The Prodigal Prince's Seduction (Castaldini Crown 2)

He threw his head back in exultation and relief. “This is one dream we’re not waking up from. This I promise, too.”

And she did something that made his whole being quiver as if it were about to explode.

She curled up against his heart and subsided. The extent of trust in the gesture almost brought him to his knees with emotions he’d never experienced. Gratitude, humility.

He crushed her to him, drank her down to her last moan. She only gave more, rubbed against him, opened her lips over any part she could reach of him and her legs as far as her pencil-slim skirt would allow, offering all the exquisiteness and passion that was her. He wanted to probe her, go berserk on finding her soaking, burning, crazy for everything he’d do to her. Then he wanted to do it all.

But something niggled at him. Something vital. He couldn’t remember what. His mind had shut down, her arousal hitting him like a full-body blow. He’d better put the plan he’d just come up with into action, keep her with him until he remembered. He held her off, cupped her face. “Tell me, Gabriella mia, how do you feel about flying?”

Gabrielle had said she felt fine. About flying. And Durante had kissed more of her sanity away before walking out.

He now returned, a force of nature enveloping her as he led her out to his soccer field of a veranda.

She squinted into the sun as it glowed red on its descent into the ocean. Flying, huh? Literally or figuratively?

She wouldn’t put anything past him.

Then they turned a corner against the high-rise wind, and it all made sense. As much sense as finding herself staring back at the gleaming black vicious beauty crouching in the middle of a large yellow circle on the ground.

He had his own freaking copter and helipad right outside his veranda door! With seventy-foot rotors, a passenger compartment big enough for half a dozen people and an outer body right out of some sci-fi flick.

Which really figured. When you had a fleet of jets, why not a multimillion-dollar toy to avoid the hassle of traffic jams?

Durante strapped her with utmost care on board the futuristic vehicle, taking the pilot seat, performing all safety measures then launching them in the air. She felt she’d left her stomach on the ground, along with a few nerves that snapped as she had her first personal encounter with seeing land recede almost beneath her feet.

He touched her gently, as if he knew, as he always seemed to know what she felt. Then he seemed to remember something major.

He’d cleared the city and veered out over the endlessness of the ocean, when he looked at her with that tenderness she’d never seen in another man’s eyes and murmured, so quietly that she was stunned to hear him over the drone of the rotors, “Are you safe?”

She nodded before she realized what he was talking about. Then she contemplated jumping out. She couldn’t have this conversation. Yeah, right. And this reluctance had to be some new standard for stupidity.

She was willing to have sex with him, but not to discuss protection from its risks?

She forced herself to spill all she had to say on the subject in one go. “I am. In every way. Checked and rechecked, although I never neglected protection. I also protected myself just in case. Measures still in place. I’m also at a safe time. I’m certain.”

He made her breathing difficulties worse when he murmured, “I’m safe, too. I never neglect protection. But I can’t even think of using it with you. I want to feel you without barriers and scorch you with my pleasure as you scorch me with yours.” When she gurgled something he turned to her, serious, placating. “Don’t feel under any pressure to agree. I’m just telling you how I feel. I’ll arrange for protection to be delivered—”

“I don’t want you to use it, either,” she blurted out.

His eyes flared his satisfaction. It was all she could do to draw in enough air to keep from passing out.

In less than fifteen minutes she saw their destination. His yacht, moored miles offshore.

He landed on the uppermost deck where they’d had their first conversation on board. He turned off the motor, jumped out and was at her side in what felt like a flash, undid her belt and carried her down. She let him. She couldn’t have walked if she tried.

He put his lips to her forehead as the sun dipped into the water, setting in a conflagration of color.

Suddenly the languorous spell of the moment fractured. He was putting her down, tenderly, languidly, but still letting her go. He took a few steps backward, the crimson rays of the departing sun striking turquoise lasers off his eyes.

Then he slowly, oh so slowly undid his tie.

She watched every movement of his large, beautiful hands, his corded neck as he flexed it and pulled the tie from around it, then his sculpted fingers as they finally held the tie away from his body, like a magician showing his audience the setup of his trick before he executed it. He let the tie go.

It plummeted, the silk sighing as it hit the deck.

He licked his lips, made her feel as if he’d licked hers then continued down the trail his eyes traveled down her middle. “Your turn.”

Chapter Ten

Gabrielle shot a panicked look around, the warmth of the June day seeming to rise into raging heat instead of cooling with the sunset.

“Here?” she gulped.

“We have the place and the ocean to ourselves, bellissima.”

So this was what he’d arranged during those minutes away.

It thrilled her that he gave her this freedom from scrutiny. It also terrified her, how much she wanted to take advantage of it, lose every inhibition. She wanted to attack him with kisses, but…

What if it was her? What if even wanting him this…terribly, she still felt nothing? Where would she be then?

Where she’d be anyway, eventually. Out of his life. So she just had to take what she could. Whatever the outcome.

As for what to take off, the logical thing was her jacket.

She was done doing things logically. Her logic had messed up her life so far. It was obviously essentially flawed. And logic said this couldn’t be happening. But it was. And how. So to hell with it.

Elation simmered from her bones outward as she slowly, oh so slowly took off…her watch.

His face blazed in wicked delight when she let it fall to the deck, simulating his actions to the last move.

“Tormentress,” he rumbled, took off his cufflinks.

She raised him her earrings. He surrendered his phone. She reciprocated with her hair clip. He threw down his checkbook.

The challenge arced between them in currents of elation and stimulation. She’d never laughed so freely with anyone. Or at all. And to be laughing even as longing melted her insides—that was unreal. And yet it felt like the only real thing she’d ever experienced.