her looks throughout dinner that were as effective as any caress.
Afterward, they took dessert, a homemade lemon sorbet, into the living room.
He pulled her to the sofa beside him, their hips touching. “Dinner was fantastic. Thank you, cara.”
“You…you’re welcome.”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“I…”
“Do you mind?”
“No.” This was what she had wanted when she invited him to stay in for dinner, but when it came to the sticking point, she was nervous.
What if he found her as big a dud as Ray had done?
Marcello followed through on his promise to kiss her with a thoroughness that had her clinging to his shoulders while desire pooled low in her belly. He tasted like the lemon sorbet and sexy, delectable male. It was so different than when Ray had kissed her. With Marcello, she just wanted more and more and more. And he gave it to her, exploring her mouth with his tongue and letting her return the favor.
Finally he ended the kiss with a series of gentle pecks on her swollen lips. He lifted his head. “That went well, cara. I think we should do it again.”
She nodded, incapable of speech.
Then he put his hands on her waist and brushed his thumbs up and down over her rib cage. “But this time, I want you sitting on my lap.”
He couldn’t know it, but that kind of touch was incredibly foreign to her. She’d developed habits as a child that kept people at a distance physically. Unconsciously she’d avoided Ray’s touch as well. And when they did neck, he’d had a tendency to go straight for certain body parts. She hadn’t enjoyed his caresses all that much and had assumed it was because she just wasn’t very sexual. She now realized she’d been absolutely, terribly…no, wonderfully wrong.
Because she was reacting to Marcello’s touch like a woman who had been in a desert her whole life and was just now stumbling on the Lake Erie of sensation. And in many ways, it was true.
Ray had not had the water she needed, but she felt drenched by emotions from Marcello’s touch.
She scooted into his lap, loving the feel of his hard thighs below her. His hands moved around to caress her back with an erotic sweeping motion that made her tremble.
“You’re very good at this.”
He laughed and pressed his lips to hers again.
His hands moved all over her body in gentle, brushing strokes that made her feel like he was trying to see her with his hands. It was amazing and she grew scorching hot as her breasts swelled inside her lacy bra cups and the place between her legs grew damp and achingly swollen.
He stopped kissing her. “Don’t you want to touch me?”
“Huh…what?” she asked, dazed by the deep, dark cravings rolling through her.
“Your hands are clenched at your sides.”
“Oh, I don’t mean them to be.” And to prove she meant what she said, she splayed her fingers across his chest.
Heat emanated from him to her fingertips, even through his clothes. “I want to feel your skin.”
“Then do it. I am not going to turn down any way you want to touch me, Danette.”
There was something important in that reassurance, but she couldn’t work it out in her head right now.
She unbuttoned his shirt with shaking hands and touched him with those same trembling fingers. She’d never felt this way touching Ray, like she was on a very important journey of discovery. One that would kill her if she didn’t take it.
She explored Marcello’s chest with total concentration given to every nuance of feeling, every detail of his masculine build her fingertips encountered. His muscles made ridges under his bronzed skin. The dark, curling hair that covered his chest and disappeared in an enticing V into his pants was surprisingly soft to the touch. Shouldn’t male hair be coarse and, well…manly? But it felt so sexy, so incredible…and the skin beneath it was so warm. It was like touching heated satin.
She traced each ridge and she pressed her fingertip into his belly button while her thumb brushed the hair-roughened skin below it.
He groaned. “Cara, you are playing with fire there.”
He was fire…all elemental heat. Everything a man should be for a woman.
Her hands swept up his torso, stopping at his rigid male nipples. “You are so different from me,” she breathed.
He choked out a laugh. “You talk like you’ve never touched a man before.”
“I haven’t. Not like this.”
His hands froze in the act of pushing her top up to expose her skin to his heated gaze.
“What are you saying? Tesoro, you cannot be a virgin. I do not believe it.”
She stared at him, and then blinked, trying to make sense of his shock. “Why not? I told you that Ray was not my lover.”
“But surely there have been other men.”
“No.”
“But American girls date in high school and college. Everyone knows this to be true.”
“This one didn’t.” The passion clouding her brain began to fade. “I never had a boyfriend.”
“Why not? Were your parents too protective?”
“You could say that.” And she hadn’t wanted to date, either. She didn’t like explaining about the brace and no way would she have let a boy touch her and touch it. She couldn’t stand being so exposed.
Marcello moved back from her, gently removing her hands from his body. “This is not right. I thought you were a woman of experience. I cannot take your innocence.”
No, he couldn’t mean it. This wasn’t some Victorian tragedy. She was a modern woman, and perhaps waiting for marriage was something she’d thought at one time she would do, but she didn’t feel that way right now. She didn’t want any other man to be her first.
Only this one.
“But I can give it to you.”
“I am not looking for marriage here. I do not want a long-term relationship.”
“I’m not looking for marriage, either.” She’d missed out on so much, the dating, the furtive moments of passion teenagers share, the love affairs in college. “I want to experience it all with you, Marcello. I trust you.”
“But you are a virgin. You should wait until you get married.”
“I want you to be my first man. I’ve never felt this kind of desire before and I’m afraid
