Page 5 of Sev’s Blackmailed Bride (The Dante Dynasty #1)
F rancesca remembered little of their passage from the balcony to the front desk of the hotel.
She existed in a dreamlike bubble, every word and action touched with enchantment.
From the moment she put her hand in Sev’s, the insanity that invaded her earlier came crashing back with even greater intensity.
After he collected a key card and made a brief stop at the gift shop for supplies, he led her to a private elevator that whisked them straight to the penthouse suite.
It wasn’t until she stepped inside that a modicum of common sense prevailed.
“Perhaps we could have a drink and get to know each other,” she suggested. “Take this a little slower.”
To her surprise, he didn’t argue. Maybe he felt the same way she did, overwhelmed and off-kilter. Desperate to regain his footing in this strange new land they’d stumbledupon.
“Let me see what they have in stock.” He checked the selection of wines and chuckled, the deep, rich sound tripping along her nerve endings. He hefted one of the bottles. “Well, would you look at this. Here’s something you might enjoy. They actually carry one of my family’s labels from Italy.”
“You’re vintners?” she asked in surprise.
“My extended family is.” He smiled, the relaxed warmth and humor causing her system to react in the most peculiar way. “I have a huge extended family. You probably couldn’t mention a single field of interest where I couldn’t find one of my relatives in that business.”
“Even the jewelry business?” she joked. Since he’d been at Timeless Heirlooms’ showing, he must have some connection to the jewelry industry.
He gave her an odd look. “Especially the jewelry business.”
Before she could ask the next logical question—why he’d been present at the showing—he handed her the wine.
Their fingers brushed and she caught her breath, the sound a sharp, urgent reaction to his touch.
The fragile glass trembled in her grasp and without a word she set it on the closest surface.
Slowly, ever so slowly, her gaze shifted to meet his and time froze.
How was this possible? How could she experience such intense feelings for a man she knew nothing about?
She’d always kept herself guarded, had made a point to develop previous relationships slowly and with great care.
Emotional distance promised safety. This—whatever this was—promised excitement, yet threatened danger.
Spending the night with Sev would change her, mark her in some indelible fashion.
And yet, even knowing all that, an uncontrollable yearning built within, sweeping relentlessly through her, ayearning she had no more power to resist than the tide could fight the forces that drove each wave toward shore.
She gave up the battle. Stepping into his arms, she surrendered to his embrace.
Relief surged through her, catching her by surprise.
It took an instant to identify the cause and realize that it felt wrong to be apart from him, that on some level she needed to touch him and have him touch her.
That without him she felt adrift and incomplete.
Without a word, she helped him remove his suit jacket, the heavy silence broken only by the sigh of silk.
His tie followed. She tackled the buttons of his shirt next.
It felt so peculiar to stand before him and perform such an intimate, domestic chore.
This should be a wife’s pleasure. Or a lover’s.
She was neither. Or did a one-night stand qualify her as his lover ?
His shirt parted, the crisp white of fine cotton juxtaposed against the tawny darkness of his skin.
Her hands hovered for an instant, creating an additional contrast of cream against rich gold, before she flattened her palms against hard, bare flesh.
She splayed her fingers across the rippled warmth and slid them upward, sweeping his shirt from his shoulders.
Desire hummed through her veins and reverberated in her soft murmur of delight.
“Nice,” she whispered.
“I plan to make it nicer.”
A laugh escaped her. “I didn’t notice before, but you have an accent.”
His mouth curved to one side, an answering laugh turning his eyes to a dazzling gold. “Maybe it’s because Italian was our first language, even though my brothers and I were born and raised in San Francisco.”
She wanted to ask more questions, to learn everything possible about him.
But more urgent demands took precedence.
Unable to help herself, she feathered a line of kisses along the firm sweep of his jaw.
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Forking her hands into his crisp, dark hair she drew his head downward and found his mouth withhers.
With a moan of pleasure, she sank inward, tasting the single sip of wine he’d consumed before passion had overruled social niceties. He teased her with a series of gentle kisses, at distinct odds with the ones they had shared earlier.
