Dante's Blackmailed Bride (2 page)

Or so he thought until she appeared in the doorway and stared straight at him. For a split second he believed she came in search of him, that the ever-tightening tendrils between them were acting on a subliminal level and drawing her to him. Then he realized that her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness that cloaked him. He nearly groaned. She couldn’t see him at all. Did she even sense him? Doubtful. This was his insanity, not hers.

She hesitated while light streamed around her, capturing her in its warm embrace. She’d dressed simply, in a silk sheath of palest lilac. No doubt the color had been selected to complement the jewelry she wore—the set unquestionably the work of TH’s mystery designer. A delicate rope of silver, studded with the unmistakable glitter of diamonds and Verdonian amethysts, hugged the base of her neck while a simple confection of the same stones flashed discreetly on the lobes of her ears. Understated. Stylish. Sophisticated.

With a sigh of relief she stepped onto the balcony. The light from the ballroom gave her a final caress, slipping through the thin silk to reveal a womanly shape that nearly brought Sev to his knees. Full breasts strained against the low-cut bodice, while a nipped waist and shapely hips gave the simple dress an impressive definition.

She crossed to the balustrade and stared out at the view, absently rubbing her bare arms against the spring chill. Sev found he couldn’t move. The rational part of his brain ordered him to return to the gathering and finish the job at hand. But an overwhelming need eclipsed that small voice of sanity. It was as though some primeval part of himself dominated reason and rationale. He’d become a creature of instinct. And instinct demanded that he inhale her very essence and imprint it on his mind and body and soul.

Her instincts must have been as finely tuned as his own, for she lifted her head as though scenting the air. Then, with unerring accuracy, she spun to face him and her gaze collided with his.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

Francesca froze, every nerve ending sizzling to life in an instinctive fight-or-flight reaction. She couldn’t say what alerted her to the man’s presence. One second she believed herself alone and in the next heartbeat she sensed him on a purely intuitive level.

She stared at him and the breath hitched from her lungs. He blended into his shroud of shadows so completely that the ebony richness of his hair and suit melted into his surroundings, making him appear part of the night. Only his eyes were at odds with the endless darkness, glittering like antique gold against a palette of black. As though aware of her apprehension, he stepped into a swath of light coming from the ballroom to enable her to get a better look.

His height impressed her. He stood a full two or three inches over six feet with an imposing expanse of shoulders and long, powerful legs. For the first time since childhood, she felt downright petite. Reflected light cut across his features, throwing the patrician lines of his face into sharp relief. Heaven help her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such a gorgeous man.

But something stunned her even more than his appearance—the emotional turmoil he triggered. She’d never responded to a man like this before. Never experienced such an intense, uncontrollable physical reaction. She stood before him, filled with a feminine helplessness utterly foreign to her nature. Desire shook her, the intensity so absolute that she could only stare in bewilderment when he offered his hand.

“You’ve been waiting for me?” she finally managed to say. “Why?”

“I noticed you when I first arrived and hoped we’d eventually meet. My name’s Severo. Sev, for short.”

“Francesca Sommers.” She took the hand he offered before snatching it back with a startled exclamation. “Good Lord. What was that?”

He appeared equally stunned. “Static electricity?”

She’d felt static electricity before. Who hadn’t? In fact, as a child she and the other foster children had often delighted in scuffing their socks on the carpet before chasing through the house in order to shock each other. That brief zap of electricity bore no similarity to this.

She scrubbed her palm across her hip, but after that initial searing of flesh against flesh, the sensation changed. It scored her palm like a brand, though unlike a brand, it didn’t hurt. It sank deep into her bones—part tingle combined with a peculiar ticklish itch. She didn’t know what to make of it.

“Maybe we should try that again,” Sev said.

She took a swift step backward. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

His mouth tilted to one side. “I’m sorry. I have no idea how or why that happened. You sure we can’t try this again?” He held out his hand. “I promise, if anything bad occurs, I’ll keep my distance.”

She hesitated for an instant, then reluctantly slipped her hand into his. “So far, so good.”

The previous sensation didn’t happen again, true. Instead, another one took its place. It felt as though some part of him seeped from his hand to hers and sank into her pores before being lapped up by her veins. It slid deeper with every beat of her heart, imbuing her with his essence. Worse, each beat filled her with forbidden desire.

She fought the sensation, fought to speak naturally. “So, what brings you to the showing, Sev? Are you a buyer?”

