Just the feelingof his weight on her was enough to drive Ally wild. His body, naked and glorious, the planes of him, the warmth of his skin. She could run her fingers over him for days and not get bored. She wanted to explore every single piece of him, to lick and taste, to touch and feel. When she flicked his nipples he made an animalistic sound of pure heated pleasure that made her toes curl; she liked seeing what he liked. But there was no thought to it. No brain space was available to process his reactions. She simply did what she wanted and enjoyed his obvious abandon.
They were wild together, though. Wild and untamed, feral. She’d been worried he’d be too gentle. That he’d restrain himself rather than letting their passion be free, but when it came to it, he was powerless, like she was. There was something bigger at play, that neither could control. His stubble dragged over her jaw, her décolletage, her sensitive breasts, leaving a stinging feeling in its wake, her overly sensitive body aware of everything. His fingers at her breasts were demanding and desperate, his mouth on her was promising pleasures that she ached for. And then, he was sheathing himself and tilting at her sex, pushing up onto his elbows to look into her eyes. “Remember our deal?”
She didn’t.
She couldn’t remember anything.
He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed the words into her soul. “You will tell me if you need me to stop. If it hurts. If anything is wrong. You just say and I stop.”
She bit into her lip, nodding urgently. “Please?” What more could she say? Her wants were outsized. She was at their whim utterly.
His fingers reached down, separating her seam, then shifted to her sensitive nerve buds, brushing over her as his enormous, hard length nudged inside. She tensed at that first feeling, a sting, a sense of something being new. But he paused and she groaned her complaint, lifting her hips as an ancient feminine understanding of this dance moved through her. Experience be damned, there was a shared, ancient knowledge that had lain dormant in her veins and was now being stoked to life. When she lifted, he nudged deeper, harder, and her muscles, tight and untested, stretched to meet him, to grip him, so he let out a sound that was definitely not human, followed quickly by a curse in Italian.
“Allegra.” Her name meant nothing. He was saying it as an exclamation, not a question. She closed her eyes as sensations began to storm through her body. “Okay?” He checked with her, and she nodded.
“Better than,” she promised. He moved his fingers faster, so waves of need and heat began to wash through her and her muscles clenched hard as he thrust the rest of the way, filling her up and staying there, while she adjusted to the new sensation of fulness, of complete and utter possession. She had felt no pain. She’d expected to, and yet in the moment, besides it being unfamiliar, nothing had hurt.
A smile shifted over her face as she blinked up at him, and she said, before he could ask, “So good, Luca. So damn good.”
It was like the bursting of a dam, the opening of floodgates. The permission he’d been waiting for to take her as he wanted, and she needed. From that moment on, he was pure perfect lover, driving her to the edge of pleasure time and time again and tilting her over it, calming her, then driving her wild again,all the while, holding off his own release for as long as he could, until she had been soaked in pleasure over and over and then finally, as she crested towards an enormous wave of need, he was there with her, exploding as she wrapped around him, as their voices mingled and euphoric cries filled the bedroom, the room glowing golden with warmth and pleasure, and the promise of this being only the beginning.
CHAPTER 13
IT WAS MUCH LATER when they finally finished cooking the risotto. So late that the sky was tinged with dusky colours and the heat of the sun had mostly faded, leaving only a pleasant balmy warmth in the air.
Ally sat curled up, in one of the large, white armchairs that were on the deck, legs beneath her, as Luca carried over their expensive-looking bowls, seasoned generously with parmesan cheese and olive oil. He placed them down on the low coffee table, then retrieved two glasses of crisp white wine, and handed one to Ally.
She took a small sip then placed it to the left of her plate, shifting a little in her seat so she could see him fully, in the chair beside hers.
The boat rocked gently and she expelled a sigh of deep contentment.
He turned to her and cocked a brow.
“I’m happy,” she explained, and a smile smudged across her lips to prove it. “And for such a long time, I thought I never would be.”
He reached out, cupping her cheek. “You deserve to feel that.”
His comment made her heart soar. “It’s because of you, you know.”
He tensed visibly and her happiness slipped slightly. But his reaction was all about protection. Protecting himself, and her, from the kind of attachment he’d warned her from the beginning just wasn’t possible.
“I mean, this marriage. The chance to travel, to start fresh. It’s exactly what I needed.”
His jaw was still clenched so she rolled her eyes and reached for her risotto. “Relax, Luca. It’s not a declaration of love. I’m just saying, this feels good.”
He laughed too then, but she heard a hint of restraint in the sound, that gave her pause for thought. Was he reacting to her words, or to his own thoughts? And feelings?
Did Luca have feelings? Was he even capable of that?
She dug a fork into the risotto without really thinking and lifted it to her lips, but then, she moaned, as the full assault of flavours exploded in her mouth. “Oh, wow,” she said. “This is incredible.”
“It’s simple.”
He’d made a saffron and scampi risotto, explaining as he cooked about the housekeeper who’d taken him under her wing and taught him to cook. It sounded to Allegra as though the older woman had seen what was happening in the walls of the Di Santis home, after the deaths of the brothers—the boys’ fathers—and had tried to intervene. To give love to boys who badly needed it.
“What about your grandmother, Luca?”
He angled his face to hers, expression thoughtful. “What about her?”
