‘Will you?’
Willow wondered if it was arrogance which had made him ask that—or simply a remarkable honesty. She wondered if she should listen to the voice inside her head which was telling her to heed his warning. That maybe she was setting herself up for a hurt bigger than any she’d ever known.
But it wasn’t as easy as that. She wanted Dante in a way she’d never wanted anyone—a way she suspected she never would again. Even if she met someone else like him—which was doubtful—her fate was always going to be different from other women her age.
Because a normal life and marriage had never been on the cards for her and it never could.
But none of that was relevant now.
She wasn’t asking the impossible. She wasn’t demanding that he love her—all she needed to do was to keep her own emotions in check. She had to. Because anything else would frighten him away—instinct told her that. She gave a little shrug.
‘I’ll try my very hardest not to fall in love with you,’ she said lightly.
‘Good. Because there isn’t going to be some fairy-tale ending to this. This fake engagement of ours isn’t suddenly going to become real.’
‘I don’t care.’
And suddenly neither did he. He didn’t care about anything except touching her like he’d wanted to do for so long.
Dante peeled the dress from her body and then couldn’t stop staring—as if it was the first time he’d ever undressed a woman. She was all sweetness and delicacy. All blond hair and floral scent and pure white lingerie. He wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to ravish her and protect her. He wanted to spill his seed inside her—and yet surely a virgin of her stature could not take him when he was already this big and this hard.
He brushed a lock of hair away from the smoothness of her cheek. ‘I’m afraid I might break you.’
‘You won’t break me, Dante. I’m a woman, not a piece of glass.’ Her voice trembled a little as she lifted her chin and he saw the sudden light of determination in her eyes. ‘Don’t be different towards me just because I’ve never done this before, or because once I was sick. Be the same as you always are.’
‘Be careful what you wish for.’ With a little growl, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. Carefully, he laid her down on the bed before moving away and beginning to unbutton his shirt, telling himself that if she looked in any way daunted as he stripped off, then he would stop.
But she was watching him like a kid in a candy store and her widened eyes and parted lips were only adding to his desire—if such a thing was possible. He eased the zip down over his straining hardness and carefully watched her reaction as he stood before her naked—but her face was full of nothing but wonder, and hunger.
‘Oh, Dante,’ she said, very softly.
It was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. He went over to the bed and bent over her, tracing the pad of his thumb over her trembling lips and following it with the slowest, deepest kiss imaginable. It made his heart kick and his groin throb, and when he drew back he could see she looked dazed. You and me both, sweetheart, he thought, his fingertip stroking along the delicate lace of the bra which edged her creamy skin, and he felt her tremble.
‘Scared?’ he said.
She gave a little shrug. ‘Scared I might not meet your expectations.’
He unclipped the front clasp of her bra, so that her delicious little breasts sprang free and he smiled as he bent his head to trace each budding nipple with his tongue.
‘You already have,’ he murmured throatily. ‘You’re perfect.’
Willow didn’t react to that because she knew she wasn’t. Nobody was and in her time she had felt more imperfect than most. But the look on his face was making her feel pretty close to perfect and she would be grateful to him for ever for that.
And now his thumbs were hooking into the sides of her knickers and he was sliding them all the way down her legs.
‘Mmm...’ he said, his gaze pausing to linger on her groin. ‘A natural blonde.’
And Willow did something she’d never imagined she’d do on her long-anticipated initiation into sex. She burst out laughing.
‘You are outrageous,’ she said as he dropped the discarded underwear over the edge of the bed.
‘But you like me being outrageous, don’t you, Willow?’
And that was the thing. She did. Dante Di Sione was both arrogant and outrageous, yes. She could understand why they called him a maverick. But he was a lot of other things too. Most men in his position, she suspected, would have bedded her before now—but Dante had not. He had tried to do the right thing, even though it had gone against all his macho instincts. He had resisted and resisted until he could resist no more. He was strong and masterful, yet he had a conscience which made her feel safe. And safety had always been a big deal for her.
‘I think you know the answer to that question,’ she murmured as she tipped her head back so that he could kiss her neck.
And Dante did know. He gave a groan of satisfaction as he explored her. He touched her wetness until she was trembling uncontrollably—until she had begun to make distracted little pleas beneath her breath. She was so ready, he thought, his heart giving a thunder of expectation as his hand groped blindly towards the bedside locker.
Thank God for condoms, he thought—though as he rolled the contraceptive on, it was the only time she seemed uncertain. He saw her biting down on her lip and he raised his eyebrows, forcing himself to ask the question, even though he could barely get the words out.
‘It won’t be easy and I can’t promise that it won’t half kill me to do it, but if you want to change your mind...’
‘No,’ she said fiercely, her eager kisses raining over his eyelids, his jaw and his mouth. ‘Never! Never, never, never.’
Her eagerness made him smile and when finally he entered her there was only the briefest moment of hesitation as he broke through her hymen, and he was filled with a powerful sense of possession.
‘Does it hurt?’ he said indistinctly, fighting against every instinct in his body as he forced himself to grow still inside her.
But she shook her head. ‘It feels like heaven,’ she said simply.
Dante closed his eyes and finally gave himself up to the rhythm which both their bodies seemed to be crying out for, though already he could sense she was very close to the edge.
Gripping her narrow hips he brought himself deeper inside her, bending his head to let his tongue flicker over her peaking nipples while she twisted like some pale and beautiful flower beneath him.
‘Dante,’ she gasped, but she didn’t need to tell him what he already knew.
He had watched with rapt fascination the build-up of tension in her slender frame. The darkening of those wintry eyes. The way her head moved distractedly from side to side so that her hair fanned the pillow like a silky blond cloud. Her back began to arch and her legs to stiffen, and just
