Taken by the Highest Bidder

With one hand he began to unfasten the first of the dozen tiny buttons on the back of her dress while he caressed her hipbone and thigh with the other. It was maddening, the touches. While her dress began to slowly open, Cristiano teased and tormented her inner thighs. She clenched and unclenched her legs, felt wanton for wanting his hand between her thighs, then frightened of giving herself up to him.

Patiently he worked his way down the back of her gown, lower and lower. Sam could feel the cool air on her shoulders and back. She hadn’t worn a bra as a bustier had been stitched into the bodice to provide shape and support and now that he’d opened the gown at the back he could peel the bodice away from her breasts.

He drew her to her feet, stood her between his knees and slowly tugged the gown off her breasts, over her waist and down her hips.

She was wearing a very simple cream lace garter and panty and nothing else. Sam blushed, looked away, incredibly self-conscious.

Cristiano caught her chin in his hand and turned her face to his, forcing her to look at him. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

“No—”

“Yes.” He drew her toward him, folding her into his arms so that her breasts were crushed against his shirt. “Yes, Signora Bartolo. Trust me on this one. I know.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FROM there, things moved quickly, although Cristiano had fully intended to take it slow. And he had been taking it slow, even after he’d peeled her gown off, exposing Sam’s gorgeous full breasts and her small waist and the rounded hips that made her all woman.

Lying back, he drew her down next to him, sliding his hands from her breasts down her ribs, over her hips and up again. She arched as he swept the warm soft length of her, arched and whimpered as his hands explored the small of her back and then the ripe curve of her pert derriere.

As she pressed herself against him, he groaned deep in his throat. Santo Cielo, did this woman have any idea what she was doing to him?

He wasn’t a saint, not like her. He did what he wanted, took what he needed, gave what he could. No more, no less. He didn’t live for others, had given up years ago trying to please others, and yet with Sam it was different. Luscious English Samantha made him want to turn the world upside down to please her.

Her skin glowed hot beneath his hands and he measured each of her ribs then down over her flat taut belly. Wife, he thought, fingers brushing the apex of her thighs. My wife. My woman.

She shifted as his fingers explored her, shyly opening her knees for him and the blood roared in Cristiano’s ears, drumming through his body. He was so hard he hurt, so turned on he felt dangerous. There was no more slow and gentle. He wanted her. Needed her. Was determined to possess her, thoroughly, completely so there could be no doubt she was now his.

Cristiano didn’t remember shedding his clothes but they were gone and he was rolling her beneath him, his hand parting her knees, teasing the satin skin of her thighs and then the even softer satin skin between her thighs. She was wet, warm and so damn willing.

And it wasn’t until he’d entered her, thrusting into her very tight body and he heard her gasp, that he realized he’d hurt her and his desire to possess her faded in the face of her pain.

“Sam,” he whispered, holding still, afraid to move for fear of inflicting more hurt. “Bella, what did I do?”

Her small hand stroked his back. “Nothing.”

But he felt the tension in her, her slender thighs taut on either side of his hips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, smoothing her long blond hair back from her face as he kissed her mouth and then her jaw and the soft skin beneath her ear. “I’m sorry. I thought you were ready.”

Her blue gaze met his and there was no anger there, no blame, either. “I was ready.”

“But I did hurt you.”

“It always hurts the first time, doesn’t it?”

For a moment he didn’t understand and then still buried in her body, awareness dawned. He pushed up on his elbows to take the weight of his body off her. “You’re—”

“Yes, but it’s okay.” She reached for him, clasped his face in her hands and brought his head down to hers. “I couldn’t be one forever,” she murmured against his mouth.