Page 10 of The Sicilian’s Deal For 'I Do'

I don’t have all night.

Well, nor did he. At least, he didn’t have the patience to last the night. But he had now, this moment, and he wanted Mia. Because she could have been his?

Or because she was different from the women he usually dated?

It was strange to want someone you knew to be capable of such a deception, and yet he did want her. This was an aberration for a man famed for his vice-like grip of self-control, but it was just one night. Then he’d never think of her again.

As if to underscore to himself the purely physical nature of this, he placed her on the ground just inside his bedroom and began to remove her clothing, piece by piece, not slowly, not even particularly sensually, more as if he needed to see her naked and tick that box. His fantasies had been filled with what he’dimaginedshe looked like, surely the reality would be disappointing.

He stripped away her cotton shirt and simple bra, revealing her breasts, pale with dusky pink tips, better than he’d fantasised about. His gut tightened. Her arms were slim, tanned, her decolletage delicate and fascinating, with a pulse point that was rushing beneath his languid inspection. She stood perfectly still, eyes wide, as if she hadn’t expected this, as if she hadn’t come here for it.

Perhaps she’d thought it would be different. More foreplay. More touching. But hell, Luca wanted Mianow. Keeping a grip, barely, he moved his hands down her waist, squeezing at her hips a little before sliding down her skirt. It was elasticated at the waist and went easily. She stood in just a scrap of cotton. He wanted to kneel before her and reverently remove it, but he was still angry with her for the lie of a year ago, and even angrier because he wanted her despite her betrayal. What kind of fool did that make him?

Her breath snagged as he slid his fingers into the elastic of her underpants and began to push them lower, so he felt it against his forehead, warm and sweet smelling.

She stepped out of her underpants and kicked off her shoes, losing a vital inch in height, so he towered over her. He hadn’t noticed how dramatic their height difference was before—then again, she’d only ever worn shoes around him, and always heels. Was she self-conscious about her petite stature?

She was delightfully short and curved, the stuff men dreamed about, so womanly and soft, her skin like rose petals.

‘Please stop,’ she whispered, so Luca’s chest thudded. Stop? Now? His eyes jerked to hers, searching.

‘You’re staring at me,’ she explained, gesturing to her body.

‘Yes.’

Her cheeks flooded with pink. ‘I—don’t like to be looked at.’

He frowned, wondering at her meaning.

‘Would you prefer I touch,cara?’

She trembled, her nipples growing taut, her body swaying a little, so he took her physical response as confirmation, moving closer, close enough to feel her warmth, before wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her forward, hard against his body, so he could indeed touch her, all of her, from the sweet curves of her bottom to the beautiful roundness of her breasts. He cupped her rear, pressing her against him, his arousal hard through the inconvenient barrier of his own clothing. She made a muffled groaning noise, tilting her head back, giving him access to the swan-like neck, so graceful, and he took full advantage, pressing his lips to her pulse point first, flicking it with his tongue before suckling, taking pleasure in the idea of her getting a mark from his ministrations, hoping to leave an imprint on her flesh of where she’d been—and what she’d been doing.

Her responsiveness was his undoing. He moved his mouth to hers and she writhed against him, just like that night near the car, so desperate and hungry and he couldn’t resist touching her all over now, moving one hand to her breast, cupping it, fondling it, feeling the weight in his hand until he was taut with need, then driving it lower, over the swell of her hip, between her legs, parting her thighs and finding her womanhood, her warm, sweet, feminine core and pressing a finger inside, her moist, slick heat breaking the last of his self-control, so he kissed her as he undressed himself, so hungry and desperate for her, so overcome with needs that he barely had time to grab protection—an essential for Luca, who never intended to have children, and particularly not accidentally. Having lived with the consequences of being an unwanted child himself, he had no intention of inflicting that pain on another living soul.

His arousal was so tight it hurt to extend the rubber over his length; it hurt even more because it required him moving away from Mia to his bedside table, and taking a few seconds to perform the miraculous act. But once sheathed, he spun back to her, wild, like a caged animal with a glimpse of escape, and all the emotions this woman brought out in him rode to the fore. Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. Need.

‘Come here,’ he barked, the words short because he couldn’t help but resent the effect she had on him.

Her eyes widened, her tongue darted out and she moved, unsteadily, across to him, her body so beautifully perfect, he couldn’t tear his eyes off her as she sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at him, lips parted and breasts heaving with each rushed breath.

He prowled towards Mia, intentional and determined, standing above her, naked, hard, ready, eyes finding hers, cynicism unknowingly written across his face as he brought himself down, one hand on either side of her head, pressed to the bed, his body over hers.

‘I am glad you decided to come to me,’ he admitted gruffly.

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes were huge in her face, beautiful and mesmerising and awash with feelings he couldn’t decipher and didn’t want to know about. He couldn’t allow himself to care about Mia. It was bad enough that her body had haunted his thoughts without his consent for this long year, but he wouldn’t allow her humanity to seep into him. Better to stick to the bare facts of who she was, and all the reasons he couldn’t trust her.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other’s bodies.

He didn’t want to think about the betrayal of her parents now. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee, wishing he wanted her less so he could play with her more, but instead, he held himself over her, contenting himself with watching her face as he drove into her, hard and fast, he was filled with urgency, then still, because she froze, and he realised that the tightness around his length spoke of absolute inexperience, that the woman beneath him, around him, was a virgin.

His usually sharp mind could barely make sense of it.

Mia Marini had been going to marry him.

And she was a virgin.

He couldn’t say why but those two statements felt incongruent. He pushed up, staring at her, looking for answers in her face, but she was already recovering, moving her hips, drawing him deeper, and, while questions were launching through his mind, he was still driven by his body’s needs, by urges that made it impossible to see clearly through the forest. Thankfully, he knew enough to pause, to demand, roughly, ‘Are you okay?’

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