One Summer at The Villa: The Prince's Royal Concubine / Her Italian Soldier / A Devilishly Dark Deal. Rebecca Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ you more than I’ve told anyone else.”

      “I believe you have,” he said. “But there’s more, I’m certain.”

      She dropped her lashes, too startled by the intensity in his eyes to keep looking at him. He wanted her, she knew that. And she wanted him. But how could she when he wanted to steal her country?

      She was weak, far too weak.

      “A girl has to have some secrets.”

      His head dipped down and his lips touched hers. Softly, gently. There was no pressure, no urgency, just a sweet kiss that slayed her heart and left it wide open to him. Once more, she was aware of the fact she’d never felt this way with any other man. She’d never wanted one the way she wanted him.

      Had never wanted to slip out of her clothes and feel her skin naked against his.

      Had never wanted to open herself to him and feel the stunning beauty of his possession.

      She wanted all this and more with Cristiano. What did it matter anymore? They would very probably not come out of this storm alive. He simply didn’t want to tell her the truth of it.

      This was her last chance to experience physical love between a man and a woman. It couldn’t be wrong, not under these circumstances. She opened her mouth beneath his, touched her tongue to his bottom lip very delicately.

      He responded with a groan. And then he kissed her again, more urgently this time. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue demanding access. She willingly gave it to him.

      So many feelings crashed through her.

      Desire, of course.

      Fear. Regret. Anticipation.

      Of their own volition, her hands threaded into his hair, pulled him harder against her. His kiss shot up another notch, deepening, devouring.

      She met him with equal intensity, shifting until she was practically on his lap, until the only thing supporting her was the strength of his arms around her. The kiss was spiraling out of control, but she didn’t care. She only wanted more of this intoxicating feeling, this heat and fire that sizzled beneath her skin and made her think of things she’d never imagined.

      Naked bodies entwined. Sweat and pleasure. Bliss.

      But when he pressed her back against the carpet, panic assailed her. Part of her wanted to shove him away and run as fast as she could. She tried to withdraw into her shell, tried to view the events dispassionately from that deep, disconnected place within her—

      And found she couldn’t do it. Her usual refuge was denied. Anxiety spiked.

      Something of her struggle must have communicated itself to Cristiano because he stopped kissing her, lifted his head to look down at her.

      “What’s wrong, Antonella?”

      He sounded so tender, so concerned, and her heart careened wildly, skipping into her mental roadblocks, leaping against the constraints she placed. Her heart wanted to be free—and yet she knew it would never be free. Never free to love or be loved. Never free of the pain and anger of her past. Even if by some miracle they lived through this night, she would never be free.

      Suddenly, it was very important to her that he understood she was innocent, that she’d never done this before. Because if they did move forward, if this was her first and last time, she wanted to know that the man she gave herself to believed in her.

      “I—I don’t know what to do.”

      He frowned. “You don’t know whether or not to make love with me? It will be glorious, Antonella. Let yourself go—feel what we do to each other.”

      She closed her eyes, shook her head. “It’s not that.”

      His fingers spread over her stomach, slid up to cup her breast. “Then what is it, bellissima?”

      She dragged in a breath as his thumb brushed her nipple through the fabric. “I’ve never done this before,” she blurted.

      His thumb stilled its torturous track across her sensitive flesh. “Never done what?”

      His voice was like a whip and she flinched away from it. He would never believe her. Never.

      She pushed his hand away, struggled to move out from under the weight of his body where he half lay across her. “Forget it, Cristiano. It’s just a bad idea. I’ll sleep now.”

      He refused to let her go. His body pressed down on her, pinned her in place. And every wiggle of her hips against him only communicated to her the state of his interest in completing what she’d so foolishly begun.

      “I don’t want to forget it, Antonella. Explain to me why you do this. Why you are hot one minute and cold the next. Are you trying to punish me for wanting you? Do you enjoy these games? Because I grow weary of them.”

      She grew very still beneath him. Her eyes filled with angry tears as she looked up into his handsome, cold face. “I’m still a virgin,” she forced out. “And I know you don’t believe it, so please let me go.”

      “A virgin?” he repeated. “This is not possible.”

      There was a hint of self-doubt in his voice, but it did not cheer her.

      She pushed at his chest. “Why not? Because you’ve heard about me, Cristiano? You know what they say about gossip, don’t you?”

      Cristiano watched the pink stain creep over her delicate features. Was she telling him the truth? Or was she so skilled at manipulation that she could stammer and call up a blush at will?

       Dio santo.

      He thought back to her reaction when he’d been naked, the way she’d seemed uncomfortable. The way she’d grown frightened earlier when he’d kissed her. She hadn’t truly panicked until he’d hiked her dress up her thighs.

      Looking into her expressive eyes now, seeing the hurt and anger and uncertainty there, he wanted to kick himself. They’d shared too much tonight to fall back on entrenched beliefs. He could no longer think of her as the shallow, greedy woman he had only yesterday.

      She was innocent. In spite of everything, she was innocent.

      She had every reason in the world to fear him, yet she’d trusted him enough to let him get close to her this way. She’d been trying to tell him she didn’t know what she was supposed to do, not that she was uncertain of her decision.

      The fact she’d chosen him, of all the men who had no doubt tried to bed her, staggered him. Humbled him. He did not deserve her trust.

      “Antonella,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

      Her eyes widened briefly. But then the cool princess was back. She was so good at hiding her feelings. Had she always been this way? The thought troubled him. She’d been abused and she’d learned to shield emotion as a way to cope. No one should ever experience what she had.

      She looked away. “It’s nothing. I am over it already. And I’m sorry to СКАЧАТЬ