Page 44 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

This isn’t right.

Suddenly, she had to say something. She opened her mouth, but he stopped her words by pulling her closer and bringing his lips down on hers. For a second, she sensed the need behind the kiss, then he somehow got control of himself and his touch lost the element of force. He raised his head. “Don’t. Don’t speak. I know there’s something bothering you, but for tonight let’s not think about anything but making love. Tomorrow, whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

He was so sweet, but she was sure he wouldn’t be facing anything with her tomorrow. No, he’d turn his back, and it was no more than she deserved.

She nodded and forced her guilt into submission as he slipped his hand into her hair at the back of her neck, holding her still while he ravaged her with his mouth.

He turned her around and pushed her gently so she came up against the wall, and she balanced herself with her palms against the smooth plaster. She could feel him all down the length of her back, his mouth at her throat, then trailing kisses over her shoulders.

“I love your ass,” he whispered between kisses, as he pressed his erection against her. One hand came around her, and he cupped her breast, then his palm slipped inside the lace to find her nipple. She rested her forehead against the cool wall as his fingers tugged.

Then his other hand slipped beneath the silk of her panties, his long fingers curling into her sex, pushing between the folds. “You are so wet. You want me.”

One finger slid inside her, stoking her inner walls, and she whimpered deep in her throat. Then he withdrew, glided the moisture up to her clit, massaged the little nub of sensitive nerves, swelling the pleasure inside until she squirmed against him.

She pressed back into the hardness of his erection, and he rubbed up against her as his clever fingers circled her, pushing, tugging until the pleasure coalesced into a huge ball in her center that burst, shattering her, spreading the heat through her body. Her legs weakened, and he held her up with a hand around her belly.

She steadied herself with a palm against the wall as he released her, keeping her eyes closed as she heard the rasp of his zipper and the tear of the foil wrapper.

One hand held her hips still while the other caressed her buttocks then slipped between her thighs. He found the edge of her thong and ripped it, tearing the material with ease. She loved that he wanted her so desperately. This is what she needed; any tenderness and she might have broken under the guilt. Then he was there, nudging at the opening to her body. She held her breath as he thrust into her with one hard lunge.

She gasped, and he held still for a moment, and then started moving. There was no gentleness to his taking, just a pull and thrust, but her body responded, pushing back against him, wanting more, needing more. One hand was back on her breast, massaging, the other slid down over her stomach, found her clit still swollen and sensitive from her orgasm, and rubbed her, hard then soft until she was twisting in his arms. His head was buried in the curve between her shoulder and her neck, his mouth at her throat.

He squeezed her between his thumb and finger, and she came again as he spilled himself inside her, pumping hard as though he couldn’t stop. Finally, his movements slowed, and they stood for a minute, his arms still wrapped around her, his mouth nuzzling her throat.

“That was so good. Better than I imagined. Just stay there a second…I’ll be back.”

She stayed where she was until she heard the click of the bathroom door, and then she turned around. She was searching for something to wear when he came out of the bathroom. His chest was bare, olive skin gleaming; his pants were open at the waist, hanging low on his hips. And already she wanted him again.

He’d splashed water across his face and his hair was damp at the edges. Silently, he crossed the room to where she stood. Reaching around her with one hand, he flicked open her bra, peeled it off her and dropped it on top of the dress. “Madre di Christo,but you’re beautiful.”

Then he picked her up and carried her through into the bedroom, lowered her onto the mattress, and reclined beside her. This time their lovemaking was slow and deep and so intense that by the time she came, she was close to tears. Afterward, he kissed her gently. “Go to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll talk. Everything will be fine.”

No, it won’t.

But strangely, she did sleep, with his arms wrapped around her and the now familiar scent of him filling her nostrils.

…

Vito came awake slowly to a sense of anticipation and well-being; his body felt sated but already eager for more. He’d woken in the night, seemingly from an erotic dream, to find her mouth on him, warm and wet, the best feeling in the world. They’d made love again, without words, slow and intense, and deeper than anything he’d ever experienced. Neither of them might be quite ready to put a word to what was between them, but it was far more than sex. Afterward, he’d held her close until her breathing evened out, then he’d rested next to her, feeling the slow beat of her heart and knowing that whatever Gabby’s fears and problems were, they had something good between them, something worth fighting for. Then finally, he’d slept.

Now tomorrow was here, and he had to make sure she understood that whatever trouble she was in, he would stand by her, help her through it. This time there was no putting off the conversation.

Except…she was gone.

He blinked open his eyes. The room was in semi-darkness, pale light filtering through the curtains. It was still early. She wouldn’t have left. Not without saying good-bye. Not after what they had shared together.

A sound came from the room next door, and some of the tension left him. She hadn’t gone. He rolled out of bed and found his pants on the floor, pulled them on, and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. She was so volatile. How would he find her this morning: all soft and loving as she had been through the night, or spiky and defensive?

In fact, she was heading for the door, fully dressed, bag in her hand. She was leaving. Without even saying good-bye. It was before seven; where could she need to be in such a hurry? “Gabby?”

She visibly jumped, then turned slowly around, clutching her bag to her middle. Licking her lips, she glanced away, and then back again, her gaze dropping to his chest and a flush staining her pale cheeks. “Vito. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Of course she didn’t want to wake him. That was more than clear. The question was why. He’d thought they’d reached a new closeness. Clearly she didn’t feel the same. Or maybe she did, and that had scared her into running.

“It’s early,cara, come back to bed. I’ll order coffee, breakfast. We can talk.” He stepped slowly toward her as though she were some skittish animal that might flee at the first opportunity.

“I’m sorry. I really have to go.”

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