“Not exactly, although the set you’re wearing is something I wouldn’t mind acquiring. May I have a closer look?”

No more than a couple of feet separated them. The single step he took in her direction shrank that distance to mere inches and magnified her reaction to him. Drawing in a deep breath, she tilted her head to one side so he could get a better look at her design, praying he wouldn’t take long so she could escape into the relative safety of the shadows surrounding them. The next instant she found escape the last thing on her mind.

His hand brushed her collarbone as he traced the curve of her necklace with his fingertips, branding her with fire. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

On the surface his comment sounded simple enough, yet a heavy, old-world lyricism underscored it, filled with the flavor of foreign climes. She could hear the faint strains of a glorious Italian aria, smell the tart richness of ripening grapes, soak in the heat and humidity of a Tuscan summer.

Unable to help herself, she swayed toward him and whispered his name. His response came in a frantic explosion of movement. He swept her into his arms, locking her against him. Hips and thighs collided, then melded. Hands sought purchase before hers tunneled into the thick waves of his hair and his spread across her hip and spine, flooding her with a heavy liquid warmth. Lips brushed. Once. Twice. Finally, their mouths mated, the fit sheer perfection.

She practically inhaled him, unable to get enough. Not of his taste. Not of his scent. Not of his touch. His hands drifted upward, igniting a path of fire in their wake. The most peculiar awareness filled her as he touched her. Though his caress aroused her, she didn’t get the impression his actions were a form of foreplay. Instead, it almost felt as though he were committing the shape and feel of her to memory, imprinting her on his brain.

She pulled back slightly, fighting for breath. “I don’t understand any of this. We’ve only just met. And yet, I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

“I can’t explain it, either.” Desire blazed across his face, giving him a taut, hungry appearance. “But, it’s happening, and right now that’s all that matters. Fortunately, that also makes it easy to fix.”

Yes. Thank goodness they could fix this terrifying reaction and make it go away. “Fine. Let’s get it taken care of.”

He caught her hand in his. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” She resisted his pull, not that it got her anywhere. He simply towed her along. “Go where?”

“I’ll pay for a room here at Le Premier, and we’ll spend the night working this out of our systems. Come morning, we go our separate ways, flame extinguished.”

Francesca fought to think straight. “This is crazy.” Severo, a man she’d met just five minutes ago, had kissed her with a passion she’d never known existed and then casually suggested they book a room at a hotel for a night of mind-blowing sex. He seemed to have missed one vital point. “I don’t do one-night stands.”

He never even broke stride. “In the normal course of things, neither do I. For you, I’m willing to make an exception.”

Under different circumstances she’d have found his comment amusing. Without the warmth generated by his embrace, the cool San Francisco air allowed her to regain an ounce of common sense and she pulled free of his grasp. “Wait. Just wait a minute.”

She watched him fight for control. “I’m not sure I have a minute to spare.” A swift grin lit his face with unexpected masculine beauty. “Will thirty seconds do?”

She thrust her hands into her hair, destroying the elegant little knot she’d taken such pains to fashion a few short hours ago. There was a reason she couldn’t go with him. A really good reason, if only she could bring it to mind. “I can’t be with you. I need to get back inside. I—I have obligations.” That was it. Obligations. Obligations to…She released a silent groan. Why the hell couldn’t she remember? “I think I’m obligated to do something important.”

Sev shot a perplexed glance toward the ballroom. “As am I.” His mouth tugged into another charming smile, one she found irresistible. It altered his entire appearance, transforming him from austere man-in-charge, to someone she’d very much like for a lover. “Since you don’t know me, you won’t appreciate what I’m about to say, but…I don’t give a damn about obligation or duty or what I should be doing or saying or thinking. Right now, finding the nearest bedroom is all that matters.”

“I’m not sure—”

He slid his arms around her, pulling her close, and her hands collided with the powerful expanse of his chest. Everything about him seduced her. The look in his eyes. The deep warmth of his voice. The heated imprint of his body against hers. “Perhaps this will convince you.”

He lowered his head once again and captured her mouth with his. Where before his kiss had been slower and more careful, this time the joining was fast and certain and deliciously skillful. He teased her lips apart and then slid inward, initiating a duel that she wished could go on forever.

