Bartering Her Innocence

* * *

Dinner had been interminable. He’d wanted to be seen. He’d planned to give time for his dinner companion to have been photographed and image searched and found to be someone with links to him. But still it had taken too long—far too long when what he most wanted was to have her in his bed. But it had been necessary.

It shouldn’t take anyone curious too long to work out.

His uncle’s widowed wife’s daughter.

She wouldn’t be hard to trace, not with today’s search technology. Soon there would be articles in newspapers and magazines. Soon the world would know she was living in his palazzo and that they were an item.

A few more outings and the papers would blow it out of all proportion and wedding bells would be predicted and gambled upon.

And she would start believing it herself.

That was when she would be the most vulnerable.

That was when she would be starting to believe the fairy tale. And she would. Even now, for all her protests of hating him, she melted in his arms like wax.

She was his.

She’d made that plain last night with her impromptu striptease, when she’d offered herself to him on his desk. She’d made that plain the way she’d stunned herself with the force of her orgasm.

Soon she would forget all about hating him and start believing in dreams.

And that was when he would unceremoniously dump her.

But that was later.

First there were more carnal pleasures to be enjoyed.

Starting now.

The bedroom lighting was low, the air body temperature, the wide bed turned down on both sides. He smiled as he closed the door to the suite behind him, watching the seductive sway of her hips as she headed across the room, liking the way the dress clung to her curves. He liked her in that dress. It would be such a shame to tear it off.

Then again...

‘Where are you going?’

She stopped, looked over her shoulder at him. ‘My dressing room. I’m guessing you expect me naked for tonight’s performance.’

‘What? No impromptu striptease tonight?’ he asked, flicking open the top button of his shirt, tugging at his tie. ‘No office antics?’

She blinked, golden eyes glinting and hard, watching him remove the cufflinks from his shirtsleeves. She made a move to walk away.

‘Come here.’

‘I don’t take orders from you.’

‘Come here,’ he repeated, his voice velvet over steel.

‘Why? So you can rip this dress off like you would...like the caveman you like to keep dressed up under those fancy Italian suits of yours? Nobody’s fooled, Luca, least of all me.’

‘Maybe you should come here and find out.’

Fire flared in her eyes, shooting flames straight to his groin.

‘I like this dress, I don’t want it ruined.’

‘I like it too, as it happens. Maybe I just want the pleasure of peeling it from your body.’

‘Fine,’ she snapped, ‘have it your way.’ But there was a husky edge to her grudging agreement that signalled she wasn’t as in control as she made out, even as she crossed the room and spun around in front of him, presenting her back.

Not so fast, he thought. Instead of reaching for the zip, he put his hands on her shoulders and dipped his mouth to the place where her throat met her shoulder. Her gasp was his reward, her tremor was his vindication.

‘You see,’ he murmured against her throat, ‘even the caveman can play nice.’ And she trembled again.

He ran his hands down her arms, taking his time to drink in the feel of her smooth, toned limbs, curling his fingers possessively around hers before starting the long road up. There was plenty to enjoy. There was plenty of time. Last night’s lovemaking had been so rushed, he’d missed a lot.

And there was so much more to explore. His fingers found the catch of her zip and he slid it slowly down, letting just one fingertip trail a line down the skin beneath. Another involuntary gasp from his reluctant playmate and the temptation to slide his hands underneath the fabric and ease it over her shoulders and be done with it was almost too much.

Almost.

Instead he spun her around and cradled her jaw in his hands, lifting her face towards his. Her lips were parted, her breathing shallow and fast and her amber eyes swirled with confusion. There was resentment there and heated anger, but there was a flicker of vulnerability too in those amber depths, a flicker that was almost endearing.

‘Where is your caveman now, Valentina?’ he asked, searching her face, watching her mouth and those lips, parted and panting and just begging to be kissed. He wasn’t about to disappoint them. He dipped his head and brushed her lips with his and sighed with the simple, exquisite pleasure.