A Scandal Made At Midnight

‘But people are expecting you,’ Liane protested. ‘They’ll wonder why you haven’t shown up.’

‘Then let them wonder. After last night’s photo, they’ll think we’ve run away together.’ His blood heated at the thought.

‘And do you really want them to think that?’ Liane asked in surprise.

‘I don’t care what they think.’

Her gaze flitted away from his, and then resolutely back again, heat shimmering like gold in their violet depths. ‘What now?’ she whispered unsteadily.

He chuckled softly as he felt the answering flare of need fire through his body. ‘We enjoy the expectation,’ he murmured. ‘And we drink champagne.’

‘Champagne?’ She sounded endearingly scandalised. ‘It’s ten in the morning!’

‘So?’ One of his staff silently appeared and Alessandro asked for a bottle of Cristal. ‘We’re celebrating.’

Her mouth kicked up at the corner. ‘I suppose we are.’

He sat down opposite her and reached for her slender hand, taking it in his. It felt small and cold as he pressed it between his palms. ‘Are you regretting your decision?’

She shook her head, the movement almost vehement. ‘No, not at all.’

‘You’re sure?’ He desperately wanted her to be.

‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m just nervous.’

‘You don’t need to be.’

Her mouth quirked wryly. ‘You can say that because you’ve probably wined and dined thousands of women before taking them to your bed.’

‘Hardly thousands.’ And they faded to insignificance in light of this moment.

‘Yes, but this isn’t new for you, the way it is for me.’

‘It’s new for you?’ He kept himself from admitting just how new it all felt to him.

‘Yes. Newer than...well, newer than anything.’ She flushed as she let out a little embarrassed laugh. ‘If you know what I mean.’

Alessandro hesitated, startled but, he realised, not entirely shocked by her admission. She had to be in her late twenties, and yet... ‘Liane, are you saying you’re...you’re a virgin?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ she replied with an attempt at flippancy that made his lips twitch and his heart ache. ‘So you might be regretting your decision, as I’m probably going to be very clumsy and gauche about it all.’

‘Somehow I doubt that very much.’ No, he realised, he wasn’t regretting anything. Rather he felt hugely gratified. She’d chosen him. The steward came back with a bottle of champagne, popping the cork neatly before pouring two flutes. Alessandro murmured his thanks while Liane waited, watching him apprehensively.

‘Let us toast each other,’ he said softly, after the steward had gone. He handed her a glass and then clinked his with hers. ‘To us,’ he said, and a smile flitted across her face, curved her lips.

‘To us,’ she agreed, ‘and to now.’

Was that a warning to herself—or to him? Or was she just letting him know that she understood the rules? The trouble being, he realised, that he was somehow managing to forget them all. He took a sip of champagne and then put his glass on the coffee table, realising he could not go a moment more without touching her.

‘Come here,’ he said, his voice a low thrum, and then, as she fumbled to put her glass down, he reached for her hand and drew her slowly, willingly, from her seat, her lips parting in expectation, her eyes going dark with desire.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said softly as she stood in front of him, her body slender and supple and his, even before he’d touched her.

‘You’re the beautiful one.’ Gently, but with daring, she rested her hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes, savouring the simple touch. ‘I feel as if I’m dreaming,’ she whispered.

He put his hands on her slender waist and then drew her down to his lap. A little clumsily, with a breathless laugh, she put her arms around him.

‘I don’t even...’

‘You do.’ He cupped her face in his hands as he drew her towards him for a long, lingering kiss. She tasted like champagne, but infinitely sweeter. Already he knew he could never get enough. ‘Oh, you do.’

She let out another breathless laugh of wonder as his lips moved to her throat. ‘Do you know what you do to me?’ he murmured as he kissed the hollow of her throat, one hand cupping the slight fullness of her breast. She was perfect. Perfect in every way.

‘No.’ Her body arched against his hand. ‘What do I do to you?’

‘You drive me mad. Make me ache.’ He settled her more firmly on his lap and her eyes widened. ‘You never have to doubt yourself about that.’ He wanted her to know how beautiful she was, how desirable. She never need doubt herself, her allure, again. He could give her that much at least. ‘You’ve been driving me crazy since I first stepped on your foot.’

Her surprised laugh morphed into a gasp as he undid a button of her blouse, revealing the lacy silk of her bra. His lips moved over the ridges and seams and she arched against his mouth. ‘Oh...but...you were annoyed with me then.’ She drove one hand through his hair to anchor herself as he continued his explorations, tasting her sweet skin, enjoying her little gasps of pleasure.

‘Annoyed at how affected I was.’

‘Even then...’ Her breath came out in a sigh as he nudged the lace aside, tasted the silky sweetness of her skin.

‘Even then.’

Her eyes were dazed, her face flushed as he undid another button, his fingers dancing across her heated skin, daring to go lower. ‘Alessandro...’

They’d barely begun and yet already he was aching for her in every way possible. He’d wanted to give her a delectable taste of what was to come, but this sweet, slow torture would be the undoing of him. He settled her more firmly on his lap, pressing into her, feeling her yield.

‘Oh...’ Her eyes widened as she braced her hands on his shoulders and tentatively pressed back against him, gasping softly as pleasure flared hotly through him at the feel of her so intimately against him. Her breasts were pressed to his chest, her thighs splayed across his. He knew he was precariously close to losing control, and he could not have that happen here. He wanted to give her much more than a quick, desperate fumble.

Slowly, regretfully, he eased back. ‘That,’ he told her huskily, ‘was a promise of things to come.’

She let out a breathy laugh as she rested her forehead on his shoulder. ‘I feel as if I’m singing inside,’ she whispered shakily.

He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. Tonight, he thought, would be an opera, an endless aria of pleasure as he made her body sing...and sing...and sing.

A discreet knock sounded on the door of the cabin.

‘Signor Rossi?’ the steward called. ‘We are approaching Perugia.’