A growl rose in his throat; his teeth sank into her flesh and she cried out in passion.
“Hold on to the vanity, bellissima,” he said thickly, his hands clasping her hips. “Sì. Just like that …”
She sobbed his name, came apart the instant he entered her. She heard his cry, felt him shudder and the world shattered again.
Draco’s arms swept around her. She fell back against his hard body, trembling, her legs boneless. He held her as their heartbeats steadied, his face buried in her hair, and then he turned her to him, enfolded her in his embrace, held her close as his big hands stroked up and down her spine.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
Anna nodded. He lifted her face to his, brushed his lips lightly over hers. Then he scooped her off her feet and carried her into the shower.
He washed her. She washed him. It was a game at first; how could it have been anything else after what had just happened?
But their hands moved more and more slowly, found more and more places to soap and gently, carefully wash until Draco groaned, leaned his forehead against Anna’s and said, “I hope the maid has a strong heart.”
Anna looked up at him. “Why?”
“When she finds us in here, waterlogged … Well, you and I will have died happy, but I doubt if she will.”
Anna laughed. Draco grinned, turned off the shower, grabbed a bath sheet and wrapped her in it.
“You think that’s funny, Orsini?” he said, trying his damnedest to sound stern. He didn’t feel stern, not even jokingly so. He felt … he felt happy, and though he’d felt a lot of different things after sex, happy wasn’t a word he’d have used to describe any of them.
“You have to admit,” Anna said, “it’s an, um, an interesting image.”
“What is?” he said, and then he remembered what he’d said about the housekeeper and he laughed and tipped her chin up. “Where’s your compassion?”
“Where’s yours?” she said, teasing him right back. “A compassionate man would have phoned down for coffee by now.”
“You’re right,” he said solemnly as he spun her toward the door, then patted her lightly on the backside. “Get into your robe while I order breakfast.”
Anna looked at him. “Was that an order, Valenti? Because you need to know I don’t follow orders.”
Her tone was still teasing, but there was a quick flash of fire in her eyes. Dio, Draco thought, this was one hell of a woman.
“No?”
“No.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said huskily, and he took her mouth in another long, deep kiss.
Breakfast arrived.
And somewhere between the fresh fruit and the coffee, reality once again began its inevitable claim.
I don’t follow orders, she’d said.
And Draco had answered, We’ll see about that.
Meaningless banter … Or was it?
Those were not the words you wanted to hear from your adversary.
That was who Draco Valenti was. Her adversary. She’d come to Rome to deal with him. Instead, she’d slept with him.
She’d even told him to order breakfast.
It was such a silly mental segue that Anna almost laughed …. But she didn’t. This was her room. She should have phoned down for the meal. Why let a man do what she could and should do for herself?