He hardened into stone. Her hands on his thighs, yes, but the shy desire, her hesitation, got him every time.
“Can you what, cara mia?” If she had asked the world of him, he would have agreed.
Her face burrowed into his chest, her fingers drawing mesmerizing lines on the back of his neck. “I… I want to return the favor.”
He swallowed the jolt of lust that shot through him. “What favor?”
“I want to do to you what you did to me just now,” she had finally whispered at his ear. “I want to make you lose control too.”
How he hadn’t combusted right there, Raphael had no idea. Wedged against the taut curve of her buttock, his erection had twitched in his trousers at her innocent suggestion.
“Are you agreeing to marry me then?” he’d taunted instead.
He had no idea what she’d been about to say because his infernal cell phone had rung, disrupting the pregnant moment.
Somehow, what had begun as a convenient arrangement had morphed. It wasn’t just the prize of finally owning Vito Automobiles that lured him anymore. It wasn’t the convenience of returning all the favors Gio had bestowed on him by marrying Pia. It wasn’t taking on the responsibility to protect her and Gio’s wealth.
It was Pia herself.
He knew as surely as the beat of his heart, while he waited at the center in front of Teatro Alla Scala for her to arrive for her special opera night, that he wanted Pia in his life.
He wanted the woman who looked at him as if he were the world to her. And in return, he would give Pia everything she could ever want, everything that he was capable of giving.
* * *
Pia stepped out of the limo on a side street, an unnecessary indulgence Raphael insisted on, and walked the last few steps to the front of the historical opera house Teatro Alla Scala and gaped with her mouth open. She could have just as well caught the light rail, but of course he wouldn’t listen.
Glad that she had worn her soft silk emerald-green dress that made Milan’s humidity bearable, she looked around herself. Typical of the busy city’s evening, Piazza della Scala was busy and noisy, mostly with tourists. Locals, she’d learned, had already escaped to the beach, especially as it was the weekend.
She had barely breathed in the architectural marvel all around her when the hairs on her nape stood up with that familiar prickle. Turning around, she spotted Raphael instantly among the elegantly dressed men and women in front of the famous opera house.
Tall and wide and impossibly gorgeous, he stood out. His shoulders looked broader than ever in the handmade suit, his looks even more breathtaking in the magnificent lights of the square.
Clad in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, hands loosely tucked into his trouser pockets, he was leaning against a pillar and watching her with a curious smile playing around his lips. As if knowing that she wanted to linger, he crooked a finger at her.
That playful arrogance, that wicked promise in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. He looked good enough to be devoured. And he looked at her as if he was ready to devour her.
It had been a whole long, utterly miserable ten days since she had last seen him, ten days since he had sent her into spasms of unbearable pleasure with his mouth at her most private place. Just thinking of that scandalous moment, the pleasure that had filled her sent blood rushing to her ears.
And he knew. Even across the ten feet or so that separated them, she could see the gleam of that hunger in his eyes, sense the attraction arc between them.
Heart beating a thousand beats a minute, aware of more than one woman stumbling to a stop at the breathtaking sight of him, Pia reached him.
He is mine, a part of her cooed in joy.
Holding her at arm’s length, he swept that possessive gaze over her arms and shoulders left bare by the thin straps of the dress. A much-needed breeze wafted by, revealing the thigh-length slit in her dress. She saw him swallow as a partial view of her toned leg flashed and she was fiercely glad for swimming all those hours and keeping herself fit.
And then his arm was around her, his mouth at her ear. “I do not like any other man getting such a good view of your legs, cara mia. They are only for my pleasure, to be wrapped around my hips while I move inside you.” His hand rested possessively on her waist as if to warn off any approaching man. “I think I like you all covered up in your jeans and my shirts.”