The Vendetta (15 page)

She smiled back. “Maybe, but everyone needs a change now and then.”

She stepped back toward the bed, and his hands fell to his sides. Grasping the hem of her shirt, she pulled it up and over her head. Her hands fumbled at the top button of her jeans, but it quickly slid free. She hesitated, then shivered as she met his gaze. A flare of desire had turned his eyes smoky dark.

“What was it you said to me earlier?” she asked, her voice husky. “Oh, yes, I think it was, ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’” She slid her jeans down over her hips, kicked them aside and stood there in her lacy bra and panties. The flame in his eyes burned directly into her center and made her heart pound. She stepped toward him and smoothed her hands over his T-shirt, feeling the strong beat of his heart.

“Come on, Nick,” she whispered when he didn’t move to hold her. She stretched up on her tiptoes so her lips almost touched his. “Live a little.”

He murmured something in Italian she didn’t quite catch, but his response was all she could have wished. His arms came around her, and his hands slid down to grip her butt. His hard mouth claimed hers, and his hard body pressed her back toward the big bed.

Elated, she grinned into the kiss. She lay on the bed, and he came down next to her. He buried his face in her hair, kissing his way up her neck. His hot, slow hand came to rest on her ribcage just under the curve of her breast, and his heavy thigh pinned her legs as their feet tangled. His actions recalled their encounter in Telluride. God, was it just over a week ago? She faltered when she remembered his subtle, controlled seduction, feeling awkward now in comparison.

He stilled and raised his head. “What is it, carissima?”

His attentiveness squeezed her heart. She pushed on his shoulder and, when he moved back, she scrambled out from under him. His surprised look turned into one of amusement as she pressed him down and straddled his body. At the feel of him, hard and hot between her legs, she moaned, and her body shimmied with pleasure. His hands gripped her hips as he sucked in a breath. She met his eyes, and their scorching expression erased any lingering self-doubt.

“How’s this for nontraditional?” Her voice came out throaty and low.

His eyes dropped to her breasts. His hands came up to cup them as his thumbs slid across the lace of her bra. She gasped as the sensation shot straight from her taut nipples to her core, drenching it with heat and need.

“Madre di Dio, Lisa. You are going to kill me with this.” His eyes held hers as his hand slid up around her neck to pull her down for a kiss. “But I will die a happy man.”

She dove into the kiss, spinning down into a hot and steamy world where Nick was her only anchor. His tongue stroked hers and the heat of his hand caressed her back, leg, and bottom. The rasp of his jaw and cheek teased her fingers, and every time she took a breath, his scent filled her until it was like he was inside her. She breathed him in.

He undid the catch of her bra and palmed her breast, rolling the nipple lightly between his long fingers. She sat back, awash in sensation, but she needed to see him. His hands followed her, dragging her bra off and casting it aside. As his palms shaped and stroked her nipples, her head dropped back. Trying to catch her breath, she burrowed her hands under his T-shirt, pushing it until he crunched up and pulled it off over his head.

She traced every one of the squared-off muscles in his flat belly, running her hands from his belt to his shoulders, tangling her fingers in the sleek, dark hair on his chest. She flicked her eyes up to his face, absorbing another jolt to her core when she met his hot, hungry gaze.

“Nick,” she whispered. She bent to kiss his warm skin, moving over him to drag her breasts across his chest. He groaned and reached for her, but she sat up and scooted back. He clenched a handful of the bed cover instead. A few oaths in Italian peppered the air. She could feel the iron control he imposed over his body in the bunched tension in his muscles.

She backed up further, suddenly wild to see all of him. She wanted to find out what would make this self-contained, elegant man lose control entirely. She had never done anything like this in her life. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Not now.

She reached for the button on his jeans where his erection pressed against the fabric. His hands came up to help her pull his pants over his hips. Her eyes followed the length of his legs up to his erection. When she took him in her hand, he gasped and his hips bucked. The smooth texture of his skin, silk and steel, made her groan. She looked up at his face.

His eyes were dark, molten, and beckoning. No hesitation now. “Dio, Lisa. You are too much temptation.”