Her hands slid upward to grip the broad width of his shoulders. She could feel the barely leashed power of him rippling beneath her palms, could sense how tightly he held himself in check. And she found that she wanted to unleash that power and break through those protective safeguards. What would his embrace be like if he weren’t holding back? The mere thought had her moaning in anticipation.

He must have heard the small sound because he tensed and a compelling combination of desire and determination poured off him. His kiss deepened as he shifted from enticement to an unmistakable taking. He wanted her, and he expressed that want with each escalating kiss. If they’d been anywhere else, she’d have done something outside her realm of expertise. She’d have surrendered to his seduction and given herself to him right then and there.

She’d never experienced anything that felt so right, not in all her twenty-six years. How could she have doubted? How could she have questioned being with this man? She belonged here in his arms and nowhere else. She wanted what only he could offer. More, she wanted to give him just as much in return. As though sensing the crumbling of her defenses, he lifted his head and stared down at her with dark, compelling eyes.

“Come with me,” he insisted, and held out his hand. “Take the chance, Francesca.”

How could she refuse him? Without another word of protest, she linked her fingers with his.

F
rancesca remembered little of their passage from the balcony to the front desk of the hotel. She existed in a dreamlike bubble, every word and action touched with enchantment. From the moment she put her hand in Sev’s, the insanity that invaded her earlier came crashing back with even greater intensity. After he collected a key card and made a brief stop at the gift shop for supplies, he led her to a private elevator that whisked them straight to the penthouse suite. It wasn’t until she stepped inside that a modicum of common sense prevailed.

“Perhaps we could have a drink and get to know each other,” she suggested. “Take this a little slower.”

To her surprise, he didn’t argue. Maybe he felt the same way she did—overwhelmed and off-kilter. Desperate to regain his footing in this strange new land they’d stumbled upon.

“Let me see what they have in stock.” He checked the selection of wines and chuckled, the deep, rich sound tripping along her nerve endings. He hefted one of the bottles. “Well, would you look at this. Here’s something you might enjoy. They actually carry one of my family’s labels from Italy.”

“You’re vintners?” she asked in surprise.

“My extended family is.” He smiled, the relaxed warmth and humor causing her system to react in the most peculiar way. “I have a huge extended family. You probably couldn’t mention a single field of interest where I couldn’t find one of my relatives in that business.”

“Even the jewelry business?” she joked. Since he’d been at Timeless Heirlooms’ showing, he must have some connection to the jewelry industry.

He gave her an odd look. “Especially the jewelry business.”

Before she could ask the next logical question—why he’d been present at the showing—he handed her the wine. Their fingers brushed and she caught her breath, the sound a sharp, urgent reaction to his touch. The fragile glass trembled in her grasp and without a word she set it on the closest surface. Slowly, ever so slowly, her gaze shifted to meet his and time froze.

How was this possible? How could she experience such intense feelings for a man she knew nothing about? She’d always kept herself guarded, had made a point to develop previous relationships slowly and with great care. Emotional distance promised safety. This—whatever
this
was—promised excitement, yet threatened danger.

Spending the night with Sev would change her, mark her in some indelible fashion. And yet, even knowing all that, an uncontrollable yearning built within, sweeping relentlessly through her, a yearning she had no more power to resist than the tide could fight the forces that drove each wave toward shore.

She gave up the battle. Stepping into his arms, she surrendered to his embrace. Relief surged through her, catching her by surprise. It took an instant to identify the cause and realize that it felt wrong to be apart from him, that on some level she needed to touch him and have him touch her. That without him she felt adrift and incomplete.

Without a word she helped him remove his suit jacket, the heavy silence broken only by the sigh of silk. His tie followed. She tackled the buttons of his shirt next. It felt so peculiar to stand before him and perform such an intimate, domestic chore. This should be a wife’s pleasure. Or a lover’s. She was neither. Or did a one-night stand qualify her as his lover?

His shirt parted, the crisp white of fine cotton juxtaposed against the tawny darkness of his skin. Her hands hovered for an instant, creating an additional contrast of cream against rich gold, before she flattened her palms against hard, bare flesh. She splayed her fingers across the rippled warmth and slid them upward, sweeping his shirt from his shoulders. Desire hummed through her veins and reverberated in her soft murmur of delight.

“Nice,” she whispered.

“I plan to make it nicer.”

A laugh escaped her. “I didn’t notice before, but you have an accent.”

His mouth curved to one side, an answering laugh turning his eyes to a dazzling gold. “Maybe it’s because Italian was our first language, even though my brothers and I were born and raised in San Francisco.”

