The Platinum Collection: Claiming His Innocent. Lynne GrahamЧитать онлайн книгу.
fact she was still a virgin had probably given him commitment-phobia. She was, after all, dealing with a man accustomed to women who fell madly in love with him and his lifestyle and then were reluctant to let go of him and the luxury again. But she had no intention of becoming one of that undistinguished crowd. Jess had fought many a fight against poor odds in her life and had emerged triumphant. There was nothing of the loser in her genes. Hopefully she would walk away from Cesario di Silvestri with a child, but only because that was her choice as well as his, she told herself fiercely.
‘So, how do we spend the first day of this holiday?’ Jess enquired brightly.
Cesario slung her a wicked grin full of sexuality and fantasy, his dark golden eyes dancing with amusement, and hot pink drenched her cheeks.
‘Okay…’ Jess conceded between gritted teeth. ‘But in between times I want to see Tuscany.’
‘Your wish is my command, delizia mia.’
‘Again?‘ Cesario husked as a slim hand wandered across his hair-roughened thigh with an intent he knew all too well only to discover that he was ahead of her and already primed and ready for another bout of lovemaking. Being with a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her, he had discovered as the days of their honeymoon had unfolded, was a very invigorating experience.
This particular day, though, had started off on a purely cultural note with a trip to the beguiling hilltop town of San Gimignano, dominated by its thirteen medieval towers. Cool as a spring flower in a pale blue skirt and white lace top, Jess had admired the Ghirlandaio frescoes in the Renaissance chapel of Santa Fina and she had succumbed to highly infectious giggles when Cesario compared her profile to one on the wall. They had enjoyed a leisurely lunch in a thirteenth-century town house followed by vintage wine served in the piazza. There, slowly but surely, intelligent conversation had faltered as their eyes had met and other rather more basic instincts had taken over.
But it was Jess who had taken Cesario by surprise when she had ultimately leant across the table to whisper feverishly, ‘Get us a room…’
They had barely made it through the door of the airy tower room of a nearby hotel he had hurriedly taken for them before, still almost fully clothed, they were enjoying each other up against the wall with a scorching raw-edged passion that Cesario had never before dared to unleash on a woman. The looks they had shared in the piazza over the wine had acted as the most arousing session of foreplay he had ever experienced. Even now, lying naked and bronzed in a tangle of sheets, he was still reliving the hot, tight, wet seal of her body round his and the gasping sounds of unashamed pleasure that had rung in his ears even as she tried to stifle them for fear of being overheard. He had already had her three times and he knew it would not be the last time that day. As those delicate fingers of hers enclosed his bold erection and she lowered her luscious mouth to caress him, Cesario just lay back and closed his eyes, literally drunk on pleasure. Being married was turning out to be a whole lot more enthralling than he had ever dared to hope.
Jess loved to plunge Cesario into that rich well of sensuality where she held sway. It was a power-play, a runaway triumph for a woman who had been a virgin a mere six weeks earlier and pretty ignorant of what it took to be an equal bed partner. But that aside, touching Cesario, making love with Cesario, just being with Cesario was also the biggest source of pleasure Jess had ever known. Telling herself that it should not be that way hadn’t worked as a defence against feeling things she knew she shouldn’t be feeling with him. Only in the realm of sex and physical expression could she let her barriers down, freely showering him with the physical hunger he ignited and sealing her mouth and her mind shut on the thoughts and the emotions that accompanied the desire.
Sharon Martin had spoken wisely when she’d warned her daughter that it wouldn’t be easy to live with a man without her emotions getting involved. But Jess didn’t blame herself for failing to maintain her defences, she blamed Cesario for transforming himself into the perfect new husband, a fabulous lover and all-round fantastic companion, whom pretty much any woman would have found irresistible.
In the aftermath of yet another session of hot, satisfying sex, Jess lay with her heart racing and her body aching in the circle of Cesario’s arms. He was still holding her, stroking her spine, his mouth gently brushing her temples. He was doing that fake caring thing again and part of her wanted to slap him for it. She had tumbled headlong in love with him but she still had her brain and she didn’t need the pretences, didn’t want them. It was just sex they shared and she could handle that reality—she had never been a coward when it came to the hard realities of life!
‘Sex with you sizzles every time,’ Cesario told her appreciatively. ‘You could make me monogamous.’
Her grey eyes flashed silver and she lifted her head. ‘If I thought for one minute that you would stray while I was still living with you, I would probably kill you!’ she swore shakily, passion betraying her.
Cesario stretched back against the pillows with predatory grace and no small amount of male satisfaction at what he took as a compliment. ‘I do believe you would, moglie mia. You’re not the sort of woman any man would dare to take for granted.’
‘I’m not a proper wife…don’t talk as though I am!’ Jess warned him waspishly. ‘A proper wife wouldn’t drag you off to a bedroom in the middle of the day and shag you half to death…’
Cesario shifted again and grinned wickedly like the cat who’d got the cream while he curved a strong arm round her to hold her close. ‘The wife of my dreams certainly would…’
‘I’m not the wife of your dreams either.’ Her fingers spreading defensively across his hair-roughened pectorals as she lay against him, Jess could hear the flat note in her delivery and prayed that he couldn’t.
Jess was fully convinced that Alice, the beautiful American former fashion model married to Stefano, would have been the true wife of Cesario’s dreams. Alice and Stefano and their two gorgeous little boys lived only a few miles away from Collina Verde and they were regular visitors. While the men had happily talked politics, business and the intricacies of producing award-winning wines, Jess and Alice had got to know each other. Jess genuinely liked Alice and admired her talent as an amateur artist. But she was also always painfully aware of Alice’s extensive list of appealing traits. Alice was gentle and kind, a shining example of a woman who was as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside, and Jess was convinced that no man who had lost a woman of Alice’s worth could have easily recovered from the experience and moved on. She was not surprised that Cesario had once loved Alice or that Alice and Cesario remained very close. Jess had yet to see anything she could object to in their behaviour but in their presence she was always conscious of how well they knew each other and of how new her own relationship with Cesario truly was. It was a struggle not to be jealous of his bond with the other woman.
As Jess shifted her hand down to his flat, hard stomach Cesario closed his fingers over hers and his thumb smoothed gently and consideringly over the scar on her hand, his lean, powerful body tensing in response. ‘Tell me who did this to you,’ he urged tautly. ‘I need to know what happened to you.’
After a moment of silence, Jess slowly released her breath in a rueful sigh. ‘I attracted the attentions of a stalker in my first year at university. An unemployed loner whom, as far as I know, I’d never actually met or even spoken to,’ she explained reluctantly. ‘When the police showed me his photo after the attack it was a challenge to even recognise him—’
‘A stalker?’ Cesario was already frowning. ‘I assumed you’d been the victim of some random robbery.’
‘There was nothing random about it and no theft involved. I began getting cards and little gifts in my accommodation mailbox and I had no idea who they were from. At first I actually thought it was romantic…all that love-from-afar-stuff girls hear about!’ she breathed with sudden bitterness.
His arm tightened its grip. ‘You weren’t to know it was an abnormal interest.’
‘Well, I found out soon enough when my stalker saw me out and about with a male friend he assumed to be a boyfriend. That’s