‘Just kiss me,’ she whispered as they sank down onto the mattress. ‘And we’ll make it up as we go along.’
He kissed her for a long time. Tiny, brushing kisses at first and then deeper ones. And for a while, there were hard kisses which felt almost angry—as if he was punishing her for having kept him away for so long. But his anger soon passed and the kisses became exploratory as he licked his way inside her mouth and they began to play a silent and erotic game of tongues.
And then he started to touch her as Darcy had ached for him to touch her night after lonely night, waiting in vain for him to come to bed. At first he simply skated the palms of his hands down over her, as if discovering all the different contours and curves which had grown since last time they’d been intimate. No area of skin escaped the light whisper of his fingertips and she could feel every nerve ending growing acutely sensitised. Slowly, he circled each breast with his thumb, focussing his attention on each peaking nipple and putting his mouth there to lick luxuriously until she was squirming with frustrated longing. She wanted him to hurry yet she wanted him to take all day. But the rhythmical movements of his hand relaxed her completely, so that she was more than ready for his leisurely exploration of her belly when it came.
Their gazes met as his fingers splayed over the tight drum, his black eyes filled with question. ‘This is okay?’ he breathed.
‘This is more than okay,’ she managed, her voice growing unsteady as he slipped his hand down beyond to the silky triangle of hair, fingering her honeyed flesh so that she gasped with pleasure and the scent of her sex filled the air.
She reached for him, her pleasure already so intense that she could barely think straight as she tangled her fingers through his thick black hair, before hungrily reacquainting herself with the hard planes of his body. His shoulders were so broad and powerful; his pecs iron-hard. She loved the smattering of hair which roughened the rocky torso. Her fingertips skated lightly over his chest, feeling the rock-like definition of his abs. She thought his skin felt like oiled silk and she traced a lingering path over the dip of his belly before her fingers curled around the hardness of his erection, but he shook a cautionary head and pulled her hand away.
‘It’s been too long,’ he said unevenly.
‘You’re telling me!’
‘And I need to do it to you right now before I go out of my mind—the only question is, how?’
In answer, Darcy turned onto her side, wiggling her bottom against his groin in blatant invitation. ‘Like this, I think.’
‘But I can’t see you.’
‘Doesn’t matter. And it never used to bother you. Go on.’ She wiggled again and he groaned and she could feel how big he was as his moist tip positioned enticingly against her wet heat. ‘You can feel me now and look at me later.’
He gave a low laugh and said something softly profound in Italian as he eased inside her. But the moan he gave was long and Darcy thought she’d never heard such an exultant sound before.
‘Okay?’ he bit out, holding himself perfectly still.
‘More than okay,’ she gasped.
‘I’m not hurting you?’
‘No, Renzo, but you’re frustrating the hell out of me.’
His laugh sounded edgy but he began to move. In slow motion, he stroked himself in and out of her, his palms cupping her heavy breasts, his lips on her neck—kissing her through the thick curtain of curls. Darcy closed her eyes as she gave into sensation, forgetting that this was the only time they ever seemed truly equal. Forgetting everything except for the pulse points of pleasure throbbing throughout her body and the inexorable building of her orgasm as Renzo made love to her. Insistent heat pushed towards her. She could feel it coming—as inevitable as a train hurtling along the track—and part of her wanted to keep it at bay, to revel in that sweet expectation for as long as possible. But Renzo was close, as well—she could sense that, too. She’d had him come inside her too many times not to realise when he was near the edge. So she let go. Let pleasure wash over her—wave after sweet wave of it—until his movements suddenly quickened. He thrust into her with a deeper sense of urgency until at last he quivered and jerked and she felt the burst of his seed flooding into her.
Afterwards he lay exactly where he was and so did she. His skin was joined to hers, his body, too. It felt warm and sticky and intimate. Darcy just wanted to savour the moment and her deep sense of contentment as she waited for his verdict on that deeply satisfying interlude. Still remembering the dreamy things he’d murmured when they’d started to make love, part of her anticipating just what his next words might be. But when they came, it felt as if someone had ripped through that lazy contentment like a knife ripping through delicate silk.
‘So... Was that my reward, I wonder, cara mia?’ he questioned softly.
She pulled away from him, aware of the sudden pounding of her heart and the general indignity of turning to face a man when any kind of action was proving laborious. Especially when you were completely naked beneath the gaze of a pair of eyes which looked suddenly distant. She told herself not to read unnecessary stuff into his words—not to always imagine the worst. He told you he wanted you and that he’s been lusting after you...so go with that.
‘I’m afraid I’m not with you,’ she said lightly.
‘No?’ He turned onto his back and yawned. ‘You mean that wasn’t your way of thanking me for buying you a home of your own? For finally getting the independence you must have craved for all these years?’
Darcy froze as the meaning of his words sank in and suddenly all that vulnerability which was never far from the surface began to rise in a dark unwanted tide. Groping down over the side of the bed, she managed to retrieve her overcoat and slung it over herself to cover her nakedness.
‘Let’s just get this straight.’ Her voice was trembling. ‘You think I had sex with you because you made me an overgenerous offer I hadn’t actually asked for?’
‘I don’t know, Darcy.’ His tone had changed. It rang out, iron-hard—like the sound of a hammer hitting against a nail. And when he turned his head to look at her, his eyes were icy. Like the black ice you sometimes saw when you were out on the roads in winter. Or didn’t see until it was too late. ‘I just don’t get it with you. Sometimes I think I know you and other times I think I don’t know you at all.’
‘But aren’t all relationships like that?’ she questioned, swallowing down her fear. ‘Didn’t some songwriter say that if our thoughts could be seen, they’d probably put our heads in a guillotine?’
His eyes were narrowed as they studied her. ‘And if I promised to grant you leniency, would you give me access to your thoughts right now?’
Darcy didn’t react. She could tell him the rest of her story—and maybe if it had been any other man than Renzo she would have done so. But he had already insulted her by thinking she’d had sex with him just because he’d bought her this house. To him, it all boiled down to a transaction and he didn’t really trust himself to believe anything different. He thought of everything in terms of barter between the sexes because he didn’t really like women, did he? He’d told her that a long time ago. He might want her but he didn’t trust her and even though she could try to gain that trust by confessing her biggest secret, surely it was too big a gamble?
‘I’m just wondering why you seem determined to wreck what chance we have of happiness,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘We have a lovely new home and a baby on the way. We’re both healthy and we fancy each other like crazy. We’ve just had amazing sex—can’t we just enjoy that?’
Black eyes seared into her for a long moment until eventually he nodded, his hand snaking around her waist and pulling her closer so that she could feel the powerful beat of his heart.
‘Okay,’ he said as he stroked her hair. ‘Let’s