Page 16 of Bound By The Italian’s 'I Do'

She lifted the bowl to him. ‘Be my guest.’

‘Grazie.’

‘Prego.’

‘You speak my language?’

There was a slight hesitation. ‘Some.’

‘I should have guessed seeing as you’ve given this beautiful vessel an Italian name.’ Dipping his spoon into the ice cream, he lifted it to his mouth and added in Italian, ‘I always think the best place to serve ice cream is on the naked body...and the best way to eat it is with my tongue.’

The dark stain of colour that flushed over her told him she’d understood him perfectly. The way she adjusted herself in her seat told him the image he’d evoked in her mind had infused into her body.

Smiling, he popped the spoon into his mouth.

Issy had to cross her legs tightly to stop herself from overtly squirming. But the bastard knew. She could see it in his eyes. He knew she’d understood his seductively delivered words and the effect they were having on her.

His command of the English language was so good it was easy to forget when speaking to him that Gianni was Italian. Hearing that deep, sensuous voice in his mother tongue though...

It landed like a caress that penetrated deep into her core. His words had only added to the effect, and scrambled her brain to stop any quip forming.

Quite honestly, she needed to throw herself back into the pool to cool down.

God, she hoped the meeting in London was going to plan. Hoped the signing of the contracts was sped up and that it would all be wrapped up in a matter of days as Amelia expected and didn’t drag on, because sitting there with Gianni’s divinely masculine torso and heaven-sent face in her eye-line, the aftermath of the crush of their bodies still zinging through her skin and the mark of his mouth still on her lips...

This was hell.

Somehow she had to find a way to keep him distracted without compromising herself any further because she couldn’t do this. It was too dangerous. Her awareness of Gianni was going through the roof. It was torture to even look him in the eye.

But look him in the eye she must, and she put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand to murmur, ‘We seem to be in a quiet stretch of water. How about I get the captain to anchor and we can get the slide out or take the Jet Skis for a spin?’

His eyes gave the sensuous glitter that melted her pelvis. ‘Bella, I’ve been fantasising about your slide since you first mentioned it.’

Issy contemplated the slide the crew had just finished inflating. Attached to the top sun deck and sweeping straight into the sea, it reminded her of a taller, narrow version of an airplane’s safety slide. It wasn’t just the slide that had been inflated. Next to where it jutted into the sea bobbed a giant square inflatable that could easily fit ten people on it. That too had been attached to the yacht.

She contemplated it because she wasn’t the strongest of swimmers. She’d spent her childhood summers in and out of their Italian holiday home’s swimming pool, but that had been a long time ago and, until that day, she hadn’t been in a pool since. Even back then she’d never been interested in swimming itself, more interested in splashing around and trying to get a rise out of her sister by hurling beach balls at her head. Also, that had been a pool, with a definable bottom. She didn’t dare ask the captain how deep the passage of water they’d anchored in was.

‘Ready?’ Gianni asked with that devilish grin of his.

Reminding herself that she was supposed to be a fearless society party girl, Issy grinned back. ‘Race you to the top.’

She was off before she’d finished making her challenge, already darting up the steps to the next deck before Gianni realised what she was doing.

One good thing about working so hard on sculpting her body in recent years was that it had made her fit. Hungry, yes, but definitely fit. Also, it had made her quick on her feet, and she’d skipped up the first set of steps before Gianni even reached them. Laughing over her shoulder, she raced up the second set to the next deck, easily maintaining her lead, maintaining it too as she whipped up the third and final set... But no sooner had she put her foot on the top deck than a strong arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her in the air.

Legs flailing, she screamed, half in laughter and half in fright. For such a big man, she hadn’t heard him closing in on her. He must have been holding himself back.

Dear God, she’d known Gianni was strong but he carried her near the top of the slide as if she weighed nothing, and when he put her down and twisted her round to face him, the size difference between them, even more prominent as she was barefoot, hit her starkly for the first time.

This man could break her in two with no effort whatsoever.

The sense of danger crept its way back through her but even as she tried to decipher it, she knew it was nothing to do with his size, that he would never use his physicality to hurt her.

He gazed down at her, blinked and shook his head. ‘You’re tiny.’

Uh-oh, she could feel a burn spread across her face. Gianni liked his women tall and leggy. In all her research she’d never learned of a lover who stood under five foot seven.

He placed his fingers under her chin and bowed his head. ‘You carry yourself so tall but you’retiny.’

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