Reckless Nights in Rome (13 page)

“Sorry, sorry,
I didn’t mean to catch you unawares.”

“What sort of
question is that?” His voice croaked.

“Rosie reckons
you must be a fully paid up member of the club.”

She grinned at
him with big wide eyes and Nico wondered just what the hell it was
these women talked about.

“What club?” As
soon as he asked, he wished he hadn’t.

She simply
shrugged, batted her eyes.

“The big “O”
club.”

“Never heard of
it.”

Terribly
aroused and distracted by those fluttering eyelashes, he knew he
sounded outraged. He was fast coming to the conclusion that Rosie
Gordon was a bad influence on her friend. She appeared to be at the
bottom, so to speak, of a lot of things.

“What’s so
funny?” He growled aware she was teasing him.

He wondered if
she was prepared to face the inevitable consequences.

Still grinning
Bronte took the dishes to the sink and turned on the tap.

“Your
face.”

He moved fast.

Bronte felt the
heat of his breath on her neck. Swishing liquid soap into warm
water, she took her time cleaning the mugs.

When his arms
slid loosely around her waist, she turned and looked up into those
eyes, dark and filled with desire for her.

“What is the
matter with my face?” That voice, deep and husky made her
shiver.

It was a
perfectly serious face now she realised and her stomach curled with
a pleasant little kick of lust.

“You have a
nice face.” She patted his chin giving him a beard of bubbles.

His eyes stayed
on hers as he drew back to study her.

“Do not start
something you are not prepared to finish, Bronte,” he said arousal
deepening his voice. He pressed his erection into her soft stomach.
“I need to take you to bed.”

Those dark grey
eyes went too intense now, never leaving her suddenly hot face.

His mouth was
so close, his breath mingled with hers as he slid his hands under
her sweater to stroke gentle fingers over her too sensitive
flesh.

Her body jerked
and he smiled.

Magic
fingertips glided over her skin, sending erotic shivers up her
spine and a hot spear of arousal into her belly. His jaw clenched
as she trembled and still he didn’t kiss her. He wouldn’t, she
realised with sudden insight. This was her decision and hers
alone.

Her hand
reached up and her fingertips traced that stubborn jaw, over his
cheek and up into his black, silky hair.

“Kiss me,” she
said and pulled that fabulous mouth to hers.

And there it
was again, that punch of power.

Heat roared
through her blood, almost making her frantic as he danced his
tongue across her lips. His mouth cruised over hers.

He was being
careful with her she realised and nipped his bottom lip to
encourage him.

Her breath panted into
his mouth.

Nico was
determined that this time she set the pace. But when she sucked his
bottom lip into her mouth and her hands went on an erotic voyage of
discovery under his sweater he was lost.

“Where’s the
bedroom?” he panted, running hot frantic kisses down that soft neck
as he tugged off her top.

“Upstairs,” she
gasped, struggling to get his sweater off as he toed off his
shoes.

“We’ll never
make it,” he moaned as she slid off his belt, shaking fingers
unbuttoning his jeans.

He slid her
fitness pants down and she kicked them off.

Nico lifted her
and she wrapped long legs around his waist.

“Sitting room,
hurry, hurry,” she implored him between open mouth kisses as her
entire body burned.

His soft laugh
brought her eyes to his as he carried her through the house.

Setting her on
her feet next to a large couch Nico cradled her face between large
hands, rubbing his thumbs along her cheekbones, her lips. Those
eyes were so dark with arousal and desire.

“I’ll take care
of you, I won’t hurt you,” he promised.

And she read
genuine sincerity in those wonderful eyes.

“For God’s
sake, Nico, make love with me.”

She groaned as
he laid her down.

Nice and slow,
Nico, he ordered himself, take it nice and slow.

His hand slid
over the smooth skin of her hip, along her thigh and she trembled
under him.

