The Italian's Inherited Mistress

‘I think I can promise that,’ Alissandru husked, turning over to find the centre of her and establish his ownership with a sure expertise that made her writhe.

She found his mouth again for herself, arching up to him, needy in a way she had never allowed herself to be before, her entire body screaming for her to rush to the finishing line.

Alissandru loosed a hungry growl as she pushed against him, startled to register that he was struggling to hold on to his control because Isla’s need for him set him on fire. It had never been like that for him. He was as disciplined with sex as he was with everything else in his life, but his desire for Isla was hard to quench. He flipped her over onto her knees and sank into her with a hoarse sigh of unapologetic pleasure.

Isla was so excited she didn’t know which part of her was more inflamed. Her heart was thumping so crazily fast it was threatening to burst out of her chest. She was on a sensitised high of receptiveness. The throb at the tender heart of her was almost unbearable and then he was there where she most needed him to be and the intensity of that first forceful plunge sent her flying higher than the stars, her body clenching tight and exploding with scorching sensation, leaving her clutching at the metal headboard of the bed to stay in position.

But the sweltering heatwave of pulsating response only continued as he increased his tempo, grinding into her with an insistent power that drove her straight onto another high. The fierce paroxysms of pleasure blew her away until she finally collapsed under him, catching his cry of release as he hauled her to him in the aftermath, melding their hot, sweat-dampened bodies together with an intimacy that she found incredibly soothing.

‘It’s never been like this for me,’ Alissandru breathed raggedly, burying his nose in the soft springiness of her strawberry-scented curls, feeling the slight weight of her on top of him, shaken to experience the first glimmerings of renewed arousal at the same time. ‘We light up the sky.’

‘You walked away from it the first time,’ Isla could not resist reminding him, because she took everything he said with a large spoonful of salt, determined not to overestimate her worth in his eyes.

‘We barely knew each other,’ Alissandru reminded her wryly. ‘And maybe I did twin you with your sister more than I should’ve done...’

In the darkness, Isla smiled at that grudging concession, which she had thought she would never hear.

‘But nothing lasts for ever...particularly at our age,’ Alissandru continued, to ensure that she didn’t start thinking that their affair would be of the long-haul variety.

In silence, Isla gritted her teeth at that unnecessarily cool reminder. She didn’t believe in fairy-tale happy ever afters. As a child she had continually dreamt that her mother would reclaim her and sweep her off to a more exciting life with her and Tania in London but it had never happened. In the same way as a teenager she had dreamt of the perfect man coming along and that hadn’t happened, either. And then there had been the miscarriage and the loss of her first child. There had been few truly happy events in Isla’s life and she was inured to disappointment. She preferred to concentrate on reaching more practical goals that would improve her life.

She would sell the house and get onto a course that would hopefully win her a place at university. As always work and effort would be what won her better prospects. With that thought in mind, she murmured drowsily, ‘Relax, I’ll be bored with you within a couple of weeks... You may be my “first” but you certainly won’t be my last.’

The burn of hot liquid rage that flew up through Alissandru in answer to that forecast made him flinch. That was what he wanted to hear, he told himself decisively. It wasn’t a rejection, or a criticism of his performance, it was only reality. In all likelihood he would get bored first, although he was anything but bored at that particular moment, he conceded grudgingly. There was no need to make a major production out of the discovery of great sex or imagine that it was anything more. No, the wiser approach was to make the most of any unexpected gift of pleasure and let the future take care of itself.

* * *

‘I’m taking you shopping,’ Alissandru announced at eight the following morning as he rifled through the wardrobe where she hung her few outfits. ‘You haven’t got enough clothes.’

‘If you take me shopping you have to promise to keep your wallet closed,’ Isla said quietly.

Alissandru ignored the proviso and tossed a plain white sundress on the bed. ‘Come on, get up,’ he urged impatiently. ‘We’re heading back to the palazzo for breakfast.’

‘The palazzo? I thought you ordered breakfast to be delivered here?’ Isla exclaimed in consternation, only halfway out of the bed. ‘Besides, your mother’s there.’

Alissandru groaned. ‘My mother lives in her own entirely self-contained wing of the house and she would never dream of using the connecting door when I’m at home or I have a guest.’

Isla was unconvinced. ‘But how will she know you have a...er...guest?’

‘The staff will warn her.’

Isla sped into the bathroom, unnerved by the prospect of the staff that would report back to his mother, and then she scolded herself for worrying about something that was quite immaterial. Soon enough she would be leaving Sicily and only a vague memory because she was unlikely to ever return. What did it matter what anyone thought about her or her morals? Her grandparents had lived in a small tight-knit community where their reputation as a respectable family and the opinion of the neighbours had ruled their lives. Isla lived a much more anonymous life.

Alissandru noticed how Isla walked several steps away from him as if she were some chance-met stranger he had encountered on the drive and renewed irritation assailed him. He closed the gap and grabbed her hand to anchor her to his side, faint colour edging his cheekbones as she shot him a look of surprise. Holding hands? he derided. What the hell had he been thinking of? And how did he execute a smooth retreat?

Isla was disconcerted when Alissandru spun her close in full view of the palazzo and crushed her lips under his with all the enthusiasm of a man who had been held at bay for weeks. As he released her hand, she kissed him back, breathless and bubbling with sudden energy and happiness. She slid her hand shyly back into his before they headed for the front doors.

The dining room was a much smaller version of the room that had been used for entertaining the night before but, for all that, the table had been beautifully set with shining cutlery and beautiful crystal while Octavio was hovering beside a maid in charge of a large trolley.

‘What do you usually eat for breakfast?’ Isla asked casually.

‘This morning I’m starving,’ Alissandru confided with glinting amusement brightening his gaze as she coloured.

And Isla had to confess that, as soon as the silver domes were lifted on the cooked foods available, her stomach felt as though it were meeting her backbone.

Alissandru watched with satisfaction as Isla demonstrated the healthiest appetite he had ever seen in a woman and, having polished off a heaped plate, finished with a croissant and a cup of very rich hot chocolate.

‘We have a busy day ahead of us,’ he told her, lounging back in his chair.

‘We?’ she queried.