The Arranged Marriage (12 page)

Alex
found Gina in the kitchen, mixing a dressing through a garden salad. “Marco wants you to kiss him goodnight,” he informed her, grinning over the fun he’d had, reading a bedtime story to the little boy.

Her face lit with an instantly engaging smile. “I take it that Mr. Frumble has crashed everyone’s boat in ‘Busytown Regatta’?”

“With a vengeance.”

She laughed. “Thank you for doing that, Alex. I must say, from what I heard, you put marvellous expression into it.”

He thought how marvellously expressive she was— eyes, mouth, voice, shoulders, hands. Even her hair swayed as she spoke or gestured. Poetry in motion, vibrant, evocative, intensely emotive.

And he found her clothes very, very sexy. A soft blue clingy top moulded the lush fullness of her breasts, its wide scooped neckline giving a tantalising accessibility. The long swinging skirt she wore wasn’t quite transparent but through the blue and pink and green floral pattern he could see the shadows of her legs. It was a tiered skirt, ribbons and frills—very romantic, very feminine. Michelle wouldn’t have been caught dead in it but on Gina it looked beautiful, flimsily frivolous, emphatically female.

She wiped her hands on a towel and gestured to the kitchen bench. “Everything’s ready. You could open the wine while I kiss Marco goodnight.”

“Will do.”

He wanted to catch and kiss her as she swished past him, but contented himself with watching her, the natural sway of well-curved hips and a very provocatively rounded bottom, silver strappy sandals on bare feet. He imagined her wearing only a G-string underneath the skirt—definitely a blood-stirring thought!

A corkscrew lay next to the bottle of red wine he’d brought—a fine Cabernet Sauvignon which went well with most Italian cooking. It was, of course, an assumption that she would cook Italian, but the old heritage was strong, even though both he and Gina were born Australians.

He opened the bottle and took it into the dining room to fill the glasses she’d put out for them. He was struck by how much trouble she’d gone to; pretty tablemats, sparkling cutlery and china, scented candles, an artistic centrepiece of tropical leaves and little sprays of Singapore orchids, which reminded him that Gina worked part-time in a florist shop.
A pity she sang, as well.

The thought slid into his mind and Alex instantly pulled himself up on it. Her glorious voice was an integral part of Gina. She sang from her soul. To even wish to silence that would be a heinous crime against the person she was. He just didn’t want her to be sucked in by guys like Peter Owen, used because of her talent. All the same, a special talent such as hers should be used. It would be wrong of him to get in the way of any chance she might want to take with it. But if she did choose to partner Peter Owen...

“Ready for dinner now?”

Gina swept in, carrying two salad bowls.

He was still holding the bottle of wine. Her sparkling warmth instantly evoked a smile. “Anything else I can help you with?” he asked, setting the bottle down on the table.

“The bread. I popped it into the oven to make it warm and crusty. It’s a pull-apart loaf with cheese and herbs and bacon, but if you’d prefer plain...”

He shook his head. “Sounds great!”

Everything was great; the superb lasagne she’d cooked to her own special recipe with eggplant and mushrooms added to the usual mix, the tasty salads, the wine, but most of all her company. He loved the artless spontaneity of her responses to him, the entrancing lilt of her voice, the innate sensuality that flowed from her. It was a pleasure simply to watch her enjoy the food and wine. Not a word about watching her diet, not even when she served a deliciously rich chocolate mousse with coffee, happily relishing her own serving.

His gaze kept fastening on her mouth. Its softness and mobility fascinated him, its generous width when she smiled, the occasional lick of her tongue. He remembered its uninhibited passion, the incredible pleasure it gave moving over his body, its sensitivity, its instinctive eroticism.

Restraint was wearing very thin, the desire she aroused in him beating constantly at the gate of control he’d imposed upon himself. Surely she realised by now that this was a serious attraction, not just a physical lust he wanted satisfied. Though there was no denying the strength of the sexual element. It had seized his mind to such an extent he wasn’t even aware he’d fallen silent. The anticipation that had sizzled all evening was surging into a burning need, searing away any other thought.

