Chapter Eight

SHE INTRIGUED HIM as no woman had ever done. Nico allowed himself a small frown as he slipped out of his leather jacket. No, that wasn’t quite right. He was certain he’d been fascinated with other women before Lily. Hadn’t he?

But it’d been a long time since he’d wanted one so badly he was ready to spill himself like an eager teenager. Even now, looking at her, he had to keep a tight rein on his need. She sat on the ledge, her hair mussed, her lips swollen from his kisses. Her shirt and jacket gapped open, exposing her soft breasts, the high-tipped points of her nipples and petal pink of her areolas. Quite simply, he wanted to devour her.

He was torn between taking her here in this place and waiting until he had a soft bed to lay her down in. But his baser nature didn’t want to wait. And apparently, neither did hers.

“Come here,” he said, tugging her up and against him. He tossed his jacket on the smooth ledge where she’d been sitting, then dropped his mouth to her exposed collarbone, followed the line of one shoulder as he pushed her shirt down her arms. He wondered if she would protest, but she went for his waistband again. He hissed when she closed her fist around him. She’d certainly learned a thing or two in the last couple of years.

The thought of another man making love to her, while his son lay in a crib in another room, repulsed him. Infuriated him. She should have been his. All this time, she should have been his.

He wrapped a hand in her glorious hair and tugged her head back, exposing her neck to his questing mouth. A moment later, he let her go and unfastened her pants. He couldn’t wait another second to see her, to touch her womanly softness.

“Nico—” She gasped as he shoved the material down, dropping to his knees in front of her. She was trapped by her pants and boots, but he was free to do whatever he liked. A state of affairs he intended to take full advantage of. His cock strained against the confining leather, the ache driving him almost to distraction. He wanted to thrust into her, now.

But he would deny himself until he’d given her this.

Her buttocks were round and smooth in his hands as he pressed a kiss to her belly. He intended to go slowly, to drive her as insane as she was making him, but the satiny feel of her, her womanly scent, the heat and lushness—he couldn’t wait.

Nico licked a path down her abdomen, sliding into her femininity, finding the little point of her pleasure. He spread her with his fingers, ran the flat of his tongue over her clitoris, varying the pressure.

Her fingers wound in his hair as she threw her head back, little panting sounds of delight bursting from her. She was eager, wet, her body humming with the tension he wound tighter and tighter. He knew not to let her go over yet, backed away each time he sensed she was close. He wanted to drag it out, wanted to give her so much pleasure she would never desire another lover.

He slipped a finger inside her tight passage—and her knees buckled as she cried out. Her body clutched at him greedily as she shuddered and shuddered.

Dio, she’d reached her peak.

Just like that.

The wonder of it staggered him. He held her up when she would have dropped, stood and lifted her onto the ledge when the tremors subsided. She was so wild and beautiful in her abandon, leaning back on her arms, her breasts thrust into the air. Another moment and he would free himself, would thrust into her and—

Her eyes were closed, tears slipping down her cheeks. He stilled in the act of unsnapping the leathers. He ached to touch her again, to take her over the edge and show her how beautiful it could be between them. But for the first time ever, he stared at a woman and found himself uncertain.

Had he hurt her? But no, she’d gotten pleasure; he knew she had. Maybe he’d gone too fast, driven her relentlessly to the point of surrender and now she regretted it.

Or was it something deeper? Had he pushed her too far when he’d asked her to tell him about herself? Had he forced her to reveal too much of her soul?

Yes, he knew many things about her—but he felt as if he knew nothing. Facts on an investigator’s report weren’t the same as whispered confidences.

And then it hit him. The idea was so ridiculous he almost rejected it out of hand. But, per Dio, he wanted her to love him. His entire body stilled as he absorbed the idea, examined it from all angles. He wanted her to love him. He wanted one person in this world to look at him with the kind of loving adoration his brother had. It was the only feeling of belonging he’d ever had, and he missed it. Perhaps that’s why he’d brought her here today: it was an effort to merge the two very different halves of his life.

Was he that transparent, that desperate?

Nico drew in a breath, closed his eyes. He needed time to think. The rain had stopped, and the sharp smell of the sea filled his nostrils. He would take her home, give her time to recover, give them both time to regroup. He couldn’t push her now, not like this. She deserved better.

“Liliana,” he said, reaching for her shirt and jacket and laying them across her. His penis throbbed in protest at what he was about to do. “Put these on and we will go.”

