Serpent Sting. Toni Grant

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СКАЧАТЬ the outline of his lips and jaw as Giulietta had done to her. She moved closer to Nicholas, breathing close to his lips and pressing her face to his. Breathing slowly and deliberately, menacing, before drifting slightly away.

      Francesca placed a measured kiss on each cheek and stopped millimetres from his lips. Nicholas felt the threatening power of her and he stilled, waiting, defiant, just as Francesca must have done with Giuliett.

      Francesca brushed her lips against his, paused, before pressing them again. Nicholas tasted her inexperience and suckled gently.

      Through renewed tears, Francesca opened her mouth to him. Wrenching his hands free Nicholas cradled her face, pushing his fingers into her knotted, auburn hair. Her bewildering passions exploded.

      The kiss deepened. Hands slid around her neck and shoulders, pinning her between the bedroom wall and his strength. Francesca melted into him.

      She breathed out at the sensation. “More,” she whispered.

      Anticipation gripped his shoulders as fingers expertly released the remaining buttons of her dress and the ties of her bikini. He stripped the swimsuit away. Through the thin cotton fabric, he rubbed her, teased her, watching her expression and the passionate call of her eyes. When at last he tasted the sweetness of her, she breathed his name softly.

      Hungry lips again crushed hers and Francesca tasted herself, a heady mixture of Dior and sunshine. She smiled at him.

      A warm, growing heat came from him. Her hands sought to touch it.

      Pulling at his swim shorts, she found skin. Her soft touch explored his hips and buttocks and in a rush of emotion, returned to meet his coarse hair. Francesca felt the urgency inside her stomach bubble up and escape from her lips. She kissed him hard exploring the softness of his neck and bit down gently.

      Nicholas groaned. Releasing the binding cord, he encouraged her fingers to explore his need for her.

      Francesca gasped at the silky hardness of him, marvelling at the feel of it before quickly returning to the safety of his chest. Her hands slid along his bare chest and shoulders. She bent her head to taste, flicking her tongue over the raised bumps as he had done to her, before nuzzling his neck.

      Tantalizing, intoxicating and completely out of reach. Without the slightest clue, she’d placed Nicholas completely under her spell. Again.

      He tasted her lips, found the softness of her mouth, before reluctantly pulling his head away from her. He held her close, cradling her against his shoulder. Gently he pulled her hips onto to him. His father would have his balls if he seduced her.

      He would do it anyway.

      “It was like that but without the last kiss from you,” she mumbled against his bare chest, wrapping her arms around him. “That didn’t happen because I screamed in her face and ran away. I had to find you Nicholas. I had to find you and be safe.”

      Breathing heavily, Francesca burrowed into the masculine scent of his neck and chest, her soft lips pressing against the spiky roughness. She licked at the hollow of his neck sighing at the new sensations filling her and spoke dreamily.

      “Kiss me again, Nicholas. I want to know what those other girls know.”

      Francesca’s hand tentatively slid down his stomach, reaching into his shorts. She breathed out pleasurably. “And I’m ready for you to teach me.”

      Nicholas woke with a dry mouth and his hand on his cock.

      The gentle rocking of the boat lulled him back to the present. He struggled to bring his thoughts together in the haze of past and present. His weary eyes searched the yacht’s bedroom in the vain hope of seeing her appear before him.

      God, would he ever get over her. It was not enough that he bore the physical scars of their secret relationship. Every night his dreams were filled with her. And every day, when he dressed, he was reminded of the girl he’d lost at the hands of his irrational father. Nicholas would risk it all again just to see her one more time.

      Sitting at the edge of the bed, Nicholas found his bearings and shifted focus. He sifted through the outcomes of the mission and the moments before he’d fallen asleep on the luxury yacht.

      Last morning, at Seta’s villa, he’d tasted success. And it was bitter. Six years of specialist military training had prepared him for the physical duties he’d undertake. To focus on the task and ignore the emotion required self-control. A skill learnt from his mentors.

      For the most part Nic was accepting of his new and anonymous life. A nephew indebted to his uncle. Alessandro had created the opportunity for a son to right the wrongs of a father. In this new regime he was a ghost, silently slipping between the layers of organised crime, protected by his uncle’s vast network of wealth and influence. To the world, and in the eyes of the past, Nicholas Delarno was dead.

      Physically and mentally, Nic was stronger than he’d ever been. It was the emotional journey that challenged him the most. Just when would he heal and how could he, when the chilling reminder of his mafia connections taunted his mind and scored his body every day?

      When at this moment, any effective solution was as elusive as Francesca herself.

      Once on board the yacht, Nicholas had immediately sought refuge in his room, isolation and sleep. It was the only way he could deal with his past when these particular emotions threatened.

      Pushing his hands through closely cropped hair, again he wondered if he was the right person for this particular job. In reality, he was the only person. It was upon Silvio Delarno that a son would exact revenge. If Carlo Seta stepped in the way, Nicholas would handle him too.

      His mind sought comfort and settled on Francesca. Her unwitting role as a child was more to do with keeping rivals in check. That was the way his father saw it. Silvio spent years grooming her as the pawn. The son knew she was worth more than that. When family business was passed from father to son, Nicholas would need Francesca by his side. He wanted her by his side. And he would have her.

      Nicholas dressed quickly. Thinking about what could have been was useless. It was the past.

      He checked his watch. Mid-afternoon. He was late. Unforgivable. His uncle would be waiting.

      “You did very well, Nicholas,” Alessandro greeted his protégé, looking up momentarily from the computer.

      Waves of grey hair framed his handsome face and even in weariness, the gentleman created a picture of elegance. Dressed in classic Armani chinos and lightweight knit, the sleeves were pushed back to his elbows. Rough black hairs sprouted sparsely along exposed lean forearms. The private sitting room’s wall of technology and computer screens blinked real-time images of the villa.

      “Would you like a pastry?” Alessandro indicated the arrangement beside him. “I’ll order fresh coffee.”

      “Zio.” Nicholas raised his chin quickly in acknowledgement. “I missed an opportunity last night. It was too risky with that other security detail.” He paused, adding stiffly, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

      “That’s the game I play, Nicholas,” Alessandro responded, knowing his nephew had something more pressing to say. He checked the monitor out of habit.

      “Francesca needs me. She’s not safe. Silvio’s trying СКАЧАТЬ