The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
of immense satisfaction, and knew the measure of his control. Unconsciously she arched her body, stretching like a playful young kitten, and revelled at his immediate response.
‘Careful, cara,’ he bade teasingly. ‘Or you may get more than you bargained for.’
She moved against him with slow deliberation, undulating her hips in a gentle erotic movement that drew a warning growl, then his hands closed over her lower waist, and she lost control as he set the pace, taking her higher and higher until she cried out and clung on to his arms in a bid to gain some balance in an erotic ride that had no equal. At least, not in her experience.
Slowly, gradually, his movements began to ease, and then his hands slid to her hips, holding her still as he gently stroked his length, almost withdrawing before plunging with infinite slowness until she felt a wondrous suffusing of heat that swelled, triggering a miasma of sensation spiralling through her body until every nerve-end seemed to radiate with exquisite sweetness.
He shuddered, his large body racked with emotion, and she looked at him with an incredible sense of wonder as he became caught in the throes of passion: man at his most vulnerable, adrift in a swirling vortex of sexual experience.
Then his breathing began to slow, and the madly beating pulse at his throat settled into a steady beat. His features softened and his eyes became luminescent for a few heart-stopping minutes, and just for a milli-second she glimpsed the heart of his soul.
Then his hands slid up to cup her breasts, caressing with such acute sensitivity that she caught her breath, and she made no demur as he gently drew her down to him, cradling her head against a muscled shoulder. His fingers trailed over her hair, while a hand slid with tactile softness down the length of her spine. She felt his lips brush across her forehead, then settle at her temple, soothing, until the shivery warm sensation gradually diminished and she was filled with a dull, pleasurable ache.
‘I hurt you.’ The words held a degree of regretful remorse, and she stirred faintly against him.
Tomorrow there would be an unaccustomed tenderness evident, but she didn’t care, for it had nothing to do with physical pain, merely satiated pleasure in its most exhilarating extreme. She sought to reassure him, and moved her lips against his throat, then gently nipped a vulnerable hollow.
‘You still want to play?’ His voice reverberated against her mouth, and she felt rather than heard his soft husky laughter when she shook her head in silent negation.
‘Then go to sleep, cara bella,’ Stefano bade her gently.
And she did, drifting easily into dreamless oblivion, unaware that he carefully disengaged her and curled her into the curve of his body before reaching for the sheet to cover their nakedness.
CARLY PUT THE final touches to her hair, then stood back and surveyed her reflection. The deep jacaranda-blue gown was classically styled, comprising a figure-hugging skirt and a camisole top with twin shoestring straps that emphasised her slim curves and pale honey-gold skin. Make-up was understated, with emphasis on her eyes, and a clear peach lipstick coloured her generous mouth. Her only jewellery was a slim gold chain at her neck and small gold hoops at her ears. With the length of her hair confined in an elaborate knot atop her head, she looked…passable, she decided. Or at least able to feel sufficiently confident among guests at a dinner to be held in one of Stefano’s business associate’s home in nearby Seaforth.
‘Stunning,’ a deep voice drawled, and she turned slowly to see Stefano standing a few feet distant, looking the epitome of sophistication in an impeccably tailored dark suit, white silk shirt and dark silk tie.
Carly proffered a slight smile and let her eyes slide to a point just beyond his left shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ Turning, she collected a black beaded evening bag, slipped in a lipstick and compact, then drew in a deep breath as she preceded him from the room to the head of the staircase.
Several minutes later she was seated in the Mercedes as it purred down the driveway towards the street.
When they reached the hospital Ann-Marie was sitting up in bed, together with the doll Stefano had given her, a favoured book, and a teddy bear slightly the worse for wear from which she refused to be parted because, she assured her mother, he was as old as she was, and watched over her as she slept.
She looked, Carly decided with maternal love, as bright as a proverbial button, although there were still slight smudges beneath the beautiful dark eyes, and her skin was transparently pale—visible effects of the aftermath of extensive surgery, the specialist had assured.
Soon she would be able to come home. By the start of the new school year in February, she would be able to resume her classes. Except for the short curly hair, no one would ever know she’d undergone extensive neuro-surgery.
Stefano was wonderful with her, gently teasing, warm, ensuring that Ann-Marie’s initial wariness was a thing of the past.
‘You look tired, Mummy. Didn’t you sleep well last night?’
The words brought a faint smile to Carly’s lips. Out of the mouths of babes! ‘I stayed up too late,’ she relayed gently. ‘And woke early.’ Was woken up, she amended silently, and persuaded to share a spa-bath, then put back into bed and brought fresh orange juice, toast and coffee on a tray.
‘You should rest, like me,’ Ann-Marie advised with the ingenuousness of the very young, and Stefano lifted a hand to ruffle her curls.
‘I shall ensure she does.’
It was eight when they left, and Carly turned slightly towards him as he eased the car on to the main road.
‘How many people will be there tonight?’ Her features assumed a faint pensive expression. ‘Perhaps you should fill me in with a few background details of key associates.’
‘Relax, Carly. This is mainly a social occasion.’
‘Yet the men will inevitably gravitate together and discuss business,’ she said a trifle drily, and incurred a long probing look as he paused through an intersection.
‘Nervous?’
‘Should I be?’ she countered with remarkable steadiness, considering the faint fluttering of butterfly wings already apparent in her stomach.
‘I have no doubt you’ll cope admirably.’
She sat in silence during the drive, and glanced out of the window with interest as he turned the Mercedes into a suburban street bordered on each side by tall, wide-branched trees. Seconds later the car turned into a curved driveway lined with late-model cars.
The butterflies in her stomach set up an increasing beat as she slid out from the passenger seat and moved to his side, unprepared within seconds to have him thread his fingers through hers as they walked towards the main entrance. The pressure of his clasp was light, yet she had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t allow her to pull free from him.
They were almost the last to arrive, and after a series of introductions Carly accepted a glass of mineral water and attempted to relax.
It wasn’t a large group, sixteen at most, she decided as she cast a circumspect glance around the elegantly furnished lounge.
Stefano possessed a magnetic attraction that wasn’t contrived, and Carly couldn’t help but be aware of the attention he drew from most of the women present.
Seven years ago she’d lacked essential savoir-faire to cope with the socially élite among Stefano’s fellow associates. Nervous and unsure of herself, she’d chosen to cling to his side and smile, whereas now she was well able to stand on her own feet. It had to make a difference in her ability to cope with his lifestyle.
Canapés and hors-d’oeuvres were proffered at intervals over the next half-hour, and it was almost nine when Charles and Kathy-Lee