Her eyes glistened as she sat up. “W-why? You haven’t—”

“Shh.” He dropped beside her, her taste still on his lips, his body screaming for release. “The storm is over, we need to go before we are missed.”

A tear spilled over her cheek and he caught it before she could scrub it away. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“It is best this way, cara.” The hurt shining in her eyes bewildered him. Wasn’t he doing the right thing? He shoved away from her and refastened his pants. Behind him, he could hear her dressing.

A moment later, she was passing him, grabbing her helmet off the motorcycle and waiting for him to push it out to the beach. He picked up his jacket and crossed to the bike.

“Why do you always back away?” she demanded. The other side of passion was anger—and she looked like a pint-sized Amazon, eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, hands on hips.

Always? He’d stopped himself twice, both times against his will. And he was damn sure paying for it the way his body ached. “Now is not the right time,” he told her. “It’s not you.”

She dragged in a laugh that ended brokenly. “‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ I’ve heard that before, Nico. Usually it happens when some high school boy wants to break up with you because he’s heard that the girl down the road is an easy lay.”

Nico kicked the stand from the Ducati and blinked at her. She was angry with him when he was being considerate of her? When he wasn’t falling on her like an animal? Frustration crashed into him. “What the hell is an ‘easy lay’?”

Her chin quivered. “A moment ago, I’d have said me.”

It took him a second to process the English idiom, but then he understood. “Lily—”

“Don’t say anything to me right now, Nico. It won’t help.”

He considered it as he watched her fight with herself, realized she was right. They’d already come too far down this path to turn back. There was too much hurt and anger to make it right at the moment. He wheeled the bike from the cave, Lily on his heels.

They rode back to the house in silence, humiliation a drumbeat in her veins. Nico had proven his mastery over her, had made her desperate for him, and then walked away as if she were as easy to dismiss as an annoying fly. He gave her an orgasm, certainly, but how embarrassing was it to fall apart like that under his expert attention and then have him zip his pants and tell her they had to go, as if he’d done something as mundane as tuned up the motorcycle?

And why, why had she said that to him about high school boyfriends? God, how pitiful and revealing was that? Before she’d gone to New Orleans and met Nico, her longtime boyfriend—the one she thought she might marry someday—had broken up with her because she wouldn’t sleep with him. She’d believed that if she gave away her virginity, she’d somehow become like her mother. So she’d guarded it fiercely—until Jason broke up with her and she’d met Nico a few short months later.

When they arrived back at the house, Lily went immediately to the shower and tried to scrub the feel of his lips and tongue from her body.

It didn’t work. Nothing worked. She only wanted more.

Heaven help her.

She couldn’t figure him out. One minute he was hot and vibrant and on the edge of control; the next he was cool and collected and so in control she wanted to scream. It wasn’t fair, not when she couldn’t seem to find her balance around him no matter how hard she tried. Just when she thought she had it figured out, he did something to shake her up.

And whoa, he’d certainly shaken her up in that cave. She couldn’t erase the image of him kneeling before her, his mouth on her body, waves of sheer bliss thundering through her like the surf outside.

But what happened next wasn’t at all what she’d anticipated. She’d expected him to join her on the ledge, to slide into her and ease the incredible ache she’d still felt.

Except he’d lied—or he enjoyed manipulating her. She wasn’t sure which. But the truth was that he didn’t want her as much as he’d claimed he did. He wanted Antonella, perhaps—or one of his sleek mistresses. He did not want a low-born American girl who was more mutt than pedigree. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left the palazzo again and went to one of his many female admirers for comfort.

Though wouldn’t a womanizer take what was offered to him? Why would he go that far and no further? God, she didn’t know! She didn’t understand him at all.

Much later, when she couldn’t sleep, Lily decided to go to Danny’s room and check on him. Gisela was close by, of course, but Lily just wanted to sit in the dark and listen to her baby breathe. If she were with her baby, she’d find her center of balance again.

She’d wanted to keep Danny in the room with her, as she’d done since he’d been born, but she had to admit it was time he had his own room. Though it was hard to let go even that much, she didn’t want him growing up frightened to be alone in the night.

Lily slipped into her robe and made her way down the hall. She padded into the outer suite on silent feet, then crept into Danny’s room—

And drew up short. An ocher night-light burned against one wall, casting a soft glow on the room—illuminating the man who lay on the chaise with his son on his chest. Against her will, Lily’s heart knotted.

