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Nicoletta looked down at his sleeping face. Even with the privacy screens, she could see him well enough to appreciate the definition, the sheer power and raw masculinity in his bone structure. He was a beautiful man. Each time she looked at him, he moved her. Deep inside she always felt that shift, that wave of love that was so overwhelming it left her frozen, unable to move or speak at times. He didn’t know how extraordinary he was.

Taviano Ferraro gave her everything. He might have gotten angry with her at times when she hurt herself, back when she was so out of control, but he was the one sitting on her bed when she woke from her nightmares. He was the one holding her when she cried. He came back night after night, even when she punched him and told him she didn’t want him around because she was so ashamed. He never turned away from her. Never. His love for her seemed unconditional. She knew her love for him was.

She rested her chin on the top of her knees and kept her eyes on his face. That beautiful face she loved so much. She wanted to be normal for him, yet he’d never asked her to be normal. He’d never indicated in any way that it was important to him. He hadn’t tried to hurry her or push her into having sex with him. No matter how many erections he got around her, he never asked her to take care of him. She had been the one to initiate the only time she’d done it, and even then, he had resisted at first, telling her she didn’t have to.

A part of her had insisted at first because she did fear he would want to have sex, and she knew she wasn’t ready. That hadn’t been fair to him. She didn’t want to be like that. He was so completely casual about communicating with her on all subjects, sex included. She needed to give him that same courtesy. She loved him so much. She didn’t want to disappoint him—or, if she was honest, lose him. She was so afraid she would have a panic attack the moment they really had sex.

She pressed her lips together to keep from making a sound. She wanted him. Her body wanted his. So badly. So much. She couldn’t sleep with wanting him. Waking next to him, inhaling that sandalwood scent that was uniquely his, sent her body into a slow burn that kept building until she felt like there were flames licking over her skin. In her veins ran thick lava, hot as hell, spreading through her entire body to pool low, a sinful heat. The temperature kept rising until little beads of sweat dotted her forehead and ran down the valley between her breasts. That was how much she wanted him.

He was right there. All she had to do was reach for him. It would be that simple. She was slick with need. Her breasts ached. Her clit pulsed with the blood pounding through it. She pressed her thighs together to try to calm the desperate craving for him. It would never go away. Every time she looked at him it was there. It had been almost since the moment she’d laid eyes on him, even back when her body had repressed every sexual reaction. For Taviano, there was still a reaction, a response, it was just buried deep, barely known, but it was there.

With the passing years, as she had been in closer proximity to him and she had grown to understand she was safe, her body had been free to respond. With that, the heat had matured, become a fire, then a firestorm, and now was just a conflagration burning out of control. She didn’t have the first clue what to do about it.

“Nicoletta?” Taviano opened his eyes.

It was the last thing she wanted. He was instantly alert, frowning. Sitting up, concern on his face.

“Tesoro, tell me.” His thumbs brushed at tears she hadn’t known were even on her face.

She couldn’t lie to him. She never wanted lies between them. She shook her head. “Go back to sleep, I’m just trying to think things through.”

He looked her over, taking in too much. He framed her face with his hands. Her heart turned over. “Taviano.” He always saw her. He always would. There was no hiding from him.

He leaned over her raised knees and brushed kisses over her eyes. So gentle. The touch of his cool, firm lips sent little shock waves rippling through every cell in her body. His tongue caught at her tears, taking them from her face. He kissed his way down one side of her face, following the path of her tears, and then the other, right to the corners of her mouth.


Tags: Christine Feehan Shadow Riders Fantasy