Millie felt the heated clamour of her breasts as they became swollen and hard, and opened her mouth eagerly as his tongue flicked in and out, tightening her grip on the broad shoulders, not daring to touch him anywhere else in case he stopped.
But he didn’t stop. He touched her aching breasts, then slid his hand down to mould the contours of her hips, and she could scarcely believe it when it began to ruck up the hem of her dress, his fingertips finding the silken temptation of her inner thigh.
‘Gianferro!’ she gasped indistinctly against his mouth.
‘What is it?’ he drawled.
She was so on fire with need that she paid no heed to logic or good sense. To the fact that he had insulted and accused her—only to the knowledge that she wanted him so badly. ‘Make love to me,’ she said brokenly.
Dimly he was aware that he had about half an hour until his next appointment, and that this was sheer and utter madness—but what other feeling in the world could suck you so willingly down into its dark and erotic vortex and obliterate every other?
He stared down at her, at the pale upturned face and the parted lips, and he sucked in a hot and hungry breath as he forced himself to resist them. ‘Do you want me and only me?’ he demanded.
‘Yes!’ she gasped. ‘You know I do!’
In one corner of the room was a chaise longue which was rarely used, and he pushed her towards it. She went willingly, unprotesting, not daring to speak in case that broke the spell, brought him to his senses.
For she had never seen Gianferro like this before—so fervent and intent, almost…not out of control, no—for that would be alien to his nature—but like a man who had for once given in to what he truly wanted rather than what was expected of him.
His face dark, his eyes almost unseeing, he pushed her down and slid her panties right off, brazenly touching the moist heat which seared him, a grim, hard smile curving his lips as she writhed in response. And then he unzipped himself and Millie watched him—the hunger of her body momentarily suspended by the unbelievable sight of Gianferro moving towards her—in broad daylight—to make love to her.
It all happened very quickly—but she guessed there was time for nothing else. There was no formality, no tenderness and no foreplay—but she didn’t need it, and neither did he. God, she had never felt so on fire with need! A small cry of anguished pleasure formed on her lips, but he kissed it away with a hard and efficient kiss which muffled it as he thrust deep inside her.
Maybe it was the sheer incongruity of what they were doing in Gianferro’s study in the middle of the day which heightened her senses to an almost unbearable pitch, but her appetite was so sharpened that her orgasm happ
ened almost immediately, and she felt him give one hard, final thrust before he too followed, his dark head falling onto her shoulder.
They stayed like that for a moment—she could feel his breath, warm and rapid against her neck—and then he raised his head, his dark eyes glittering with a look she dared not analyse for fear of what she might read there.
‘Does that make you feel better, Millie?’ he questioned slowly, as he carefully eased himself out of her.
Her euphoria evaporated. He made it sound as if she had just been given a dose of medicine! But she wouldn’t let her hurt show…indeed, wasn’t she being a little precious to feel hurt? Gianferro had just done something extremely out of character—something they had both needed—and he had done it without a thought to propriety. She must be making some kind of progress, and she should seize on that and cherish it.
She wound her arms around his neck. ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered. ‘That was wonderful.’
Gianferro’s eyes narrowed as he untangled her arms. ‘You’d better straighten yourself up.’
Millie’s cheeks grew pink as she reached down to find her crumpled panties, aware that she was all sticky and that it was miles back to her own office. ‘Can you pass me some tissues?’
Gianferro stared, her matter-of-fact question making him feel slightly dazed. ‘Can I what?’ he echoed in disbelief.
‘Well, I can hardly ring for a lady-in-waiting to help me.’ She looked at him, biting her lip. He wasn’t exactly making it easy for her. ‘Can I?’
Without a word, he turned and did as she asked, grateful for the fact that his back was towards her and she would not see the look of disbelief in his eyes. It wasn’t the thought that someone might have walked in which so nagged at his conscience—no one would have dared—but more the fact that what had just taken place had been so…so…
So utterly inappropriate.
Was that why she had broken out of the mould she must know was expected of her? Had she deliberately flirted with the young Italian to get just this reaction—to make him jealous enough to behave in a manner more befitting a sex-starved teenager than a king? And it had worked, damn her! It had worked!
He adjusted his clothing and walked back to where she lay, her legs still splayed, her colour all rosy. ‘Here,’ he said tightly, thrusting the tissues at her. ‘You’d better hurry.’
She saw the brief but unmistakable glance at his watch and her cheeks flushed scarlet. It wasn’t until she felt halfway decent again that she dared to broach what had just happened—for surely they couldn’t just ignore the fact that they had just had sex in the middle of the day and in the middle of Gianferro’s busy diary? And what of the jealousy which had started it—shouldn’t that be addressed, too?
‘It’s pretty obvious from the look on your face that you wish we hadn’t done that,’ she said quietly.
Gianferro heard the unspoken plea for reassurance, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t want to discuss it, but to forget it and wipe it from his mind. And not just because he had let his guard down in such an inappropriate way—for how else was he to concentrate on the matters of State which lay stacked up and waiting for his attention?
‘It happened, Millie. Nothing we can do about it now,’ he said flatly, and with an effort he flashed her a smile. ‘Don’t you have a reception to attend?’