Bound to the Tuscan Billionaire

Cass slanted a rueful smile. ‘And, I suppose, in fairness, your guests hadn’t come here tonight to interview staff for their gardens.’

‘I should have thought of that,’ Marco admitted.

‘And so should I.’

‘Then we both got carried away.’

His eyes were deeply unsettling as they stared steadily into hers.

‘Yes, we did,’ she said.

‘Truce?’ he said.

‘Truce,’ she agreed, shaking hands with him.

Oh, how good that felt. She was almost disappointed when he let go and moved away.

‘I’ve got something for you,’ he said, turning back to her with a smile.

‘Something for me?’ She couldn’t have been more surprised. ‘You’ve paid me more than enough.’ But she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t thrilled at the idea of a small gift—something personal from Marco. She’d keep it always, and long after this night was a memory she would find it and look at it, and think, He gave it to me...

‘Oh, my word!’ She couldn’t have been more shocked. ‘What have you done?’

‘Please allow me, just this once, to fulfil someone’s fantasy.’

She stared at the Hockney sketch in amazement. ‘But this must have cost you a fortune.’

‘In spite of what you think of me, I do value things in more than just monetary terms. You said you wanted this for your godmother. Well, now you can give it to her.’

‘I can’t possibly accept,’ she protested.

‘It’s not for you, it’s for her. You must accept,’ Marco said.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Well, I do. She must be a very special woman.’

‘She is.’

Marco was still staring at her with eyes turned thoughtful, while her head was muddied with feelings—too many feelings. A few more tense seconds passed, and then, just when she had found the words to form a polite refusal, she saw something flare in his eyes, and the next moment she was in his arms, and Marco was kissing her.

Her world had telescoped into this. Her world was this. Shocked, she resisted him for barely a moment before her body overruled her mind. This explosion of feeling and super-awareness was the very best way to end an argument, though seeing Marco every day and weaving fantasies around him had no bearing on the wealth of sensation flooding her now. He smelled—tasted—felt so good. She had never experienced anything like it. Being pressed up hard against his muscular frame, and having his arms tighten around her, was impossible to describe...not in words; only her body could respond with a burning desire to have not one fragment of space between them.

Breaking free, she was focused and breathless as she stood on tiptoe, pushing his jacket from his shoulders. She had to feel more of him—all of him. The sound of fabric ripping told her that her exquisite blue dress was a vision no more.

And now Marco’s mouth was on her shoulder, claiming her, kissing her, licking and biting as he drew a cry from her throat by turning to rasp his sharp stubble across her neck. She was crying and laughing at the same time, while her hands worked with real purpose to tug off his clothes. Having managed to open his shirt, she gasped to see the power in his chest, the muscles flexing. He was so hard and tanned, and he was hers to explore.

Passion was running high between them as she ran the palm of one hand over his hot, smooth flesh. He dragged a cry from her throat, taking advantage of this brief distraction to cup her breasts. And he wasn’t done with her yet. Taking hold of what was left of the fabric, he ripped her dress from neck to hem.

She was reduced to the flimsiest of underwear. This consisted of little more than flesh-coloured net that revealed every contour of her body in absolute detail. Looking down, she saw her rose-tinted nipples extended impertinently for his appreciation, and the soft mound between her legs, swollen and moist. If she had drawn this scene in one of her fantasies, she might have imagined feeling uncertain, standing practically naked in front of such a sophisticated lover, but the heat in Marco’s eyes and the touch of his hands gave her confidence.

‘I’m going to pleasure you,’ he growled, angling his chin to stare into her eyes. ‘I’m going to make you beg for more.’

‘Okay.’

Throwing his head back, he laughed at her forthright acceptance of his offer.

Let him laugh. She had no intention of being a docile partner. She had needs too.

Smoothing the palms of her hands across the width of his shoulders, she removed his shirt and let it drop to the floor. Then she turned her attention to the buckle on his belt, and after that his zipper. She held his stare as she pushed his black silk boxers down over his taut, hard, muscular buttocks. Cupping them briefly, she indulged herself for a moment, before studying his erection. Thick and smooth, it was standing almost perpendicular, and her body ached to have him deep inside her. But Marco was the master of delay. Capturing her wrists, he pinned them behind her back, holding her still for him, while his other hand conducted a lazy exploration. Still staring her in the eyes, he protected them both, ripping the foil with his teeth. Anticipation was part of his foreplay, she gathered—and it was working, she would be the first to admit.