Page 40 of Leo

He let out a breath as if he had expected her to argue.

“Good.” Walking over to her, he clasped her arms. “We have been travelling all night. There are restaurants open…”

“I want to go to bed!” She lifted her eyes, and he felt his heart slamming against his ribs.

“It is quite late.” He had to clear his throat in order to speak. “I don’t suppose you want to sleep.”

“No.” Stepping back, she tugged off her sweater and got rid of her bra. He had also given her confidence in herself as a woman. His reaction to her nakedness made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Greg had often teased her about being small on top and at one point, she had even contemplated getting implants. Now she realized how much he had beaten her down, subtly but surely. Leo was the exact opposite. He worshipped her body, spending time loving her breasts.

His expression as he looked at her now, made her feel like a queen.

“Take off your clothes.” She ordered and he obeyed with undignified haste.

*****

He did not believe it was possible to fall more in love with her than he already was. Her personality sparkled. He was proud to be seen with her. He introduced her to some business associates and clamped a possessive arm around her when they eyed her in that suggestive way they have about them as Europeans.

But she did not seem to notice she was being ogled, or if she did, obviously she did not care.

She was passionate in bed. Just the thought of what they would do when they were alone raised his blood pressure to impossible heights.

She had also become bold. Where once she had been hesitant and uncertain, she was now taking the initiative and mirroring his moves. In short, she was driving him crazy with his own methods. And she loved to explore his body, slowly.

Last night she had taken her time and made sure he could not interrupt, by tying his hands to the bedposts with silk scarves. It had been torture and he had almost rubbed his wrists raw trying to get out of the restraints.

He had cursed in both Italian and English and ended it with threats and then please. As soon as she freed him, he had jumped on her and almost swallowed her whole.

She turned him inside out and if it wasn’t clear that they belonged to each other, he was going to have to point it out.

He glanced over at her as she twirled the pasta around her fork. They were having lunch at a tiny trattoria where the pasta was buttery and designed to melt on your tongue. And the view was spectacular.

It was their last night in Italy. Tomorrow first thing they were headed home, and he wished he could freeze the moment.

“Marry me for good this time.” He had intended to wait a week or two before he proposed, but he was anxious for her to be his wife. To bear his name. He was almost certain she was already carrying his child.

“Let’s not spoil the moment. We have been having such a wonderful time. I have enjoyed every bit of it.”

His eyes narrowed as he reached for his glass of wine.

“And asking you to marry me, is spoiling the moment?” His voice was dangerously soft, alerting her to the anger simmering behind the words.

“We don’t know enough about each other.” His harsh laughter had her bristling.

“Baby, we know each other in the Biblical sense. We are intimate, incredibly so, if you would recall.”

“I am not talking about sex.” She hissed.

“What we do when we’re alone could not be termed as having sex.” He pushed away his plate, his appetite gone. “We know every inch of each other’s bodies…”

“And marriage should be comprised of more than sex – oh excuse me – making love. I do not want us to jump into something and later down the road, we discover we are not compatible. Sometimes you think you know a person…”

“Don’t.” The single word was delivered with such precision that she felt it slicing into her heart.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t compare me to him.” he finished the wine and pushed away from the table. “Finish your meal, I’ll settle the bill.”

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