Man and boy slept soundly. Even in sleep, Nico had a protective arm over Danny, anchoring him in place. The sight brought her both joy and pain—joy that they had each other, and pain that her baby now had someone else besides her.

She hesitated on the edge of the threshold, uncertain whether to go or stay—would Nico’s hold on Danny eventually relax? Would her baby fall to the floor? Or did her husband have the situation well in hand?

Lily bit her lip, warring with herself so intently that she didn’t notice Nico’s eyes flutter open. When she looked at his handsome face again, he was staring back at her. Her heart turned over in her chest. He was a beautiful sight, masculine and strong—and yet tender enough to hold a sleeping baby.

Wasn’t that what every woman wanted?

Carefully, he shifted Danny and sat up. She rushed forward to help him, but he shook his head and she crashed to a halt, her fingers twitching with the urge to assist. He managed to rise and lay Danny back into the crib. Her little boy curled into a ball, his arms wrapped around the blue plush dinosaur he’d fallen in love with. His old teddy bear sat in one corner of the bed if he needed it.

Lily joined Nico beside the crib, reassuring herself that Danny was indeed asleep. Then, the two of them left the room. When they’d gone a short distance, Lily asked, “Was he awake when you went in?”

“I heard him crying.” Nico ran a hand through his hair. “It took a long time for him to sleep.”

Lily’s heart was in her throat. “Danny was crying? Why didn’t you call me? Where was Gisela?”

“Gisela is feeling unwell, cara. I told her to go back to bed.”

“You should have called me.”

“Why? What could you have done differently?”

Nothing probably. Lily bit her lip. “I’m his mother,” she said defensively.

“I am aware of this.”

Oh God. When he used humor on her, she wanted to melt into a sticky puddle. She crossed her arms, trying to shore up her defenses. She absolutely would not think of how amazing his mouth felt on the most sensitive part of her.

“Perhaps I should go back, stay with him—”

“No.”

Lily gaped at him. “What do you mean no? You can’t order me around like I’m the hired help. I’m his mother, and if I want to spend the night watching over my son, I will.”

He took a step closer, his large form crowding her in the darkened hall. She refused to step backward, though her pulse kicked up. He smelled like citrus and spice, with the faintest hint of an ocean-scented breeze. To her dismay, she wanted to lick him like a lollipop.

“There is no need, Lily. He’s asleep. It’s simply an excuse to get away from me.”

“That’s not true.” Except it was.

“You still want me and you don’t like it.”

She lifted her chin. “You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I know when a woman is—how do you say—turned on. You, Liliana, are very much so.”

“You’re kidding yourself if you think so,” she said coolly. “You had your chance, Nico. You turned it down.”

He tilted his head, let his gaze slide down her body and back up again. The perusal was slow, thorough, and her blood pressure spiked at the heated look in his eyes. But she’d experienced that look before, hadn’t she? And it hadn’t mattered one damn bit.

She stared back at him with all the iciness she could muster.

His smile was wolfish. “Very good, cara. You will make a fine princess yet.”

“Don’t mock me, Nico.”

“I would not dream of it, Mi Principessa.”

For a moment she thought—or was it hoped…feared?—he was about to kiss her anyway.

His expression changed, seemed troubled for a moment. But then it passed. “I forgot to mention we are returning to Castello del Bianco in the morning. You must be ready by eight.”

Just like that, he’d changed direction again. Fury burned through her. “I’m not doing this,” she vowed fiercely. “I’m not living the rest of my life taking orders and jumping to your tune. Is this how you would have treated Antonella? How you would have treated anyone but me?”

“Keep your voice down before you wake Daniele.”

How dare he insinuate she didn’t care about her baby’s welfare! Lily shoved him as hard as she could. Which didn’t amount to much since he only moved back a single step. The next second he’d wrapped his hands around her wrists. Then he pushed her against the wall, trapping her arms above her head.

His head dipped toward her. Lily turned away, pressed her cheek to the wall. Rejected him the way he’d rejected her earlier.

He nibbled her earlobe. Lily’s eyes closed as a current of need rocketed through her, settled in her core. She bit back the moan that tried to escape, but not before he heard a fraction of it she was sure.

“Dio, you are fiery. And I’ve been too careful with you,” he said. “I erred on the side of caution when I should have done no such thing.” He transferred her wrists to one hand, then used the other to slide beneath her robe and cup her breast. “Perhaps I should take you to bed and keep you beneath me for the rest of the night.”

