How the hell was he supposed to go through with this? Even forgetting that she was his hostage and the promise he’d made, Gino was used to sexually active, highly confident lovers, not vestal virgins. How the hell could he do this without hurting her in some way?
Why the fuck had he allowed himself be suckered into accepting her bet? He’d given his word not to touch her in any way, and he dug his fingers tighter into his skull, knowing it was an argument that cut no ice with Francesca. Her body was hers to do as she pleased with, not for him or anyone else to make trades over, whatever form that trade took. He almost admired her for her stance; would fully admire her for it if she hadn’t chosen him as the man to metaphorically stick two fingers up at her family with and take her virginity. Not just chosen him but neatly trapped him into it.
Why wouldn’t she see reason? He’d even spelt out the kind of man he was!
The handle of the bathroom door turned.
His stomach dropped.
When she appeared in the doorway with her dark chestnut hair piled in a dry knot on top of her head and only a towelaround her body, the whole of his insides plummeted…all except his heart. It pulsed and swelled all the way into his throat.
God, this woman was so damned beautiful.
Hauling himself to his feet, he muttered, “I’ll take my shower now.”
Her gaze on the floor, she nodded.
He skirted around her. When he reached the door, he turned back to her. “Go to your own bed, Chicca, and put your pyjamas on. For both our sakes.”
She didn’t answer.
At the click of the bathroom door, all the air trapped in Francesca’s body escaped in a whoosh.
The nausea ravaging her insides had gotten worse. Much worse. She no longer felt like jelly, more like overcooked noodles.
She hadn’t even kissed a man before, and what she was about to embark on was terrifying. But not terrifying enough to back out. She’d been curious about sex since her adolescent hormones had kicked into life, but the cotton wool her parents had wrapped her in had been packed too tightly for her to ever explore the sensual side of her nature. She didn’t even know if shehada sensual side!
Gino had a sensual side. She’d sensed it from the very start. Maybe that was one of the reasons she was so attracted to him. The man was a walking, talking, muscly stick of testosterone, and her underused hormones had screamed in delight for it, jumping to attention and waving flags for him.
While she couldn’t comprehend how anyone could have sex with so many people that they couldn’t remember all their names, she liked that he hadn’t tried to dress it up as a sex addiction. Gino had been deliberately unapologetic about hissexual appetites in his quest to put her off him, but she’d already known it. Not the full extent of it, but she’d sensed it.
Who better to teach her about sex than him? All his protestations had only made her more certain. There was no Mr Right waiting on the horizon for her, only marriage to a brute she was going to have to fight tooth and nail to get out of.
She dropped the towel on the floor, shook her hair free from the knot she’d made of it to keep it dry while she showered, and, her heart racing into a canter, got into Gino’s bed.
His duvet felt heavenly on her naked skin.
When he came out of the bathroom, his eyes locked straight onto her. His lips formed a tight line.
His chest and shoulders rose as he took a long breath in.
And then he dropped the towel onto her discarded one and stepped to the bed.
Chapter Ten
Gino had never feltsuch tension before. Born with an unswerving belief in himself, he’d gone through life like Midas, turning everything he touched into gold. If he wanted something, he stopped at nothing to get it. Often, he didn’t have to stop at nothing; the world bending to his will to make whatever he wanted to happen, happen.
The world wasn’t bending itself to his will now. He’d never been in a position like this. Never felt such a weight of responsibility pressing so tightly on him. Sickness roiled in his guts, so strong he doubted arousal would even be possible.
Lying beneath the duvet beside Francesca, he fixed his stare to the ceiling and tried to find breath. He could feel the heat of her naked body just inches from his own. Could feel the tension vibrating from it too… except her tension felt different to the tension so tight in him. In Francesca, he sensed smothered terror and nervous excitement.
Clearing his constricted throat, he turned his face to her. He caught a brief glimpse of her profile before she turned her face to his. Her cheeks turned into a flame as her bottom lip pulled in.
Her beautiful eyes were full of apprehension but also resolve.
He pulled in a breath through his nose.
In the shower, he’d game-played in his head how he would approach this. Francesca wanted him to teach her about sex, so he would adopt the mindset of a teacher. Of course, he’d done this mental game-playing whilst hoping he would leave the bathroom and find her in her own bed.