She wanted to ask more questions, to learn everything possible about him. But more urgent demands took precedence. Unable to help herself, she feathered a line of kisses along the firm sweep of his jaw. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Forking her hands into his crisp, dark hair she drew his head downward and found his mouth with hers.

With a moan of pleasure, she sank inward, tasting the single sip of wine he’d consumed before passion had overruled social niceties. He teased her with a series of gentle kisses, at distinct odds with the ones they had shared earlier. These tempted. Suggested. Offered a dazzling promise of hot, sultry nights and endless pleasure. She pressed closer, her silk-covered breasts warm and heavy against the bare expanse of his chest. She reached for the zip to his trousers just as an insistent burr came from the cell phone he’d tucked into his pocket. Startled, she took a hasty step back.

“Wait.” Sev fished out the phone and set it for voice mail before tossing it toward a nearby coffee table. It missed, clattering to the floor. “There. All taken care of.”

“Don’t you need to get that?” she asked.

“It’s just my brother. It can wait until morning.”

A slight frown creased his brow. Once upon a time he’d have taken Marco’s call regardless of the circumstances. On some level he recognized the urgency of speaking to his brother. But that urgency faded to a dull, nagging sensation, one easily dismissed.

Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Not this crazed need. Not taking time away from business for a sexual interlude. Not the haste and desperation of making this woman his. From the minute they kissed, nothing else existed for him but a raw, desperate wanting, one he intended to satisfy.

“Forget about the phone.” He cupped her neck and urged her closer, forking his fingers into her hair and tumbling the loosened strands into total disarray. “Forget about everything but right here and right now.”

She relaxed against him and in the muted light her hair gleamed softly while her dark eyes held mysteries he longed to probe. He found the zip to her dress and lowered it the length of her spine. She released a sigh as the fabric parted. Inch by inch, the silk slid from her shoulders, revealing acres of smooth, pale skin. It skimmed her breasts before drifting downward to cling to her hips. A simple nudge sent the gown floating to the carpet, leaving her standing within his embrace wearing nothing but garter and stockings, panties and heels. And her jewelry. It glittered against a palate of cream.

He cupped her hips, supporting her as he sank downward, brushing a series of slow, openmouthed kisses from the pearled tips of her breasts to her soft belly. He slipped her heels from her feet and tossed them aside. Then he turned his attention to her stockings. It only took a moment to release the light-as-air nylons and roll them down the endless length of her legs, before disposing of her garter belt.

Damn, but she was sheer perfection, with narrow, coltish ankles, shapely calves and long, toned thighs. He paused where lilac silk acted as her final bastion of defense to press a kiss against the very heart of her. She trembled beneath his touch, sagging within his grasp.

“No more,” she gasped. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” he replied roughly.

And he did. If they didn’t find the bedroom soon, they weren’t going to make it there at all. He rose and her hands flew to his waistband, ripping at his belt and zipper. He backed her toward the bedroom as she fought to strip him, all the while snatching greedy, biting kisses. In the hallway, he kicked off his shoes and stepped free of his trousers. And then he swung her into his arms.

Sev reached the bed in three short steps and returned her to her feet. He cupped her face, his hands sweeping past the necklace she still wore. The feel of cool gemstones against his heated flesh allowed sanity to return for a brief instant, at least long enough for him to recognize his obligation to protect her jewelry from harm. With a practiced flick of his fingers, he removed necklace, bracelet and earrings and arranged them with due care on the nightstand table.

Satisfied, he returned his attention to Francesca, lowering her to the mattress. She lay in a tumble of creamy white against the darkness of the duvet. Opening the box he’d purchased at the gift store, he removed protection and put it within easy reach. Then he stripped off his boxers and joined Francesca on the bed. Lights from the city drifted through the unshaded windows opposite them, tinting her with an opalescent glow that battled the shadows attempting to conceal her from him.

The peaks of her naked breasts reflected the muted light, while darkness flung a protective arm low across her belly where her final scrap of clothing remained. She lay quietly beneath his scrutiny, her face turned toward his. Light and shadow worked its magic there, as well, the moon slicing a band of brightness across the ripe fullness of her bee-stung mouth, while her eyes—eyes the deep, rich brown of bittersweet chocolate—remained hidden from him.

