he fought for control. Laura gazed up into his face and put her arms round him, hugging him close as he rubbed his cheek blindly over her hair.
At last Domenico let out an unsteady breath. ‘This will be the first time we make love, also the last for much too long. I want it to be perfect for you, so do not touch me like that, carissima or this will not be possible. As I have told you before, I am not made of stone.’
It had felt frighteningly like it to Laura, a discovery that escalated the shaking problem still further as Domenico made love to her with skill and passion she responded to with ardour, which delighted him as he caressed her into a state of longing so intense that this time she yielded to the touch of his seeking lips and tongue in the place no man had ever kissed before. Shock waves of sensation surged through her entire body, rocketing her to climax as Domenico held her close, whispering ragged endearments in his own language.
When she was quiet in his arms, he smoothed her hair from her forehead and smiled down into her dazed eyes. ‘Now you know why a man wishes to kiss and caress you that way, yes?’
‘It was obvious what it did for me, but nothing happened for you, Domenico,’ she said, frowning.
He smiled indulgently. ‘It is a most wonderful thing for a man to know that he has given his woman such pleasure, tesoro! And when you are ready for me again I shall share the pleasure with you.’
His hands and lips and tongue caressed with such skill that soon Laura was on fire for him again and Domenico slid his hands into her hair, his eyes blazing in triumph as he moved between her thighs to enter her with slow, exquisite care, little by little, until at last she gave a ragged gasp of pleasure as he thrust deep inside her. She hugged him closer and he kissed her open mouth, murmuring in his own tongue as he began to move, gradually increasing the tempo as she moved with him until they reached a frenzied rhythm, which brought them to culmination so overwhelming they stayed joined, close in each other’s arms long after it was over.
When Domenico raised the head he’d buried in Laura’s hair his smile flipped her heart over. ‘We are not shaking,’ he observed huskily.
‘No,’ she agreed unevenly. ‘You cured it.’
‘We cured it together,’ he corrected. ‘Perfectly, beautifully together, carissima.’
She heaved a deep, unsteady sigh.
‘Why do you sigh, Laura?’ he asked, smoothing her hair from her forehead.
‘I was just wishing I could stay here like this and not move until tomorrow morning,’ she said frankly, and smiled sleepily as his arms tightened.
‘I also,’ he said, and kissed her gently. ‘But Signora Rossi will expect me to bring you back by midnight, Cenerentola. I will come back for you early in the morning, and we shall have one last breakfast together before I take you to the airport.’
‘But won’t you be needed at your hotel?’ she said anxiously.
‘Not until I have taken you to Marco Polo.’
‘You have a very accommodating job, Domenico!’
‘I will tell you all about it in the morning,’ he promised, and smiled down at her. ‘Tomorrow we talk; tonight is for love.’
It was well past midnight when they reached the Locanda Verona, but Signora Rossi merely smiled indulgently when Domenico apologised for keeping her guest out a little later on her last night in Venice. He wished the signora goodnight, then turned to Laura and raised her hand very formally to his lips.
‘Sleep well. I shall come for you in the morning.’
She gave him a demure smile and said, ‘Grazie, e stata una magnifica serata.’
The blue eyes narrowed wickedly. ‘It was a wonderful evening for me, also.’
‘Goodnight, Domenico.’
‘Goodnight, Laura.’
When the door closed behind him Laura felt suddenly so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. She received her key, asked for her bill to be made ready for the morning, wished the signora goodnight, and drifted up to her room in a happy daze. She managed to set her alarm before she fell into bed, and then slept like the dead until she woke to the ring tone of her phone next morning.
‘Hello,’ she said groggily, then shot upright at the sound of Domenico’s voice.
‘Laura! Are you awake?’
‘I am now. Is something wrong?’
‘Unfortunately, yes, carissima. There is a problem at the hotel. I have been called in to help with it—’
‘And you can’t come with me to the airport. Don’t worry, Domenico. I’m sorry you can’t make it, but I’ll be fine.’
‘I am more than just sorry,’ he said urgently. ‘There is so much I wish to say to you. Please ring me tonight.’
‘I will,’ she promised, keeping her voice steady by sheer force of will. ‘Goodbye, Domenico.’
‘Arrivederci, tesoro. Take great care, yes?’
‘You too!’
Laura disconnected and dragged herself out of bed, so disappointed she wanted to howl. She’d so looked forward to travelling to Marco Polo with Domenico, greedy for every possible minute with him after the magic of their night. She sighed heavily, then pulled herself together and got on with her preparations for leaving. When she was showered, dressed, her suitcase packed and the room tidy, Laura went downstairs to pay the bill, which surprised her by being less than expected because, Signora Rossi explained, the room was on the attic floor, much smaller than the others and less popular due to the absence of an elevator, therefore there was a discount on the usual tariff. Laura thanked her warmly, received her passport, and after goodbyes set off for San Marco to catch the No. 1 Aligaluna boat to take the slow journey back along the Grand Canal to say her last, lingering goodbyes to Venice on her way to Marco Polo airport.
Chapter Six
THE weather worsened over France. The descent into Heathrow was bumpy, and a very queasy Laura caught the train to Reading to get the next Intercity train to South Wales. Before she boarded it she rang her mother, who promptly volunteered to drive across the Severn Bridge to meet her. The train was packed and Laura escaped from it thankfully at Bristol Parkway, smiling broadly as she pulled her suitcase along the platform through the rain towards a small, hurrying figure in a dripping cagoule.
‘Darling,’ said Isabel Green, hugging her. ‘Welcome home. How was Venice?’
‘Fabulous. And a lot warmer than this. What a horrible day!’ Laura kissed her mother warmly. ‘You’re a star for braving the bridge in this wind.’
‘I thought you’d be glad to knock a bit off the journey and get home.’
They hurried through the rain to the car park and once Laura had stowed her belongings safely she sat back in the passenger seat with a sigh of relief. ‘How’s Abby?’
Isabel gave her
