IT SEEMED TO take an age for Lara to fall asleep. She could have sworn she heard Ciro outside her bedroom, and even as she’d longed for him to come in she’d known that if he did she wasn’t sure she’d be able to maintain the façade that she was as cool and impervious to their intimacy as he was.
So when he didn’t appear in her doorway she couldn’t help a tiny dart of relief.
She slept fitfully, and when she woke at some point in the night she wasn’t sure if she’d been asleep for hours, or had only just fallen asleep.
And then she heard it—the sound that must have woken her. A shout. A guttural shout drawn from the very depths of someone’s soul.
Ciro.
The tiny hairs stood up all over Lara’s body as he shouted again—something indeterminate. Half English, half Italian. She realised she was getting out of bed before she’d even decided to do so, and she went to the adjoining door to Ciro’s room.
And then he unleashed a cry that she did understand.
‘No—stop!’
Lara didn’t hesitate. She opened the door and flew into Ciro’s room, where he was thrashing in the bed. Naked. A sheet was tangled around his hips and legs, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. His skin was sheened with sweat. His hair was damp.
Lara went into the bathroom and soaked a cloth with cold water. She brought it back and sat beside Ciro on the bed, pressing the damp cloth to his forehead. She desperately wanted to ease his pain without waking him, if she could help it. She knew he wouldn’t thank her for seeing him in such a vulnerable state.
But then one of his hands caught her wrist and suddenly she was looking down into wide open dark eyes. She held her breath. He was breathing as if he’d run a marathon.
‘Ciro...?’ Lara whispered. ‘You were dreaming...’
With a sudden move Ciro had Lara flat on her back and was looming over her, both her wrists caught in his hands. Now she was breathing as if she’d been running. She didn’t know if he was asleep or awake and he looked crazed. Yet she wasn’t scared. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Even like this.
Ciro was still reeling from the nightmare. So vivid he could still taste it on his tongue. Acrid. He wasn’t even sure where he was. All he could see were Lara’s huge blue eyes. Soft and full of the same emotion she’d had in them earlier when she’d held the dog. Pity... No, not pity. Compassion.
It impacted Ciro deep inside, and he felt a desperate need to transmute the effects of the nightmare into something much more tangible. He could feel her body against his, all lithe and soft like silk. The press of her breasts...the cradle of her hips.
He was so hard it hurt. Hard and aching. And not just in his body. In his chest, where he felt tight.
He took his hands off her wrists and put them either side of her head. ‘I need you, Lara. Right here, right now, and I can’t promise to be gentle. So if you want to go, go now.’
I need this. I need you.
He didn’t say the words but they beat so heavily in his brain he wondered if he had said them out loud.
Lara reached up and wound her arms around his neck, bringing her body into close contact with his. ‘Take me,’ she said, ‘I’m yours.’
And in that moment, Lara knew she was done for. She felt Ciro’s need as clearly as if it was hers. And all she wanted to do was assuage his pain. She loved him. She still loved him. Had always loved him. Would always love him.
Ciro waited a beat, as if making sure that Lara knew what she was doing, and then with studied deliberation he put his hand to her silky nightgown and ripped it from top to bottom. It fell apart, baring her to his gaze, and Lara found herself revelling in it. She felt the ferocity Ciro felt—it thrummed through her in waves of need, building and building.
Ciro’s dark gaze devoured her body and his hands moulded her every curve. His tongue laved her and with big hands he spread her legs so he could taste her there, making her cry out loud when he found and sucked on that little ball of nerves at the centre of her body.
She lifted her head, hardly able to see straight. She was sheened with sweat now too. ‘Ciro, I can’t wait...please.’
He reached for something and she saw him roll protection onto his length. For the first time Lara wished there could be nothing between them—but this marriage wasn’t about that. Procreation. It was just about...this... She hissed out as Ciro joined their bodies with one cataclysmic thrust.
He was remorseless, using every skill he had to prolong and delay the pinnacle. At one point he withdrew from Lara, and she let out a pitiful-sounding mewl, but he rolled onto his back and urged her to sit astride him, saying roughly, ‘I want to see you.’
Lara put her thighs either side of his hips and came up on her knees. She felt Ciro take himself in his hand, and then he guided her down onto his stiff length. She came down slowly, experimentally, savouring the exquisite sensation of Ciro feeding his length into her, and then he put his hands on her hips. ‘Take me, cara mia...all of me.’
Lara soon found her rhythm, her slick body moving up and down on his, excitement building at her core, making her move faster. The pinnacle was still elusive, though, and she was almost crying with frustration as Ciro clamped his hands on her hips and held her still so that he could pump up into her body.
He pulled her down, finding her breast and sucking her nipple into his mouth as the first wave of the crescendo broke Lara into a million pieces. It went on and on, like waves endlessly crashing against the shore, until she was limp and spent and hollowed out.
In the seconds afterwards it was as if an explosion had just occurred. Her ears were ringing and she wasn’t sure if she was still in one piece.
Her body and Ciro’s were still intimately joined. She lay on him, exhausted but satisfied, her mouth resting on the hectic pulse-point at the bottom of his neck, and that was all she remembered before she fell into a blissful dark oblivion.
* * *
When Lara woke she realised she was still in Ciro’s bed. Dawn was breaking outside. He lay beside her on his back, one arm flung over his head, the other on his chest. Her gaze drifted down over hard pecs to the dark curls where his masculinity was still gloriously impressive, even in sleep.
She knew she should leave because he would soon return her to her room. She wondered with a pang if he’d ever let a woman spend the whole night in his bed.
She was sitting up when Ciro’s hand caught her arm. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Lara’s heart thumped. ‘Back to my own bed.’
‘Don’t. Stay here.’
Lara looked at Ciro. His eyes were still closed. Maybe he wasn’t even awake, so wasn’t aware of what he was saying. She lay down carefully and he rolled towards her, trapping her with a leg over hers. She felt him stir against her. He opened his eyes.
A bubble of emotion rose up in her as she took