“You talk a fine game,” she managed, her heart drumming as her nipple rose to his touch, “but we both know you won’t do it. You don’t seem to have any staying power.”

She’d thought he would be angry at her insult, but a laugh rumbled in his chest. “Now that,” he said, “is where you are wrong.”

“Then why do you keep stopping before you begin? Maybe you have a premature issue or something and you don’t want me to know you can’t keep it up long enough to—”

His bark of laughter startled her. The next instant, she was in his arms and he was striding down the hall. He kicked his way into the nearest room. She realized it was his as he set her down and ripped his dark T-shirt over his head.

As he advanced on her, naked chest gleaming in the soft lamplight, she scrambled backward, torn between resisting and helping. A dark line of hair arrowed down toward faded jeans, which rested just below his hip bones and showcased the hard muscles of his abdomen. He was a spoiled prince, and yet he looked like a demigod, all bronze and delicious with a sculpted body, tousled hair and bedroom eyes.

Sexy.

That was the word that popped into her head as he reached for her. So incredibly sexy.

“You’re not going to force me,” she declared. “You wouldn’t do such a thing—”

“I might,” he said, unknotting the belt of her robe, “but I doubt it’s necessary.”

“No matter what you think, you aren’t irresistible, Nico.”

The robe fell from her shoulders; he grabbed the hem of her favorite sleep shirt after taking a second to grin at the cartoon cat on the front. His expression grew serious. Hot. “I might have believed you had I not tasted your desire earlier. Are you wet for me now, too, Lily?”

Before she could formulate an answer, the shirt disappeared and he was pushing her backward onto the buttery-soft leather couch in the sitting area. He followed her down, his naked chest against her skin, the rigid bulge in his jeans riding against her silk panties.

And she realized she hadn’t yet tried to resist. Lily closed her eyes, swallowed hard against her doubts and insecurities. “Stop, I don’t want this.”

She didn’t sound very convincing.

“You are a poor liar, Liliana.” His head dropped, and then his teeth were scraping her jaw, his big hands spanning her hips, lifting her against his erection.

Lily bit back a moan. What was wrong with her? How could she let him do this to her? She’d trusted him earlier, trusted that he wanted her the way she wanted him, and he’d made a fool of her.

He would do so again if she let him. He took pleasure in tormenting her like this.

“No,” she gasped as his mouth closed around one aroused nipple. His fingers slipped beneath her panties, found the sensitive heart of her desire.

“You are hot for me, Lily.”

She gasped as he stroked her. “Nico, no.”

He stilled, lifted his head, his eyes searching hers. “Tell me to stop, right now, and I will do so. But if you don’t say the word, Lily—” he softly squeezed her clitoris, eliciting the most delicious sensation “—if you don’t tell me to leave this instant, there will be no turning back, capisci? You will be mine.”

Her lungs stopped working as she gazed up into his handsome face. He was heart-stoppingly beautiful, and he was about to make love to her. Or was he?

“I want you to stop,” she blurted. Because if she didn’t say it, if she didn’t make him cease this sweet torture, he would humiliate her once more.

Nico looked at her in disbelief. And then he swore violently. But his hand slid up, out of her panties—

Until she caught his wrist. She wasn’t even aware she’d done so until he looked at where she’d grabbed him.

“What’s it going to be, Principessa?”

Oh God, he’d given her the choice. He’d lobbed the ball into her court and she was messing it up badly. Her heart pounded, her vision tunneling in on the man above her. She could see nothing but him, nothing but his piercing eyes and sculpted features. But she couldn’t let him go.

“Tell me you want me,” he commanded.

“I—I can’t.”

He reversed the progress of his hand, slipped between her folds again. Her eyes closed as he found her.

“So wet, Lily. So ready for me. Why would you want to deny us this?”

“You denied us first—”

“I thought you needed more time, that I’d pushed you too fast. Clearly, I was wrong.”

One finger entered her, then another. Slowly at first, then faster, he mimicked the motion of what he would do with his body.

“Nico—”

He made a sound low in his throat. “Do you like this?”

“Yesss.”

“Do you want more?”

“I—yes.”

“Good, because I am through waiting, tesoro mio.”

She moaned in protest when he lifted away from her, but he unsnapped his jeans, shoving them down just enough to free himself. Lily could only stare as his penis sprang free.

