The Italians: Rico, Antonio and Giovanni. Kate Hardy

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      He retrieved it for her, opened the door and ushered her inside. He switched on the table lamps so that soft light spilled into the room, turned off the overhead light and pulled the curtains.

      When he turned to face her, she was biting her lip, looking nervous.

      He took her hand, drew it up to his mouth and touched his lips briefly against her skin. ‘Ella, if you’ve changed your mind, I understand.’

      Tm …’ She looked away. ‘I don’t want to disappoint you.’

      ‘It’s fine to say no. I’d never force a woman.’

      ‘I didn’t mean that.’ She still wasn’t looking at him. ‘I’m … um … maybe not very good at this sort of thing.’

      Her meaning sank in. She thought she’d disappoint him because she was no good at making love? The way she’d responded to him had told him that she wasn’t hugely experienced, that she was maybe a little shy. And he had the strongest feeling that someone had damaged her confidence. Who or why, he had no idea—but he could do something to fix this. To show her that it wasn’t true. To prove to her that she was a beautiful, desirable woman.

      ‘Ella bellezza,’ he said softly, ‘the first time between us isn’t going to be perfect. But that’s not a problem. It means we have time to explore each other. Time for me to learn what takes your breath away, and for you to learn what makes my pulse spike.’

      This time, she looked at him. ‘So it’s not a problem?’

      He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘No pressure, no worries. This is just you and me. And, if you change your mind, all you have to do is tell me to stop.’

      ‘I …’ She blew out a breath. ‘Sorry. I’m being really wet, here.’

      ‘No. It sounds to me as if someone made you feel bad to make himself feel better. So I’d say it was his problem, not yours.’ He sat down on the bed, scooping her onto his lap. She was definitely struggling with doubts, but not doubts about him. Doubts that another man had put into her head.

      The only way he could think of to reassure her was to kiss her. Softly. Gently. Coaxing her to respond to him. Stoking up the heat between them, touch by touch.

      He slid one spaghetti strap down over her shoulder and kissed her bare skin. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back; he took the hint and kissed a line across her throat, lingering at the point where a pulse was beating hard, then nibbling the curve of her neck.

      She gave a murmur of pleasure, arching against him, and made no protest when he unzipped her dress again. He slid the other thin strap down, and let the floaty material fall to her waist.

      ‘Yes,’ she whispered as his fingers found the snap of her bra and undid it.

      Colour bloomed in her cheeks as he cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples with the pad of his thumbs.

      ‘You like that?’ he asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

      ‘I like it.’ Her voice had deepened.

      ‘Good.’ He guided her back to her feet, then dropped to his knees in front of her, gently easing her dress down until she stood before him in nothing but a pair of lacy knickers and high-heeled shoes.

      ‘Nice view,’ he said softly. ‘You’re beautiful, Ella bellezza.’

      She didn’t look as if she quite believed him. Well, there was something he could do about that.

      ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ he said. ‘Your skin’s so soft. And you smell gorgeous.’ He traced a circle round her navel with the tip of his tongue. ‘You taste good, too.’

      He slid one hand between her thighs, cupping her sex through the lace of her knickers. She shivered.

      ‘I want to see you,’ he said softly. He wanted to see her abandoned to pleasure, lost to his touch. ‘I want to touch you, Ella. Taste you.’

      She shivered again. ‘Yes.’

      It took him half a second to stand up, scoop her up in his arms and settle her against the pillows. He’d meant to loosen her hair, but he couldn’t wait for that. All he could think about was making her totally lost to pleasure.

      He kissed her, this time more demanding; this time her response was more confident. More abandoned. Just how he wanted her.

      It was a moment’s work to strip the last tiny bit of lace from her skin. And then he kissed his way down over her abdomen, taking his time until she wriggled beneath him, arching her body and sliding her fingers into his hair to let him know she wanted this just as much as he did.

      He could taste just how aroused she was with the first long, slow stroke of his tongue along her sex. Sweet and salt, and most definitely responsive. She whimpered as he teased her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, swirling round and then sucking hard, varying the pace and pressure until finally he felt her go rigid beneath him, and heard her cry out his name as her climax hit her.

      Rico shifted up the bed and held her close. ‘OK?’

      ‘Very OK. Thank you.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘Oh, my God. I’m completely naked, and you’re still fully clothed.’

      ‘Because I got a bit greedy,’ he said with a grin. ‘You can always do something about it, if you want to.’

      She unbuttoned his shirt; almost shyly, she skated her fingers along his pecs. ‘You feel good.’

      As she undid the button of his jeans and slid the zip down Rico felt his control begin to shred. Right now he really, really wanted to be inside her. But he needed to take this at her pace, to make sure she was comfortable with him.

      And she took her time undressing him, stroking every centimetre of skin she uncovered, moving her fingertips in tiny circles against his skin and arousing him until he was on the verge of losing control. By the time she’d got him naked, he could barely speak, except to croak the words, ‘Condom. My wallet. In my jeans.’

      She fished his wallet out of his jeans and handed it to him. He retrieved the little foil packet, but his hands were shaking too much to deal with it. She smiled and took it from him, then unwrapped it and slowly, slowly rolled it onto him. Rico was almost whimpering with the need to bury himself inside her; he sat up, pulling her towards him so that she was straddling his lap, and then sighed with pleasure as she eased herself down onto him.

      Oh, my God, Ella thought as she straddled him. This was meant to be just a fling. A one-off. But, seeing the pleasure blooming in his face, feeling the softness of his skin against hers and the hardness of his muscles … The sheer intensity of their connection shocked her.

      It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was meant to be carefree and fun and mutual pleasure. No emotions. And certainly not this strange feeling that this was meant to be—because she didn’t want to get involved again. Didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want to risk her heart being shattered again.

      She pulled herself together. Just.

      ‘Is that good for you?’ she asked huskily.

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