Her amber eyes seemed to have turned into warm liquid gold. Her mouth was slightly parted, but no words came from it, either. Her lips trembled. She scooped in a quick breath. Her eyelashes flickered as she jerked her gaze away from his to stare at the table. “More coffee?” she asked huskily. As though sitting still had become unbearable, she rose from her chair, reaching for his cup.

“No!” The word exploded from his throat. He was on his feet, halting her action, grasping her wrist, drawing her into facing him.

Her gaze lifted to his, questing, wanting the same answers he did. His heart drummed a fierce
yes
as he gathered her into his embrace and she lifted her hands to his shoulders, sliding them around to link behind his neck. He pressed her closer, his whole body exulting in the soft womanly feel of her, craving more.

Any last barrier of reserve was smashed by their first kiss. The fuse of passion was instantly lit and swiftly running, fuelled by taste and touch and the erotic scent of her, the real and intense ardour of her response. He needed the collision of flesh, needed her breasts bare, her legs open to him. His hands pulled the stretchy top from her skirt, scraped up the curve of her back, urgently seeking a bra clip.

She tore her mouth from his. “Not here, Alex,” she panted.

“Gina...” It was groan of protest from every taut nerve-end in his body.

“I feel it, too.” For a moment she laid a palm on his cheek, transmitting her own physical need as her eyes swam with the same yearning. “Come with me.”

It was like a siren call, singing through his blood. Her hands glided down his chest, a lingering promise before she broke away from him, moving towards the door into the hall. Already she was lifting off the clingy top, her long hair being tossed carelessly as she drew it over her head. Her bare back gleamed enticingly, satin skin, broken by the white lines of a bra, being deftly unfastened.

Alex’s feet were moving, following her bewitching lead. His hands tore at his shirt buttons. His fevered mind recalled Marco’s chiding about dropped clothes. Gina was carrying hers, stepping out of her skirt as they headed down the hall. It floated around her thighs, her legs, and only a silky strip of nothing much left on her body, highlighting the soft curves of her naked bottom.

It was more erotic, more exciting than any striptease he’d ever seen. He unfastened his trousers, acutely aware of his erection straining against the frustrating fabric. He almost tripped, getting them off. She was trailing her skirt through the doorway of a dark room, soft lamplight switching on. Good...he wanted to see her, wanted every sense of her to be his.

She’d dropped her clothes on a chair and was facing him when he finally entered the room, her body lustrously silhouetted by the bedside lamp behind her. She looked like some wild pagan goddess, proud and primitive and breathtakingly beautiful. It made Alex stop to stand straight and tall himself, momentarily driven to match her naked dignity, to measure up as worthy of her choice.

It was a strange kind of respect but it felt right, like the squaring up of equals before meeting...and mating. He walked forward slowly, his gaze locked on hers, the desire charging through him gathering an extra vibrancy, a power that went beyond the ordinary. He dropped his clothes on top of hers, covering them as he wanted to cover her.

He rested his hands lightly at her waist, loving the feminine indentation above the flair of her hips. She ran hers up and over the muscles of his arms and shoulders, revelling in his male strength. He edged closer so that her large dark nipples brushed against his chest, closer, bringing her aureoles into contact, closer to savour the soft pressure of her lovely full breasts. He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding against them.

Her eyes seemed to glow with all the mysterious pleasure of being a woman, drawing him into her world, showing how it was to give this pleasure to a man. She swayed her lower body, rolling the hard length of his arousal across her stomach, moving closer herself to press her thighs against his. It was like having his whole body exquisitely electrified. Never had he been so acutely conscious of his own masculinity and the complementary nature of their separate sexualities.