Softly, softly
his mouth brushed hers, tasting her, nibbling a slow path along her
bottom lip. Bronte sighed and opened her mouth, her tongue tangling
in a silky, sensuous dance with his. A smile shaped his mouth as
his lips explored the soft skin under her ear and her body
shivered, convulsed under his.

Her responses
made the blood thunder through his veins. Soft panting breaths made
him crazy for her.

When those
nails ran down his back towards his ass he groaned into her
mouth.

Her fingertips stroked
and explored his back, his wide shoulders.

The man worked
out and Bronte gave a little hum of pleasure in her throat as she
reached down over hard abs and lower still. Her fingers searched
under his jeans, feathering over a lean hip.

His hand
stilled hers.

“Not yet,
cara
.” His harsh voice, low and full of need, detonated a
bomb of lust deep in her belly. And she arched her pelvis towards
him as he removed a condom from the back pocket of his jeans.
Stripping down to his skin, Nico protected them both.

His fingers
skimmed over her ribcage, down over her stomach and she gasped when
he stripped her panties from her. Gentle fingertips stroked feather
light slow circles around her navel and the hot liquid pull low in
her belly was a heady mix of pleasure and pain. The scent of soap,
his signature cologne and aroused male surrounded her. He rose
above her, arms propped either side of her shoulders. A strong knee
gently forced her legs apart. His eyes never left hers as his mouth
twitched.

“You are ready
for me.” Voice low and accent thick with desire, his fingertips
stroked the sensitive skin between her hip and pubic bone. Pleasure
soared into Bronte’s mind and she closed her eyes.

His index
finger hovered over her centre.

“Open you legs.
Wider.”

A shuddering
breath caught in her throat as his finger swept fluidly towards her
buttocks and back up, almost reaching the tender little bud of
tingling energy before sweeping away again. Two fingers set a slow
rhythmic pace. They dipped deep into her core then slicked around
the bud again and again, faster and faster.

She couldn’t
cope with this, she just couldn’t. Eyes wide, her head shook from
side to side. Too fast, her heart beat was too fast, the breath in
her throat caught. His eyes never left hers, not for a moment. Her
mouth made the O shape and her hands, knuckles white, gripped his
shoulders, every muscle in her body went taught, stretched tight
like piano wire. Her back bowed as two fingers dipped hard into
her, his thumb pressed the bud.

Her breath
seized in her lungs.

“Come for me,
Bronte. Let go.”

A primal scream
sounded in her throat. Every bone in her body almost snapped into
tiny pieces as her mind fractured. A trembling, deep and dark built
within her womb as the full body climax exploded.

The world went
black for a split second.

Bronte screamed
as her release gushed into his hand and her lungs took their first
breath.

The trembling
wouldn’t stop.

Panic flooded
her system.

Nico held her
shuddering body close.

He stroked the
valleys and plains of her back, down her buttocks and up again,
over and over.

She couldn’t
stop shaking.

“Hush, it is
okay. Let me finish it.”

“You’re killing
me.” She sobbed into his neck.

His laugh
vibrated through her as she clung to him as he settled into the
cradle of her hips.

He pressed the
head of his cock into her, too thick and too big.

Bronte tensed.
Her eyes flew to his as Nico held the position.

The
concentrated tension in his expression as those corded neck muscles
strained with effort simply amazed her. For the first time a man
was waiting for her. Exquisitely slowly he entered her, inch by
inch. She sighed into his mouth and let herself go as a voice in
her head told her she would never, ever be the same again.

“Relax,
cara
.”

Nico had never had a
woman so responsive to him.

Her every
tremble, every gasp brought him to his knees.

She was
amazing.

When she tried
to kiss him, he shook his head, desperate to concentrate purely on
her pleasure. He suspected that this was her first experience of
orgasm. The fact that she trusted him enough to let go of her
inhibitions made him feel so protective of her.

He needed to
show her it could be so much better.

Bronte’s
endless legs gripped his back as her pelvis tipped to permit him to
thrust deeper again and again. She felt so good. So tight and hot
and wet. Her centre still pulsed. And he felt her next orgasm
gather as she gave sharp high little panting breaths of pleasure
that drove him out of his mind.