He was more than ready for her. And, oh my God, she was a lucky, lucky woman.

Nico lowered himself onto her again, hooking his fingers into her wispy panties and shoving them aside. She’d forgotten all about them while she’d devoured his body with her eyes.

Suddenly, she knew this was it. He was done with preliminaries, done with the give-and-take dance that had gotten them to this point. There was no turning back now. Fear gripped her—and anticipation.

He lifted her hips with one broad hand beneath her bottom and drove into her.

Lily cried out from the shock of it. This was what she’d wanted from him earlier, this incredible pressure and tension, the sweet aching beauty of male possession. But not just any male—this male, this gorgeous, amazing man.

“Lily, sei dolce come il miele,” he groaned.

She had no idea what he’d said, but it sounded beautiful.

“You feel so good.” His eyes were closed, his head tilted back. “I want to stay like this…”

Lily wrapped her legs around him, lifted herself until she could catch him around the neck and pull him down to her. She had to taste him. “Kiss me,” she begged. “Please kiss me, Nico.”

His mouth fused to hers, hot and wet, his tongue plunging into the moist recesses of her mouth to tangle with her own. He moved his hips, sliding away from her while she tried to hold him tight.

And then he plunged forward again and her scalp tingled. Everything tingled. Every last nerve ending, every last cell. Her entire body was alive with the sensations of what he did to her.

What they did to each other. Because Lily was not passive, not this time. She might not have had sex again until this moment, but she’d had a baby and she was no longer naive. Her pleasure was as much her responsibility as it was his.

She ran her hands down his sides, cupped his buttocks as she lifted her hips to him. Her body was ready for him, and yet she knew she would be somewhat tender when it was over. And she didn’t care. She pushed up into each long stroke, meeting him at the top, the pressure more exquisite each time.

“Lily,” he groaned. “What you do to me, ah Dio…”

“Don’t stop, Nico. Please don’t…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t…can’t last…it’s been so long…”

He growled something in Italian, something hot and dark—and then he let go of his control. Soon they were both beyond restraint, slamming into each other urgently.

As the tempo increased, he buried his face against her neck, his breathing as ragged as her own. She could feel it coming, hovering on the edge of her senses, the culmination of an orgasm that was so much more complete than the one she’d had earlier. That had been blissful, shocking—but this, oh, this.

Her breath caught as the first tendrils of it uncoiled inside her. Nico seemed to sense it and angled her pelvis higher so the pressure changed as he stroked into her.

And Lily exploded into a million bright lights. A moment later, Nico followed, his hips grinding into her as he came, a broken groan spilling from his lips. A groan that sounded like her name.

But she couldn’t be sure because she was still trying to gather the pieces of herself back together.

Long minutes later, he pushed away from her. She mourned the loss of him, but welcomed the cool air where it flowed over her sweat-dampened body. She lay with her eyes closed, one hand flung over her face, trying to process everything that had just happened.

In two years, she’d not felt even the slightest stirring of desire for any man. Nico was the one who’d filled her dreams, who’d starred in her fantasies, the one who’d fathered her precious child. But Danny was the product, not the reason, of what she’d felt for him that night two years ago.

Was it love? Fear wrapped around her like ice. She could not be in love with him. It was far too soon, and she didn’t know him well enough. But her heart didn’t seem to care.

“Dio, Lily, you feel amazing.” He lowered himself and ran his tongue across her belly, spread his fingers over her abdomen. “These marks—are they from the pregnancy?”

She tilted her head up. He traced a fine, silvery stretch mark. It was so fine she was surprised he’d noticed. But then, it wasn’t as if she’d been naked for anyone since having Danny. How would she know what a man might notice?

“Yes.”

He bent to trace it with his tongue. “I’m sorry I did not get to see you carrying my child.”

The comment made tears press against the back of her eyes. Until his fingers fanned over her possessively, stroking her sensitized skin. His dark head moved up her torso, and then his mouth fastened on a distended nipple. Lily clutched him to her, the sweet tension in her body nearly unbearable.

She hadn’t recovered from the last orgasm and already she wanted him again. He made her feel special, cherished. Hot and achy.

He suckled her other nipple, advanced and covered her mouth, his tongue dipping inside to tease and torment.

“We should move to the bed,” he murmured between long, deep kisses. By the time they made it, she’d lost her panties and he’d lost his jeans—and then he was inside her again…

And Lily knew she was the one who was lost.