This time he kissed her without all the pent-up need of waiting for days. He kissed her, wanting to explore every nuance of sensation she evoked, each seductive graduation of passion, of tantalising intimacy. Her mouth was like a treasure cave of rich, wondrous rewards every time he entered it. He moved her onto the bed, wanting to kiss every glorious part of her, feast himself on her femininity.

He wallowed in the lush feel and provocative taste of her magnificent breasts, grazed his mouth over her stomach, revelling in the erotic spasms of muscles responding to the trail of warm kisses and the sensual sweep of his tongue. He reached the apex of her thighs, felt the quiver of her legs as he moved in to savour and caress the most hidden parts of her sex. The moist heat of her was intoxicating, her responsive excitement addictive.

“Alex, please...” Fingers tugging at his hair, her body arching, yearning. “I need you now...now...”

Her words were like trumpets ringing in his ears as he surged up and over her, bringing himself to meet and answer her plea, elated by her need, and with the first exultant plunge deep inside her, the soar of his own pleasure was intense. They moved together in a rhythm that focused all his energy on feeling this sweet innermost part of her, the melting waves that clutched at him, squeezing, releasing. He concentrated on taking himself as far as this union would allow, revelling in the sheer ecstasy of pushing her to climax after climax, rolling through them, loving the throaty little cries, the erotic sounds of her pleasure, until finally, finally, he could not contain the driving rush of his own need, the fierce seizure of muscles that demanded release.

He heard himself cry out as he buried himself deeply inside her in the last ultimate act of mating, a climactic burst that spilled from him like tidal waves of explosive sensation, breaking into a warm haven that welcomed him and held him safe until he was entirely spent. Then the glorious contentment of simply lying with her, still intimately joined, embraced by the softness of her legs and arms wound around him, the lovely cushion of her breasts, the scented silkiness of her hair.

What more could a man ask?

She had given him—was still giving him—the most perfect pleasure he’d ever known...incomparable to anything else.

Words alien to his usual thinking slid into his mind— a state of bliss. He smiled over them...no exaggeration at all. Absolute truth. Then for a while, he didn’t think at all. Basking in bliss with Gina Terlizzi was the best possible use of time.

It was she who stirred first, sighing, shifting her head so as to look at him, her face expressing a languorous satisfaction, her smile reminiscent of a thousand sensual delights, her eyes a darkly gleaming amber trapping sparkles of golden joy.

“You are amazing, Alex. Thank you for being so...so generous in your loving.”

Generous?

He smiled, thinking how much he’d indulged his own desires, yet it was Gina herself who had inspired them, the woman she was and how she made him feel.

“No, you are the amazing one,” he murmured, lifting a hand to trace her lips with his fingertips. “You invite the freedom to give instincts full play and you let me follow them without any drawing back.”

“Why would I? You gave me more pleasure than I could dream of.”

“Then I’d say we’re very well matched.”

Her smile tilted ironically. “In bed.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t limit it to bed.” He grinned teasingly. “If that lasagne was a fair sample of your cooking I’d be happy to share a meal with you anytime.”

She grinned back. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I enjoy everything about you.”

Her head tilted as though she didn’t quite believe him. “I’m not very sophisticated.”

“Sophistication...”
if she was thinking of Michelle’s superficial glamour 
“...can be vastly over-rated. I love being with you, Gina. No false images.”

She frowned over that last phrase and he wished he hadn’t said it. A sour note. Yet in the next instant it led his mind straight to even more acid thoughts on Peter Owen and a pertinent remark tumbled out of his mouth.

“I hope you realise Peter Owen is a user, particularly where women are concerned. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt by him.”

Her frown deepened. “Do you mean personally or professionally?”

He grimaced at his urge to interfere, knowing it was seeded by a jealous possessiveness he didn’t even like in himself. “I was just concerned when he called on you so casually last Sunday afternoon.”

“I wasn’t expecting him, Alex.”

“Hey...you don’t have to answer to me,” he asserted. “I know he can be very charming.”