although Dante could not deny that he had earned his playboy reputation, he had a strict moral code of conduct. He always made it clear to the women he dated that sex was all he wanted, and he never slept with a woman if she did not accept his rules.
Did Rebekah even know the rules? he wondered. Before they went any further he needed to be certain she knew he would never want a long-term relationship.
‘You are full of surprises tonight, piccola,’ he murmured. ‘It makes me wonder how much limoncello was in the fruit punch.’
Rebekah bit her lip. Perhaps Dante was trying to be gentlemanly by suggesting that she was drunk and therefore not in full control of herself. His tone had been faintly condescending when he had called her piccola, which she knew meant ‘little one’ in Italian. But she was not an innocent girl. She was a mature woman who knew her own mind, and it was about time he understood that fact.
She stepped closer to him and tilted her head to meet his glittering gaze. ‘I don’t think the punch contained much alcohol. I’m perfectly aware of what I’m saying … and doing,’ she assured him huskily, and leaned forwards to press her mouth against his.
Her heart jolted when she felt his body’s immediate response. He allowed her to lead the kiss for a couple of seconds before he groaned and wrapped his arms around her, exerting his dominance by plundering her mouth with savage passion that left them both breathless.
‘In that case, let’s go home, mia bella,’ he said tautly, and took his phone from his jacket to call his driver.
THE Bentley was waiting outside for them with the chauffeur holding the door open. Dante slid onto the back seat and held out his hand to assist Rebekah. No doubt his sophisticated mistresses were experts at climbing elegantly into cars, she thought ruefully, but her high heels somehow got tangled in her long skirt so that she tripped and landed practically in his lap.
‘Steady,’ he said with a soft laugh, as though he thought she was so eager to be in his arms that she’d deliberately thrown herself on top of him.
Flushing hotly, she tried to edge away, but he pulled her against him and claimed her mouth in a sensual kiss that left her breathless and trembling when he finally lifted his head. She felt a strange sense of unreality. Dante had dominated her thoughts from the day she had met him, and she could hardly believe she was in his arms and he was trailing a line of kisses down her neck to capture the pulse beating erratically at its base.
She had imagined moments like this so often, and had indulged in erotic daydreams that Dante was running his hands over her body. But now she discovered that the reality was so much better than any daydream. As the car threaded through the busy London streets it felt as though they were cocooned in their own private world. Outside was noise and bright neon lights. But inside the car the sexually charged silence was only broken by her soft gasp when he lowered his head to her breasts.
‘You have driven me mad all night,’ he growled in a gravelly voice that sent a little shiver of anticipation through her. ‘You were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight and every man had his eyes on you.’
Rebekah knew that was untrue and she was about to tell him that he did not need to win her over with false flattery, but she was distracted when he slid the strap of her dress over her shoulder and drew the fragile silk down until he had bared her breast. His harsh groan of feral hunger evoked a flood of heat in her pelvis. With a little spurt of shock, she realised he wasn’t playing a game or teasing her. His desire for her was real and urgent, and the hard glitter in his eyes warned her that he was serious about his intention to make love to her.
Her heart leapt into her throat. She knew the driver could not see them through the privacy screen but she felt exposed when she glanced down and saw her pale breast and the darker skin of her nipple. She caught her breath when Dante cupped the soft mound of flesh in his palm and lightly flicked his thumb pad over her nipple until it felt hot and tight and she longed for him to caress her with his mouth. Never before had she felt such an intensity of need, and she could not restrain a choked cry of disappointment when he drew her dress back into place.
‘We’re home,’ Dante told her softly. He found her eagerness such a turn-on. She looked unbelievably sexy with her long silky brown hair tumbling over her shoulders and her lips slightly parted and moistly inviting. The ache in his groin was building to a fierce throb of sexual need that clamoured to be assuaged. If they did not get out of the car right now he was in danger of making a fool of himself, he thought derisively.
As Rebekah followed Dante up the front steps of the house her heart thudded painfully beneath her ribs. The cool night air on her heated skin had restored a little of her common sense and made her question what she was doing. She had never had a one-night stand in her life, and she had only ever slept with Gareth. Didn’t that just sum up her life, she thought wryly. She was twenty-eight and had been single for two years, but she could write about her sexual experiences on the back of a postage stamp.
What if Dante found her inexperience a disappointment? Or what if he compared her curvy hips and unfashionably big breasts with the super-slim supermodels that she knew were his usual choice of women?
Maybe it would be better to stop this now, before she faced the humiliating possibility of being rejected by him. Maybe it would be safer to keep her fantasies intact and tell him she had changed her mind.
He opened the door and stood back to allow her to precede him into the hall. In front of her the stairs led to the second floor and his bedroom. She wondered how many other women had shared his bed, and she felt another pang of uncertainty.
Through an open door she could see the sitting room lamps had been activated by the timer so that the room was bathed in soft gold light. She spun round to face him, and thought with a touch of despair that he had never looked more gorgeous than he did right now. His white shirt was made of such fine silk that she could see the shadow of his dark chest hairs, and when she lowered her gaze the visible evidence of his arousal beneath his trousers evoked a fierce coiling sensation in the pit of her stomach.
She licked her dry lips. ‘Dante … I …’
‘Come here, mia bellezza,’ he said roughly.
The husky Italian words shattered her fragile defences. She knew that although he had been educated in England, Italian was his first language and he often reverted to it when he was angry. But it was not anger that lent his gaze a silvery gleam. Desire blazed in his eyes. He was looking at her in a way that made her knees feel weak, and when he pulled her into his arms she clung to him and tilted her head for him to capture her mouth in a kiss that made her forget all her doubts.
She had never been kissed like this; never experienced such magic as Dante was creating as he slanted his mouth over hers and took without mercy—demanding, hungry kisses that were utterly irresistible.
She fell back against the wall and wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed himself against her so that she was conscious of every muscle and sinew of his hard body. She felt the solid ridge of his erection nudge between her thighs, and the realisation that he was fiercely aroused increased her excitement. She might not be tall, skinny and blonde, but Dante did not seem to mind as he roamed his hands over her, exploring her contours with unashamed delight. He groaned his approval when he clasped the rounded cheeks of her bottom.
‘Dio, you are driving me insane. I need you now, cara.