The warm rumble of his accented words poured over her. Desire stabbed and pooled between her legs. Her fingers grasped the heat of him. Stroking, smoothing. “You tempt me too, Nick. God, you’re so beautiful.”

The next thing she knew she was flat on her back again, but this time with her full consent. She tunneled her fingers into his hair as he licked and stroked his tongue over her. Her legs moved restlessly, but she noticed that he kept himself away from the cradle of her hips. She reached for him, wanting to feel him hard and needy, even as her legs dropped open to welcome him. He intercepted her hands, kissing them and placing them over her head on a carved rung of the headboard.

“You cannot touch me anymore, bella,” he said, “or this will be over much too soon.”

She was too far gone to make much sense out of that, but she gripped the headboard tightly. The solid wood held her firmly in a world that was a swirl of scent and sensation. He ran his hands over her breasts and belly in a long, sweeping stroke. Then he slid down the bed, dragging her panties with him.

His hands smoothed up her legs. “
Sei bellissima
, Lisa. I can’t get enough of you.”

She opened her eyes to watch him as he stared down at her body. His fingers trailed over her belly button, across her hipbone and over to the curling hair between her legs. Moving his fingers slowly, he bent low and swept in for a scorchingly intimate kiss. The wooden headboard bit into her fingers as she gasped and squirmed. She felt her body trembling with reaction, with anticipation. A cry escaped her when his long, hot fingers slid into those soft folds, finding her slick and wet. She pressed herself against him.

“Please, Nick, please,” she whispered.

The word that passed through her mind was
hurry
. Hot and desperate, she rocketed toward a place she’d never been. She felt his tongue draw a path over her belly as his fingers worked their magic. She strained against the headboard, arching, seeking.

His voice rumbled in her ear, a steady stream of Italian and English words of praise and prayer. She gasped, desperate, when his fingers slid out of her core. He reached across her and pulled his jeans from the floor, searching in the pockets. When he came up with a foil packet, she allowed a touch of surprise and gratitude. He sheathed himself efficiently and lay down again. A touch of his hands on hers, and she released the headboard to wind her arms around his neck. They rolled to their sides, completely entwined.

His long, gentle strokes up and down her back soothed the edge of her desire, and she calmed. His mouth explored hers tenderly. She felt dizzy and swept away. But when he palmed her breast, the banked fire rekindled.

She pressed against his shoulders, maneuvering until she sat astride him once again. She looked into his eyes. He nodded, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Please, Lisa. I cannot wait any longer.”

Her eyes widened.
He
couldn’t wait. She licked her lips and then reached down to grasp him. She sank down by inches. Their groans blended together as she took him—all the luscious, hard length of him.

She stared down at the beautiful flush of passion that darkened his cheekbones and trailed down his neck to bloom across his upper chest. Incredible heat poured off him and melted her from the inside. But it was his eyes, smoky-dark and mysterious, that fascinated her so she couldn’t move.

He pulled his hands slowly off of her hips and raised his arms to grasp the headboard where she had just been holding it. The action arched his back and pushed him deeper inside her. When she moaned and shifted to accommodate him, he gasped, tightening his hands on the carved wood. The movement emphasized the barely leashed strength of his arms, chest, and shoulders.

“Lisa, amore, take us there. Finish it. It is up to you.” His voice was hoarse, his words barely audible, but their import struck her at once. Control was hers, pleasure was hers,
he
was hers.

She started to move, slowly, but the sight of Nick’s head thrown back as he held off his pleasure made her fall forward onto her hands. Every muscle in his body vibrated with tension, his fingers showing white with the effort of restraint.

“Now, Lisa, now.” His hoarse voice ground out the words.

She reached behind to dig her hands into his thighs. His warm palms gripped her hips, steadying her. She panted, gasping his name. Her body tensed, clutched, and suspended her on the edge of unimaginable pleasure. She let go and plunged, crying out as her climax crested and broke. Boneless and undone, she fell forward. Nick’s arms came around her, holding her tightly as he groaned and rode the wave of his own completion.

She surfaced through layers of drowsy pleasure to hear his voice, coaxing and gentle. “Easy, piccola. That’s it.
Sei dolcissima
.
Se bella, se forte
.”