These tempted. Suggested. Offered a dazzling promise of hot, sultry nights and endless pleasure.
She pressed closer, her silk-covered breasts warm and heavy against the bare expanse of his chest. She reached for the zip to his trousers just as an insistent burr came from the cell phone he’d tucked into his pocket. Startled, she took a hasty stepback.
“Wait.” Sev fished out the phone and set it for voice mail before tossing it toward a nearby coffee table. It missed, clattering to the floor. “There. All taken care of.”
“Don’t you need to get that?” she asked.
“It’s just my brother. It can wait until morning.”
A slight frown creased his brow. Once upon a time he’d have taken Marco’s call regardless of the circumstances. On some level he recognized the urgency of speaking to his brother. But that urgency faded to a dull, nagging sensation, one easily dismissed.
Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.
Not this crazed need. Not taking time away from business for a sexual interlude.
Not the haste and desperation of making this woman his.
From the minute they kissed, nothing else existed for him but a raw, desperate wanting, one he intended to satisfy.
“Forget about the phone.” He cupped her neck and urged her closer, forking his fingers into her hair and tumbling the loosened strands into total disarray. “Forget about everything but right here and right now.”
She relaxed against him and in the muted light her hair gleamed softly while her dark eyes held mysteries he longed to probe.
He found the zip to her dress and lowered it the length of her spine.
She released a sigh as the fabric parted.
Inch by inch, the silk slid from her shoulders, revealing acres of smooth, pale skin.
It skimmed her breasts before drifting downward to cling to her hips.
Asimple nudge sent the gown floating to the carpet, leaving her standing within his embrace wearing nothing but garter and stockings, panties and heels.
And her jewelry. It glittered against a palate of cream.
He cupped her hips, supporting her as he sank downward, brushing a series of slow, openmouthed kisses from the pearled tips of her breasts to her soft belly.
He slipped her heels from her feet and tossed them aside.
Then he turned his attention to her stockings.
It only took a moment to release the light-as-air nylons and roll them down the endless length of her legs, before disposing of her garterbelt .
Damn, but she was sheer perfection, with narrow, coltish ankles, shapely calves and long, toned thighs. He paused where lilac silk acted as her final bastion of defense to press a kiss against the very heart of her. She trembled beneath his touch, sagging within his grasp.
“No more,” she gasped. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” he replied roughly.
And he did. If they didn’t find the bedroom soon, they weren’t going to make it there at all.
He rose and her hands flew to his waistband, ripping at his belt and zipper.
He backed her toward the bedroom as she fought to strip him, all the while snatching greedy, biting kisses.
In the hallway, he kicked off his shoes and stepped free of his trousers. And then he swung her into hisarms.
Sev reached the bed in three short steps and returned her to her feet.
He cupped her face, his hands sweeping past the necklace she still wore.
The feel of cool gemstones against his heated flesh allowed sanity to return for a brief instant, at least long enough for him to recognize his obligation to protect her jewelry from harm.
With a practiced flick of his fingers, he removed necklace, bracelet and earrings and arranged them with due care on the nightstand table.
Satisfied, he returned his attention to Francesca, lowering her to the mattress.
She lay in a tumble of creamy white against the darkness of the duvet.
Opening the box he’d purchased at the gift store, he removed protection and put it within easy reach.
Then he stripped off his boxers and joined Francesca on the bed.
Lights from the city drifted through the unshaded windows opposite them, tinting her with an opalescent glow that battled the shadows attempting to conceal her fromhim.
The peaks of her naked breasts reflected the muted light, while darkness flung a protective arm low across her belly where her final scrap of clothing remained.
She lay quietly beneath his scrutiny, her face turned toward his.
Light and shadow worked its magic there, as well, the moon slicing a band of brightness across the ripe fullness of her bee-stung mouth, leaving her eyes—eyes the deep, rich brown of bittersweet chocolate—hidden fromhim.