Hot Christmas Nights: Shameful Secret, Shotgun Wedding / His for Revenge / Mistletoe Not Required. Anne OliverЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘On what you are prepared to do to make me agreeable.’
Glad that they had the house to themselves, Cassie slid her hand down over his belly and laid the palm of her hand over his groin. Through the immaculate suit trousers, she could feel his unmistakable arousal pressing against her. And as she stroked him with growing insistence through the fine material she lifted her lips to touch the faint rasp of his jaw.
‘Why don’t you come upstairs and find out?’
‘Or why don’t we find out right here?’ he growled.
She needed no second bidding, revelling in his powerless capitulation as she unzipped and then slithered down his trousers and slid to her knees in front of him. She took him in her lips—savouring the silken steel of his shaft, teasing it with the soft flick of her tongue and then sliding it deep inside her mouth so that he gasped. Holding onto his hips, she kept up the seductive rhythm while he feverishly tangled his fingers in her hair and then she felt the tension build—heard his helpless groan as he could contain himself no longer. And she felt an odd sense of triumph as he began to spill his seed inside her mouth.
Afterwards, there was silence foramoment—punctuated only by the sound of Giancarlo frantically drawing air back into his lungs. Then slowly, he brought her up to standing, his eyes almost opaque with lust as they scanned her face. Touching his finger to her lips, he bent his head to kiss her—tasting his own essential scent on her skin.
‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said softly.
‘Yes, please,’ she whispered.
In the bedroom, he removed her clothes so slowly and erotically that she writhed beneath his fingers, her blood on fire. His own clothes he took off much more efficiently, his eyes not leaving hers as his silk shirt fluttered to the floor like a flag of surrender. And at last the dark boxers were removed, to reveal his tumescent arousal in all its magnificent glory.
‘You look daunted, cara,’ he murmured.
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. ‘Is it…is it normal for a man to be as aroused as often as you are, Giancarlo?’
He gave a low laugh tinged with satisfaction as he began to stroke her—and yet, in truth, her eagerness and her appreciation were a constant aphrodisiac which never failed to arouse him. ‘You will find few men to match me in terms of libido, bella.’
She supposed it was her own fault for asking, but his matter-of-fact reply sent a faint tremor through her body—making her feel as if she were nothing but another notch on his bedpost.
But she was just a notch, wasn’t she? Giancarlo had never promised her anything else—so if she found the thought of saying goodbye to him unpalatable, then she had only herself to blame.
Yet all her doubts and her anxieties were dissolved when his hands moved over her with practised ease. He stroked her quivering skin until she was a mass of sensitive nerve-endings and she moaned his name softly beneath her breath as he brought her slowly down onto his aching shaft.
‘Giancarlo,’ she breathed.
‘Look at me,’ he instructed silkily.
Their eyes locked as he guided her hips into a deep rhythm and his captured gaze when he was deep inside her seemed unbearably intimate. But as the erotic dance led her inexorably towards orgasm she shut her eyes tightly again—afraid that he would see the naked pain which sometimes intruded at the very moment of pleasure. Pain provoked by the thought of a life without him.
It was only later, when they were showered and dressed and eating a delicious dinner cooked by Gina—who had returned from her shopping trip—that Giancarlo raised his glass to her in silent toast.
‘Tell me, bella mia,’ he said softly. ‘Do you have a passport?’
The unexpected question made Cassie put down her wine glass as she looked at him—her heart thudding as she basked in the ebony stare he was slanting at her.
‘Yes. Yes—of course I have a passport.’
‘No “of course” about it,’ he pointed out, with a dry smile. ‘Since you told me you’d never been to Europe.’
‘Ah, but I went on a day trip to Calais when I was at school—does that count?’
Giancarlo bit back an indulgent smile as she pushed away her plate and looked at him with interest. As a mistress she had been perfect. Unwittingly amusing. Sexually curious—and with a native intelligence which sometimes surprised him. He had enjoyed introducing her to theatre and the opera—even if he hadn’t got round to introducing her to his friends. Why bother, when she would never encounter them again? No, early on he’d realised that time spent with Cassandra could be spent in a much more enjoyable way than sitting through interminable dinner parties and fielding off faintly embarrassing questions about how they’d met.
But while shaving that morning he had realised with something of a shock that there was hardly any time left and that Christmas was almost upon them. For once, he had not noticed the passing days nor been bored by the constant company of one woman. Barely a week to go until he travelled to New York to spend the holidays with friends—the way he always did. And when he returned to London it would be to a bed and a life bereft of his young, blonde lover.
Would he miss her?
He studied her as the tip of her little pink tongue snaked its way around her lips to make them gleam provocatively. And he remembered what that same talented little tongue had been doing just a little while ago. For a woman who had known nothing of a man’s body when he had first met her, she had proved to be a remarkably quick and talented learner.
Yes, he would miss her—but he would soon forget her. He always did.
‘Oh, I can think of more enjoyable ways of seeing the Continent than a school day trip,’ he murmured.
‘Really?’
‘How would you like to go to Paris?’ he asked suddenly.
‘Paris?’ she squeaked.
‘Capital of France,’ he said gravely. ‘Have you heard of it?’
Cassie looked into the gleam of his black eyes—at the rugged, proud features which made her heart flip every time he came into the room. ‘Oh, Giancarlo—do you really mean it?’
‘I really do.’
‘When?’
‘How would tomorrow morning suit you?’
‘That soon? Oh, my goodness! Yes, please. Oh—thank you! Thank you!’ She jumped up from her seat and slid her arms tightly around his neck just as Gina walked into the room to collect the plates. Quickly, Cassie let her arms fall—even if she hadn’t felt the sudden tensing of Giancarlo’s shoulders. Because he didn’t do demonstrative—not in the street, not in restaurants or in the theatre, and he certainly didn’t do demonstrative in front of his cool housekeeper.
Getting used to having live-in staff had proved more challenging than learning to share a bed. Gina hadn’t been unfriendly towards Cassie—she had just showed a polite indifference which could be terribly intimidating at times. And while Cassie could see that Giancarlo needed people to run his house for him, she wished that they could have all been dismissed during her brief stay there. She would have liked to have had the freedom to roam the house. To make love in every room. To cook for him herself instead of always having their meals served up to them—either at home or in some fancy restaurant. Because she wasn’t interested in all the trappings which came with Giancarlo’s great wealth—she was interested in him.
‘Cassandra and I are going to Paris for a few days,’ said Giancarlo as a pink-cheeked Cassie returned to her seat.
‘How delightful,’ said Gina, with a cool smile. ‘Paris is always lovely at this time of year.’
Cassie gave a watery kind of smile, thinking that the whole world was more well travelled