was too late.
‘Is everything all right?’ Alessandro asked.
Rachel gave him a rueful look. ‘I was just thinking about how different things would have been if I’d had more time with you back then.’
His gaze steadied on hers, holding it for a beat or two. ‘We weren’t exactly strangers, Rachel. I’d been working for your father for three years.’
‘I know, but I was only starting to get to know you when we started dating,’ she said. ‘I think I was only starting to get to know myself …’
His smile was fleeting. ‘You were young and used to living a certain way. It would never have worked between us.’
Rachel wondered if that were true. Did a difference in background really matter? Even royalty married commoners these days and lived happily together. Alessandro had qualities she had never seen in any other man. She suspected his difficult upbringing had given him a depth of wisdom that someone from a privileged background could never possess.
The meal progressed until it was time to clear away. Rachel pushed back from the table but Alessandro’s hand came down on hers and held her fast. Her eyes met his, heat pooling in her belly when she saw the dark blue flame of his gaze. ‘Thank you for doing dinner,’ he said. ‘I am sorry I can’t be of much help in clearing away.’
Rachel felt the burn of his touch, making every pore of her skin tingle. ‘That’s OK,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ll make coffee and bring it into the salon, shall I?’
He slowly released her hand. ‘That would be perfect,’ he said. ‘I will meet you in there in a few minutes. I have a call to make.’
When Rachel came into the salon a short time later Alessandro was sitting in one of the leather sofas, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The crutches were against the wall close by. He put his mobile phone away and moved his legs as she put the coffee on the table in front of him.
He patted the seat beside him. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Don’t hover over there as if you are afraid I am going to bite you.’
Rachel came over and sat down beside him, careful not to allow her thighs to get too close to his. But even so she felt the warmth of his body, and the citrus spice of his aftershave made her long to lean closer to breathe more of its intoxicating and alluring scent. It had been a mistake to sit beside him. She knew it as soon as he turned his head to look at her. There was no way she could disguise her reaction to him. Her breathing was all over the place, her heart rate rising as every pulsing second passed.
He put a finger to her temple where a strand of her hair had fallen across, his touch so light and tender as he brushed it back from her forehead it made her breath hitch in her throat. ‘Like silk,’ he said, picking up another tiny strand and running it through his fingers. ‘Your hair is like spun silk.’
‘It’s too fine and I can never control it,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I think I should just cut it all off.’
He cupped the back of her head, his fingers setting every sensory nerve on her scalp alight. ‘No, don’t do that,’ he said, his eyes locking on hers, dark, intense, serious.
Rachel sent the tip of her tongue out over her lips, a nervous, anticipatory gesture she couldn’t quite control in time. She watched as his eyes moved to her mouth, and the way his tongue did the very same thing over the much dryer landscape of his lips, leaving a faint glisten of moisture that instantly disappeared. She brought her hand up, her index finger tracing the line of his mouth in intimate detail, the smooth skin of her fingertip catching on the dry lines of his lips. ‘You should use lip balm when you go to bed at night,’ she said in a voice that was so soft it was close to a whisper.
His eyes were even darker now as they came back to hers. ‘Is that what you do to keep your lips so soft?’ he asked, placing the pad of his broad thumb on the pillow of her bottom lip, moving it back and forth in a slow caress that sent the sensitive nerves into a frenzy.
‘I—I sometimes forget …’ she said, swallowing as his mouth inched closer.
‘I guess it becomes a habit if you do it often enough,’ he said just above her lips, his voice low and deep and raspy.
‘Yes … it just becomes part of your nightly routine,’ she said, mesmerised by his mouth so close now she could feel his warm breath on her lips.
‘Like flossing and brushing your teeth,’ he said, caressing her top lip this time, taking his time over the bee-sting curve.
‘Yes …’ She could barely take in a breath; her chest felt so tight, her heart hammering now.
His hands cupped her face, his thumbs either side of her mouth, touching the sensitive corners. ‘I’ve been doing some thinking. If we are to convince others of the authenticity of our relationship we should really practise our moves a little more.’
Rachel’s heart gave a tumble. ‘Moves?’ ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Like kissing, touching, all the things lovers do in public.’
Her forehead crinkled slightly. ‘But I thought—’ He silenced her with both of his thumbs pressing softly against her lips. ‘Don’t think, cara,’ he said. ‘Just feel what is there between us. Feel the chemistry. Feel the electricity. Feel the heat.’
Rachel could feel the heat all right. She could feel it through the pads of his thumbs on her lips. She could feel it in her breasts, the tingles of her skin making her ache for him to touch her there. She felt it in her lower body, the feminine heart of her contracting with a pulse of longing that was activated just by him looking at her. It was magnified a thousandfold with his touch. She moved her lips against the soft pressure of his touch, her tongue pushing through to make contact. She saw the flare of his pupils and heard the intake of his breath as he moved his thumbs aside and brought his head down and sealed her mouth with his.
It was an erotic, heart-stopping kiss. It brought her senses alive in a way she had never imagined possible. She felt every movement of his mouth on hers, every subtle turn, every slide or glide, every dart and thrust of his tongue as he took the kiss to a deeper, far more intimate level. Her insides melted as he pushed her further back on the leather sofa, his weight coming over her, his chest crushing her breasts, making her aware of her tightly erect nipples and how they longed for more of his touch. She felt the stirring of his erection against her feminine mound, the temptation of having him inside her, the feeling of the friction of his body against hers totally and utterly overwhelming. She pushed up against him with her pelvis, aching for more contact, her need for him so desperate she made soft little whimpering sounds that came from deep inside her. It was as if a longing had been unleashed, an inner yearning she had never even realised she possessed until now.
He pushed down against her, the primal grinding of his male body against hers reminding her of everything that was different about them: his maleness, her femaleness, his hardness, her softness. The pounding of his blood as he rocked in time with her delighted her, making her realise just how much she had underestimated the chemistry that had always existed between them. It burned like a fire between them. It was a conflagration of the senses. They had only to be in the same room as each other for it to fire off. She felt that fire now. She felt it in every part of her body, especially now as his tongue curled around hers, calling hers into a sexy combat that mimicked what their bodies craved above all else. She felt it in the tautness of his muscles, the knife-edge tension, and the crawling need of the flesh that was like a thirst that could not be denied. She was thirsty.
