He pressed her mouth wide, bruising her lips. He tantalized her with his tongue, convincing her with an argument all his own. He held her hips possessively, stroking her backside as her full, aching breasts were crushed against his chest; and her protests turned to a sigh as she was enfolded and utterly consumed by his kiss.
“Lucy,” he whispered against her skin. “Lucy, ti desidero. Sei bellissima…”
She felt his hands on her waist beneath her blouse. Slowly his touch moved up her skin, causing a heat to spread up and down her body that had nothing to do with the fire.
Gently he picked her up and carried her to the sofa in front of the old stone fireplace. She shivered as he stepped back from her, standing in a beam of moonlight. Outside, a fierce January wind rattled the windowpanes.
In here, they were safe. In here, no one could touch her.
Except him.
With his gaze fixed on hers, he pulled off his shirt. She nearly gasped at the hard planes of his muscular chest, revealed in the moonlight and flickering shadows of the fire. Dark hair dusted from his tiny nipples to his flat, taut belly, disappearing beneath his waistband.
She swallowed, barely able to breathe.
He lowered himself over her on the sofa. As he kissed her, she could already feel herself surrendering.
He unbuttoned her shirt, and she made no resistance. His fingertips traced the lace of her bra. Her breasts felt so taut, her nipples so hard, that she held her breath as he undid the clasp. He reached beneath the fabric and cupped her breasts with his hands. Sparks shot down her body. As he lowered his mouth to one nipple, st
roking the other between his fingers, she almost cried out…
She’d never felt like this before.
She wanted him. All of him.
She wanted him to rip off her clothes and bury himself in her. She wanted to scream and sigh and pound and love…
“No!”
It took all her force of will to push him away with a hard shove to his chest. Their eyes locked. “I can’t do this,” she panted. “However easy it is for you, it will make me…emotionally involved.”
“We already are emotionally involved, cara.”
Her heart stopped. “We are?”
“Of course.” He gave her a smooth Italian smile. “You are my wife. For the next few months, I will fulfill your every wish. And—” his lips spread in a wicked smile “—I’ll satisfy your every desire…”
She swallowed. She wanted him—but she couldn’t have him. She already felt close, too close, to tipping over: from merely caring for him to far more…
“I can’t!” Her frustrated body made emotion spill out of her like tears. “Don’t you understand what this does to me?”
“Let’s play a game,” he said, running his fingers along her naked belly in the moonlight.
“A game?”
“Sì.”
It sounded innocent enough. Anything had to be better than being lured back into the unimaginable, soul-stealing pleasure of his kiss. “What is the game?”
His eyes met hers. “I try to make you explode with pleasure. You try to resist.”
A cloud passed over the moon outside, and for a moment, she could see only the dark silhouette of his face, hear only the furious pounding of her heart.
She whispered, “And if I resist you?”
“I will accept your demand for a marriage in name only.” He stroked up her belly beneath her shirt. Taking her hand, he lightly kissed the palm, then placed it against his naked, muscular chest “But if I make you moan and shiver and gasp in my arms, you are completely mine for the next three months.”
By the look on his face, he did not expect to lose.