering with hardly a splash. The night was so quiet and still with the fog. The streetlamps looked like distant balls of light. The stillness created a magic, and Rachel found herself holding her breath again and again, senses heightened and delighted.

They soundlessly slipped from one canal to another, turning corners she didn’t even see, easing under bridges that popped out of nowhere. She was grateful the gondolier knew the city so well because she was completely lost, and yet it felt good to give up control. It was almost a relief. She’d been fighting so hard to keep everything together and tonight she could control nothing—not the dark, or the fog, or the direction they were to go. She could only sit and feel, exquisitely aware of Giovanni next to her, his tall, imposing frame hard, his muscular body warm.

She couldn’t see far. Sometimes she saw nothing, but there were other moments when she could just make out the shape of a building, or the shadow of a person walking on the pavement, footsteps muffled by the fog. Every now and then the gondolier’s oar splashed, or they’d pass another gondola and the drivers would murmur a greeting as the boats slid by.

It was all a fantasy, she thought, a seductive dream that was lulling her, relaxing her so that she found herself leaning against Gio, letting him support her weight. She could feel his thigh against hers, and her shoulder against his chest. His arm was around her, his palm flat against her waist, his fingers just brushing her tummy, and it shouldn’t be anything, but it was. It was intense. It all felt dizzying and overwhelming and she was feeling things she had never felt before, and imagining his hand on her bare skin, his fingers caressing her, stroking her, finding the curve of her breast and the hollow between her legs.

She wanted him to touch her and explore her—

“You’re cold?” he said, his voice near her ear, feeling her shiver.

“Just a little,” she lied, almost boneless with need, before drawing a tremulous breath. He’d been right earlier. She was starting to fall for him. She wanted him and was teased by the idea of a life with him. No one had ever taken care of her before. No one had ever spoiled her or desired her, either…

But desire wasn’t love, and the risk was huge. She was falling for him; she could have her heart broken.

“We’re nearly there.” He held her tighter, closer, his fingers so very close to the apex of her thighs that she was stunned she hadn’t burst into flames.

She didn’t understand the attraction, or the emotions sweeping through her. She didn’t understand how she could be falling for someone who was also such a threat. Maybe the problem was that she had never felt this kind of intense physical attraction before. Maybe the problem was that she had never felt this way about anyone before. Her feelings were not intellectual, nor were they rational. Her feelings really weren’t feelings but hope and desire, fear and need. It began as a baffling, carnal desire that had bypassed her head to fill her body, humming in her veins, and had turned into a curiosity and hunger that made her want him to want her—not just her body, but her mind, and her heart—all of her.