“There’s only ever been you.”
I wait for him to return the words, but unlike me, Dante is neither a virgin nor a liar.
Keeping his gaze on mine, he nudges my thighs apart and pushes himself inside. There isn’t any give. Gasping, I contract around him, the wordstopstabbing the inside of my throat as he sheathes himself to the hilt.
Pinpricks of pain crackle where our bodies connect, yet all I can think is,It’s done.
“Are you all right?”
I swallow and, talented liar that I am, nod.
As he pumps his hips, whispering how wondrously tight I feel, sweat breaks out along my hairline. In all of Mamma’s books, the heroines experience such pleasure during the act that, without fail, it brings them to orgasm. I’m starting to think these anonymous publications were written by men, because I’m closer to weeping than I am to climaxing.
As the burning sensation spreads like Fae-fire, I try to catch my breath, but he plunges his tongue through my parted lips. Even though our minutes are few, I clap his hips to slow his fiendish tempo but fail at my task and merely end up holding on for dear life.
Thankfully, Dante doesn’t last too long, and when he finally spills himself inside of me, the blaze has subsided to a prickly warmth.
With a juddering breath, he drops his forehead into the crook of my neck and grows completely still. The relief I experience at that moment is so potent that I sigh. As he softens inside me, I coast my hands to the base of his spine, then skip my fingertips along the smooth beads woven into his coarse braids, over the mantel of his strong shoulders, and up the velvety shells of his elegant ears.
He inhales deeply, then levers his head to look at me. “Till my very last breath, I’ll remember today, Fallon the Charmer.” He closes his fingers around one of my hands and kisses my knuckles like the gentleman that he is when he’s not taken over by his lust.
I find my mind wandering to Antoni, to how sex would’ve been with him, but flick him far and wide. How dare I taint this precious event with contemplations of another man. “I’ll remember today always, too.”
I silently thank Nonna for that awful tonic she made me ingest. I may want Dante’s children someday but that day is far in the future.
He kisses the hinge of my jaw, then pries himself out of me, and strides to the basin. As he washes himself, he trails his eyes down my body, halting on the sheets that stick to my backside.
I peer down, and although I expect the red stain, I bite my lip to have sullied his pristine sheets. I’m about to apologize when a look of pride seizes his features. Sybille warned me that some men consider it a great honor to deflower a woman. I’m uncertain as to why, but if Dante’s pleased, then so am I.
As I sit, though, Nonna’s warning about leaving traces of my blood around the kingdom clangs within me. I grip the sheet and wrap it snugly around my body before standing. Luckily, my blood hasn’t seeped in deeper than the first layer of white cotton.
While my lover slips on his pants, I sashay to the basin and dampen a corner of the sheet to wipe down the insides of my thighs, then ball it up.
Before I can toss it into the washbowl, Dante lays a hand on my forearm. “Leave it, Fal. I’ll have it taken care of.”
Except I cannot leave it. Even if Dante isn’t ill-intentioned, someone in his employ might be.
Before he can stop me, I submerge the soiled linen. Dante’s lips pinch but he doesn’t admonish me for disregarding his directive.
I pluck my drawers from the floor and thread them onto my legs, then scoop up my dress. He helps me with the buttons, observing me with an unsettling intensity.
I scrub at my cheek, worried about dried drool or some other bodily fluid, but feel nothing suspect beneath my fingertips. “What is it?”
“I was just thinking about how much I’ll miss you.”
A heady thrill tiptoes up my spine. “Invite me to the palace, then.” Not only would we get to spend time together, but I’d be geographically closer to the trophy room crow. A win-win.
He looks like he’s contemplating it, but when he cups my cheek and sighs, I realize I’ll need to find some other way onto the isle. “You’d be too great a distraction.”
Is that why, or is he worried about my motivations?
He leans over and kisses me gently, then releases my arm to pull open his tent flap. “Gaston, fetch Gabriele. I want him to escort Signorina Rossi home.”
“I don’t need an escort, Dante. Just a boat.”
“You’ll have both.”
I sigh.