Take it slow
and easy he muttered in Italian. But she pumped her hips faster.
The muscles of her core gripping him ruthlessly as she raced
towards completion.

Bronte screamed
loud and long in his ear and then sank her teeth into his
shoulder.

Hell, he had
never felt anything like it. Her orgasm clenched like a fist around
him, sucking him further into her centre. His sac ached, throbbed
and he lost control. Fear clawed a path from his gut into his
throat. But even it could not cope with the sensational build up.
His skull almost fractured from pressure and he howled, gasping in
release.

Nico lay on top
of her, sucking air into burning lungs and still she milked
him.

He laughed,
happy and terrified at the same time.

Still
connected, pulling her with him, he lay on his side, eyes
closed.

He needed a
minute.

When he opened his
eyes, Bronte’s serious emerald gaze studied him.

Her cheeks were
flushed and she shivered in reaction.

“What just
happened?”

Wisely, Nico
controlled the grin and kept his face absolutely straight. And kept
his voice gentle.

“We made love.
You screamed,
cara
, twice.”

Stunned, Bronte simply
stared at him.

Boy, oh boy, he
had her there. And she had screamed twice. The man obviously kept a
count of a woman’s orgasms. She still had glorious aftershocks
rippling through her system. A firm hand smoothed her skin from
shoulder to hip as he nuzzled the delicate skin of her neck.

“You have a
beautiful home. Shall we move to the bedroom?”

Cold reality
slapped Bronte hard.

How could she
have forgotten what it was like afterwards?

She’d never had
the wow, darling, you were amazing after sex talk. Jonathan’s idea
of pillow talk was to complain she was unresponsive and
unimaginative.

Apparently all
Nico wanted to talk about was the house.

Pushing him off
her, Bronte leapt to her feet, hunting for her panties.

She couldn’t
look at him as she pulled on the scrap of white lace.

“Well thank you
for the orgasm,” she told him, her tone stiffly polite. “It was
lovely.”

From his swift intake
of breath, Bronte knew she’d scored a hit.

“Why are you
acting like this?”

She couldn’t
look at him. “Because I refuse to be used yet again by a man.”

Especially by a
man who knew exactly how to press a woman’s buttons, literally and
figuratively.

Nico hissed out
a breath.

“Rewind, you
have lost me.”

The hard tone
of anger in his voice made her wince.

She turned to
him, folding her arms to protect her throbbing nipples.

“No matter how
much sex we have the house is still not for sale.”

His eyes never
left hers as heat soared into his cheeks then drained away leaving
him white with fury.

Her stomach
gave nervy little jerks.

Naked and
totally comfortable with it, Nico stood proud and tall.

He hauled on
his jeans and moved towards her. God, he looked amazing.

Bronte forced
herself to stand still and not step back.

His hands, hard
now, gripped her shoulders.

Hot, angry eyes
drilled into hers.

“You think I
made love to you for the house?”

Why wouldn’t
her voice work?

“You seduced
me. You’re trying to soften me up.”

By the appalled
shock in those dark eyes, by the way his head jerked back, Bronte
knew she’d made a terrible mistake and wished she could take the
words back.

He released
her as if she’d burned him and shook his head.

“You are
unbelievable. If you have regrets, say so. Have the courage to tell
the truth. But do not dare ...” He took a breath, his voice a whip
that lashed her from top to toe. “Do not dare to imply you were not
a very willing participant.”

“I am not
denying anything. But it’s obvious you are sexually experienced,
very experienced from what I hear. You knew exactly what to do to
me.”

“And it is
obvious that you are not experienced. And also very stupid.”

Stung, Bronte
followed him as he stalked through to the kitchen.

Nico picked up
his sweater and yanked it over his head.

He threw hers
and she caught it before it hit her in the face.

All her
insecurities, all the little darts of poison that had been fired
into her psyche for years by a man who’d tried to destroy her self
esteem rose like bile into her throat.