Yet, in spite of those reassuringly cautious reflections, Valente could not stop studying his wife’s attractions, nor seeking to pinpoint the source of them. She did that looking-up-through-the-eyelashes thing that all women did to flirt, yet in spite of her essential innocence there was a curiously sultry gleam of promise in her misty grey gaze that made the fit of Valente’s well-cut trousers uncomfortably tight. He regarded her broodingly from below luxuriant lashes, resenting the fate that would remove her from his bed when he most wanted her there, despising the ache at his groin. It would do him good to cool off without her for a few days.
Her body was already reacting without her volition to the growing heat of Valente’s appraisal. Her nipples were pushing against her green lace bra, her breasts felt constricted in the cups, and her heart was racing. And, angry though she still was with him, she could neither stifle that physical tumult of response nor break the hot connection with his gaze.
Valente reached a sudden decision. There would be plenty of time for him to cool off while she was in England with her family! She was his wife. He didn’t need to practice self-denial now. Who was he trying to impress? He swept up the phone to cancel all his appointments, unmoved by his senior PA’s astonishment at his instruction because business always came first with Valente. But if there had ever been a good excuse for breaking the rules it was Caroline, sitting there, huge pearl-grey eyes pinned to him, a silk top lovingly moulded to her delicate curves, a short floral skirt revealing her long slender legs.
He extended a lean long-fingered hand to her. ‘Come here…’
His charisma proved stronger than her antagonism or her wariness. Quivering with tension, she took his hand and he pulled her close. She buried her head in his shoulder and drank in the gloriously familiar scent of him before she let him walk her back into the palazzo-through the grand drawing room, with its superb Murano glass chandeliers adorned with flowers and cupids, and up the stairs to the remarkable master bedroom suite, with its hand-painted murals of frolicking gods and goddesses.
‘Take off your jacket,’ she told him, standing dead centre of the room.
Amusement gave a dazzling edge to his handsome smile. The jacket was cast aside with a flourish. Caroline undid his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. Although she was absolutely determined to be a full partner, her hands were a little shaky, and he yanked his shirt out in the same moment that he bent his arrogant dark head and kissed her, long and hard and hungrily, one hand meshed in her hair to hold her still and deepen the penetration of her tongue. Liquid lightning travelled through her, firing up every skin cell with anticipation.
With a hungry groan and a dangerous light in his scorching golden eyes, Valente freed her and stepped back from her. ‘I’m sorry, I must be scaring you, gattina mia. I’m too fired up to be gentle. Perhaps this is not a good idea.’
Caroline stretched her taut shoulders before moving forward, confidence fizzing through her veins like a shot of adrenalin. She wanted to be the same as every other woman. She didn’t want him to hold back and handle her with kid gloves, as if she was precious glass he might crack. She didn’t want him to protect her from his passion. He had already taught her that all cats were not grey in the dark. She had gone way beyond the stage of expecting Valente to hurt her or scare her, as Matthew had once done.
‘I’m not scared any more,’ she whispered urgently. ‘I liked that kiss. I like the feeling that you’re on the edge…’
His burning gaze made her blush, and he urged her back to him with impatient hands, covering her ripe mouth with his while he backed her down on the bed. ‘I’m always on the edge with you,’ he admitted roughly. ‘But if you’re still virgo intacta, I can’t promise that this won’t hurt a little. I don’t know. You’re my first virgin.’
Caroline wanted to be his one and only, his last. But desire and the need to experience what other women took for granted had a headier hold on Caroline than the emotions that had brought her hurt and humiliation only the day before. Her body still humming from the erotic mastery of that kiss, she whispered tautly, ‘I want you, and I don’t want to wait any longer.’
It was all the encouragement that Valente needed. Between kisses he extracted her from her fine silk top, pausing to admire the rigid pink buds already poking through the lace of her bra. His hunger at a tormenting high, he bent her back and suckled those ripe buds through the delicate lace, shifting between one and the other while she gasped and jerked. He pushed up her skirt, parted her thighs, scored his finger down over the taut seam of fabric and felt the dampness there with an earthy groan of satisfaction.
‘I used to dream of having you dressed up in the most expensive lingerie,’ he confided with dark amusement as he released the fastener on her bra. ‘But now I’ve got you in it, I just want to rip it off you again.’
He stripped her naked with very little regard for the longevity of the items, but she didn’t care because he was kissing her in hungry, breathless bursts that made her tingle all over. He addressed his attention to her rose-tipped breasts, sucking on the distended tips until she was almost unbearably aroused. And then, when she thought she could take no more, when she was crying out to be touched, he traced the tender damp folds of her womanhood and parted them to discover her narrow channel. His thumb rubbed the swollen pouting bud below her mound, and from that moment on she was writhing and drowning in sensation so intense it was an exquisite torment.
By the time Valente rolled her under him she was so excited that her every skin cell yearned for the next step. He pushed a pillow under her hips to raise her. ‘You’re very small, and I’m shockingly excited, tesoro mia.’
She was more than ready for the hard, hot probe of his separating the tight wet walls of her most tender flesh. Instinct made her arch back and his passage eased. He sank into her in a long, deep surge of power, and there was a sharp flash of pain which made her tense up and bite her lip. But even that didn’t stop her glorying in the strong feel of him inside her, didn’t stop her tightening her inner muscles and watching his beautiful dark golden eyes semi-close with sexual pleasure.
‘Okay?’ he prompted anxiously.
‘Better than,’ she told him shakily. ‘I like it.’
‘I hope so,’ Valente traded with an erotic smile. ‘I have high hopes of persuading you to repeat this pleasure over and over again.’
And, while she was more than satisfied at the wondrous intimacy of his possession, she was thoroughly stunned by the delight of what happened to her when he began to glide in and out of her eager body. Excitement blazed a trail through her and she clung, surrendering to the hot, drugging pleasure of his every thrust. She cried out at the passionate peak of the orgasm which sent her shooting to the stars.
‘I want to pack you in my suitcase to take back to England,’ Caroline confessed dizzily.
Valente laughed out loud and leant over her to kiss her, smoothing her tumbled hair off her damp brow. ‘I hope that was a compliment, because I found you amazing, belleza mia.’
With every fibre of her being she wanted to hug him and kiss him and express her emotions, but she rigorously suppressed those promptings because they could only embarrass her. There was going to be no more of that nonsense! No more emotional outpourings calculated to stroke his ego!
‘You were amazing too-but then that’s only to be expected with all the exper
ience you’ve had,’ Caroline replied carelessly. ‘At least I don’t need to be afraid of sex any more, and we can have as much fun in bed as you like. After all, it has to be the only thing we have in common.’
Valente was not quite sure how to take that assurance, but he didn’t like the tone of it. ‘We are married,’ he reminded her seriously.
‘Sexually speaking,’ Caroline added. ‘How long will it be before you get bored with me?’
Valente sat up and sent her a flashing glance of censure. ‘I’m not going to get bored with you. You’re my wife!’
‘Does that mean you’re going to be the only lover I ever have?’ Caroline enquired, in a forlorn tone of disappointment.