He traced a path from moonlight to shadow, delving into the mysteries the dark kept hidden. Her eyes fluttered shut and filled him with an intense curiosity to know all she fought to hide. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m wondering how I came to be here.” She shuddered beneath his touch and it took her a minute to finish. “One instant my life is simple and clear-cut and the next it has me so confused I can’t think straight.”

“Then don’t think. Just feel.”

He kissed her cupid’s mouth. Unable to resist, he captured the plump bottom lip between his teeth and tugged ever so gently. His reward came in the low, helpless moan that escaped her.

“Do that again,” she urged.

“All night long, if that’s what you want.”

He teased her lips once more, light, brushing strokes that promised without satisfying, suggested without delivering. To his amusement, she chased his wandering mouth in greedy pursuit. He finally let her catch him, delighting in the way she coaxed him into a deeper kiss. She gave both promise and satisfaction, delivering on all he’d suggested. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, of the incredible parry and slide and nibble of lips and tongue and teeth.

With each exchange, the fever within burned higher and brighter, demanding instant gratification. Sev resisted, refusing to rush. Francesca deserved more. For that matter, so did he. He wanted to explore every inch of her, to delve over each luscious hill and into every valley. To commit her to memory, and then repeat the process in case he’d missed something.

“Why have you stopped?” The question came in a whisper, her confusion communicated through the growing tension in her shoulders and back. “Is something wrong?”

“I haven’t stopped,” he reassured. “I’ve just slowed down.”

“Oh, I get it. You want to drive me crazy.”

He chuckled. “Drive us both crazy.”

Her tension changed in tenor, no longer a self-conscious nervousness, but a woman’s driving desire, full-bodied and certain. A vibrating need sent a burst of urgency through him. Maybe he’d been kidding himself. Slow was guaranteed to kill him.

Her long graceful hands swept across his torso from shoulder to hip, exploring with open delight. Despite her eagerness, he sensed a tentativeness behind each touch, a newness that spoke of sweet inexperience, right up until her hand closed around him with gentle aggression. Okay, maybe not total inexperience. She found the foil packet he’d set aside for their use and ripped it open, sliding the condom over him with deliberate, torturous strokes. Unable to stand another second, he rolled her under him.

Her body gave as only a woman’s body could, accommodating the press and slide of a man’s passion. The moonlight shifted, fully baring her to his gaze. High, round breasts tempted his caress, the nipples already ripe and taut with need. He gave them his full attention, each sweep of tongue and hand causing her breath to hitch and her heartbeat to race. Drifting lower, he paused long enough to give due attention to an abdomen that combined the sheen of satin with the softness of down.

And then he eased her panties from her hips. He followed their path with a string of kisses, before drawing the scrap of silk and lace off and allowing it to drift to the floor behind him. With that final garment removed, it left nothing between them but heated air. Thick, honeyed curls shielded the apex of her thighs and he cupped her there, drawing a single finger along the damp cleft, inciting a shudder of desperate yearning.

“It’s been a while,” she warned. He caught the hint of apprehension she struggled to control. “I haven’t—”

He was quick to reassure. “I’ll go slow. You can stop me if I do anything you don’t like.”

“I won’t stop you.” Her eyes darkened. “I can’t.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.” He swept her loosened hair away from her eyes, the dark blond strands framing the face of an angel. “Slow and easy now, sweetheart. Open for me,” he urged. “Let me in.”

To his relief, she didn’t hesitate. Her thighs parted, lifted, exposing her most private secrets to him. Ever so gently he teased the opening, tracing his thumb across the very center of her pleasure. She tensed, drawn bowstring-taut, and the breath escaped her lungs in a moan of sheer delight. Again he circled and swirled, until he sensed she teetered on the very edge, before he eased between her legs and sank into her.

She fisted around him, hot and slick and tight. He fought for control and a modicum of finesse, while instinct rode him, slashed through him, inciting him to take her hard and fast. To mate. To storm her defenses and shatter them once and for all. But he couldn’t hurt her like that. She deserved better. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pressed inward. If she hadn’t told him of her previous lover, he’d have sworn she’d come to him untouched.

“Am I hurting you?” The guttural tone of his voice shocked him. He could hear the raw, feral quality of a man teetering on the edge. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I need…” A rosy flush of want rode her cheekbones, and her expression in the moonlight revealed a vulnerability to him and him alone. She twined her arms and legs around him, her fingernails digging into his back. “More, please.”