Tears came to her eyes, but she battled them back and managed to smile. The warmth of his body and his deep voice soothed her, and she relaxed down onto his chest. When their heartbeats had slowed, she raised her head and he kissed her lips gently, his hands in her hair. She pulled back to look at him, and he grinned.

“I think I like your pre-wedding wedding night.”

She smiled. “I guess you found your sense of adventure.”

“Yes, it was right there in my back pocket.”

She laughed but she had no idea what to say next. How much did she really know about him, after all? Well, now she could add “exceptional lover” to her short list of facts about Nick Carnavale. His expression was watchful, wary even.

“Lisa,” he said, “I—”

She cut him off with a finger on his lips. “Let’s save the confessions,” she said. “Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

He nodded. Pulling her closer, he resettled them under the covers.

She put her head down on his chest and, lulled by his steady, strong heartbeat, she fell asleep.

Chapter Ten

Lisa contemplated her reflection in the mirror and worried that she looked too formal in the white lace dress even though the cut was not particularly conservative. The strapless bodice showed a generous bit of cleavage, while the lace-over-silk skirt skimmed down her body, following the line of her hip down to her knees. The hemline’s scalloped edge revealed her long legs and led the eye down to her feet, tipped into extremely high-heeled sandals. She had chosen the outfit during a last minute shopping spree with Rafaela on the Via Veneto, but now she thought the dress, with its little bolero jacket in cream-colored raw silk, looked too traditional.

The word caught her attention and made her smile. She didn’t think Nick, at least, would apply that description to her. Especially not when she showed him the peach-colored underwear she had on beneath it. The thought made her giggle. But her roiling emotions bubbled to the surface, and the giggle turned into a half sob.

She had woken this morning alone in her bed. Nick had left her earlier with sweet kisses and words of praise, but he had left. The uncertainty of their relationship made her squirm. God, what was she going to do? She was falling in love with a man who was marrying her for a priceless art collection. How could life get more convoluted than that?

She heard a knock on the door and quickly snatched a tissue to dry her eyes. It had taken her far too long to apply the sophisticated look she’d achieved with her makeup. She didn’t want to mess it up now. She cleared her throat.

“Who is it?
Chi c’e
?” She wasn’t quite ready to step out and greet everyone yet, especially Nick.

“Lisa. It’s Rafaela Benedetto. May I come in?”

“Rafaela. Yes, of course.” Lisa walked to the door and turned the big skeleton key, more than happy to see the petite lawyer. Rafaela looked fabulous in a dark silk suit that boasted a tiny ruffle around the skirt hem. A scarf in ruby and emerald swirled around her shoulders and complemented her luscious skin and bright eyes.

“Ciao, piccola,” she said, making Lisa laugh, because even in her Fendi stilettos, the top of Rafaela’s head barely reached the level of Lisa’s shoulder. She pulled Lisa forward and down to kiss her on both cheeks.

“You look lovely. Stunning, even. Niccolo won’t be able to take his eyes off you. Not that you needed a bridal gown to make that happen.” She pulled back, and her eyes narrowed when she took in Lisa’s face and the crumpled tissue in her hand. “But you have been crying. And on your wedding day.” She made a clucking sound and guided Lisa over to sit on the chaise lounge by the window.

“Has Niccolo been treating you badly? If he has, I will give him a piece of my mind. I told—”

“No, no,” Lisa protested. “He has been very generous and attentive.” She felt her cheeks warm and looked away from Rafaela’s knowing gaze.

“Ah,” she said. They sat silent for a few moments.

“It’s not even a real wedding.” The words burst out of Lisa’s tight throat.

“But what is this? Of course it’s a real wedding.” Rafaela took Lisa’s hands in hers. “In fact, it
must
be a real wedding. That is why I am here as your lawyer. To make sure that it is. The difficulty comes in when you take into consideration certain…ah…complications.”

“Like the fact that Nick is marrying me for a painting?”

Rafaela’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what he told you?”

Lisa looked down at the crumpled tissue in her hand. “No, but—”