His Cinderella's One-Night Heir

‘Live a little.’ Dante leant back against the door to close it before crossing the room to gently pull the bundle of clothing out of her too-tight hold and drop it to the floor.

‘But I’m working for you,’ she began urgently as she clutched at the precarious towel to ensure that it didn’t fall.

‘Any court in Europe would deny that our private arrangement has anything in common with a normal job, which is why we shouldn’t feel bound by stupid rules,’ he argued impatiently. ‘Those rules don’t apply to our situation and we don’t need to consider them.’

Live a little, he had said, and he could not know how deeply those words affected her because Belle was unhappily conscious that she had barely lived at all during her twenty-two years on earth. She had missed out on the supposedly fun-filled years of teenaged experimentation and had felt old before her time dealing with major responsibilities like terminal illness, household bills on a small budget and bereavement. With elderly grandparents, she had always had to be sensible and there had been an awful lot of rules to follow. Rules she was still faithfully following, she acknowledged ruefully.

‘I know I’m not that guy on your shopping list whom you would choose,’ Dante murmured. ‘But right now, I’m the one that you want...’

And the mad cacophony of warning voices in her head telling her to back away, go to her own bed and sensibly turn her back on the risk he presented, suddenly went silent. Yes, he was the one she wanted, the only one she had ever wanted, and all of a sudden holding out for that one perfect match of a guy who might never come along seemed spineless and sad. Dante had smashed through her defences because the bottom line was undisputable... I’m the one that you want.

‘That’s true,’ she framed shakily.

‘And it is equally true that I want you,’ Dante breathed, bending down to lift her up and settle her down on the bed. ‘Let’s not make it more complicated than that.’

CHAPTER FIVE

BUT IT WAS much more complicated than that, Belle thought helplessly as she watched Dante tugging loose his tie, shrugging free of his jacket. Where did they go from here? Was this a one-night stand, as it was called? Would they move on and act as if it had never happened for the duration of their time together? Would one act of sex kill the attraction between them? How was she supposed to know?

She was lying in a damp towel on a bed and common sense was telling her to throw it off, but she didn’t feel brave enough for that. Although she had been half-naked in his arms the night before, that had been different, and her lack of self-consciousness had been entirely due to the heat of the moment when no thought had been required from her and no single sensible thought had occurred to her. No, Belle was very much aware that such thoughts came afterwards, and nervous tension held her fast with Dante providing a very welcome distraction as he stripped.

He was very fit, she conceded numbly, sentenced to silence by awe and shyness as rippling bands of muscle sheathed in bronzed skin began to appear. He shed his shirt, toed off his shoes, peeled off socks, his sleek muscular development on continual display as he flexed and turned and straightened, his trousers hanging low on his lean hips, an intriguing ribbon of dark hair snaking down his flat stomach and disappearing beneath the waistband. He was beautiful, like some flawless fantasy brought to life in the flesh, she reflected, shutting her eyes circumspectly as the trousers slid down. She had felt his arousal, noticed, but she wasn’t going to stare while he was watching her like a hawk. Those clever dark golden eyes didn’t miss a trick and she didn’t want to embarrass herself and be guilty of doing that blushing-virgin thing that he had already mocked.

* * *

‘You’re as quiet as a mouse,’ Dante whispered, tugging gently at the edge of the towel as she held on to it. He was as aroused as hell and fighting to stay in control.

‘There’s too many lights on in here,’ she told him, violet eyes flying wide.

Without a word, Dante reached up and dimmed the lights to a more acceptable level. ‘Better?’

Belle nodded jerkily. Now that he was actually on the bed, naked and ready to proceed, nerves were swallowing her alive.

‘I want you to be sure about this,’ Dante breathed abruptly. ‘I don’t want you sharing this bed with me if you’re going to regret it. I don’t want to take advantage of you.’

‘I know you don’t...’ Involuntarily, Belle lifted her hand to his lean, darkly handsome face and ran soothing fingers across his brow, where he was frowning, her fingertips skating up into his silky black hair, smoothing down the tousled strands.

It was the warmth she emanated, Dante recognised in consternation. That was what had made him spill his guts the night before, that seemingly natural warmth and affection that had broken through his habitual reserve. That discovery about her and about himself, that he could actually be that impressionable, that easily influenced by a woman, unnerved him. Yet, in defiance of all the defensive instincts that urged him to back off and steer clear of such manipulation until he could get a better handle on it, he still leant down and kissed her as though his life depended on it.

From zero to ninety in seconds, she thrummed into life like a well-primed engine, Belle thought dizzily as he ravaged her parted lips with the kind of hunger that set her on fire. A jolt of high-voltage electricity shot through her, ensuring she was aware of every inch of her pulsing body and every point of contact where his hot, muscular body connected with hers.

‘This is the very best moment of my day, cara mia,’ Dante confided, undoing the clasp in her hair and tossing it aside before fanning out the tangle of her curls round her face.

The towel was gone and she hadn’t noticed it going, Belle registered in dismay as a lean hand travelled up over her ribcage to mould a pale, pouting breast, catching a straining pink nipple between thumb and finger to massage it in a way that sent little tremors down to her pelvis, ensuring that she became insanely conscious of the damp heat blooming there.

He used his tongue to tease her sensitive nipples and the little tremors picked up pace as he sucked on the swollen buds. Her hips shifted upward of their own volition and he flattened her to the mattress with the force of a sudden demanding kiss. Her hands went into his hair and locked there as he ground his hips into her, sending need rocketing up through her in a heady surge. Her body strained up to his and, by then, all her anxiety had fled because nothing had ever felt so necessary, so right or so good. Even the scent of him, dark and masculine laced with a spicy cologne that had already become familiar to her, was compelling.

He shimmied down the length of her, lean and lithe, parting her thighs, burying his mouth there with a fervour for that intimacy that shocked her. ‘You taste so good,’ he husked while she trembled all over with reaction, torn between wanting him to stop and wanting him to continue.

As exquisite sensation seduced her, she fought to stay in control, to stop panting for breath, to stop making little noises she couldn’t restrain and to still the urge to simply writhe. The pleasure was all-consuming, like a slow burn rising from the heart of her with his every spellbinding caress. Pulsating bands of tension tightened round the dull ache of need at the very heart of her, driving it higher until it peaked and set fireworks rocketing inside her, her whole body convulsing in physical delight.

‘If this hurts too much, I’ll stop,’ Dante swore, sliding over her, tipping her legs back. ‘Just tell me.’

‘OK,’ Belle mumbled, still semi-lost in the waves of bliss that had engulfed her as she felt his surge against her, hard and determined where she was soft and tender and yet, oh, so ready for him. There wasn’t a doubt in her head about what she was doing at that moment, not with everything feeling so new and fresh and Dante’s experience soothing her insecurities. His dark eyes were pure golden enticement as they held hers.

She skated her hands up and down over his smooth brown shoulders, enjoying the satiny strength

of him while irresistible sensation snaked through her as he slowly entered her, stretching her sensitive body. She quivered as the heat of excitement clenched her again and then a stabbing pain hit, and she gasped and he stopped dead.

‘I’m hurting you.’