endings leapt, making every inch of her deliciously sensitive, so that even the hand he smoothed across the swell of her bottom was a source of pleasure and her legs shook beneath her.
His broad chest rising and falling and his breathing fractured, Cesario gazed down at her rapt face, his dark eyes smouldering hot gold. ‘I won’t take anything for granted with you—yes or no?’
And Jess liked that he had still thought to ask the question. He was tugging her indoors out of the fading light and she blinked, long lashes sliding almost languorously up on her light grey eyes and there was no hint of reluctance there. Desire had dug unshakeable little talon claws into her, vanquishing the fear and uncertainty. Her body wanted to connect with his again and strain towards that distant source of satisfaction she sensed.
‘Yes,’ she told him shakily.
‘Sì…your very first word in Italian, moglie mia.’
‘Sì…but tell me what you are calling me,’ she demanded as he drew her back to the bed.
‘My wife,’ Cesario translated with assurance, ‘which you are.’
For some unfathomable reason, that was the first time Jess felt truly married. Those words achieved what the pomp and ceremony of the wedding day had not. She smiled, allowing herself to enjoy the warm hum of arousal in her pelvis. She refused to think about her scars, telling herself instead that most people had things they disliked about their bodies and that she was no different. So, she stood quiescent while he removed the linen top to reveal a pretty white and blue bra and then she moved forward and began without hesitation to unbutton his shirt. Her hands grew a little less dexterous as the edges of the shirt fell open to reveal the hair-roughened bronzed flesh beneath.
In acknowledgement of that wave of shyness, Cesario tipped up her chin and crushed her raspberry-tinted mouth below his again, revelling in the sweet strength of her response and the way her fingers dug hard into his muscular shoulders. He kissed her and then he kissed her again, skilfully tasting the voluptuous curve of her lips and the honeyed secret corners of her tender mouth and still he wanted more, wanted everything she had to give with a raw edge to his hunger that was refreshingly new to him. She trembled against him, enslaved by the sexual probe of his tongue darting inside her mouth and the urgent masculine erection she recognised when his hand closed to her hip to crush her against his big powerful frame. Her whole body rejoiced in the effect she was having on him.
As he released the zip on her skirt and it pooled round her feet Cesario lifted her clear of its folds and brought her down on the big wide divan bed crisply dressed in linen. Before he removed his hand he brushed the roughness of the skin on her back and he glanced down in surprise at the long pale scar there.
‘Did you have surgery there?’ he asked.
Jess froze and angled away from him to present him with a defensive spine, only now his attention was fully engaged and he saw the furrow of scar tissue marring the pale skin and he touched it with his finger.
‘Per l’amor di Dio,’ Cesario exclaimed in surprise. ‘What the hell happened to you?’
Jess flipped back to him and lay flat. She pressed two fingers to the final scar on her midriff and said fiercely, ‘You missed one!’
Cesario focused on that final pale line cruelly bisecting her creamy skin. ‘Those must surely have been life-threatening injuries?’ he breathed starkly, black brows pleated as he studied her with questioning dark eyes that for once had no gleam of mockery.
‘A…knife attack while I was at university. I almost bled to death,’ Jess responded jerkily, and then she folded her lips closed and stared at him and in the depths of her pale glittering eyes he saw her fear that he would persist in his questions.
Cesario contrived to shrug a broad shoulder as though he saw knife wounds on his lovers every day and he half turned away to remove his shirt and kick off his shoes. His expressive gaze was veiled to conceal the true strength of his reaction from her because he was enraged by the image of her being slashed by a knife and helpless. She was so small, so feminine, but maybe those traits had made her a more appealing target, he reflected with grim cynicism.
‘Sorry, I just don’t like to talk about it,’ she said unevenly, one hand curling into a fist on the sheet as if even saying that much was a major challenge. ‘Maybe I should’ve warned you—I know my scars are ugly…’
Having shed his trousers, Cesario came down on the bed beside her and bent his tousled dark head to the scar on her abdomen. Her heart hammered with tension, butterflies fluttering loose in her tummy as he pressed his mouth gently to the slightly puckered skin. ‘Not ugly, just part of you. I’m sorry you suffered an experience like that and I certainly didn’t need warning, piccola mia.’
He was rarely at a loss for the right thing to say, she thought enviously, only half convinced by his words and gesture that he was not repelled, but the worst of her tension had evaporated. The ferocious tightness of her muscles eased and she rested her head back on the pillow and breathed again. ‘You see, I’m really not a perfect doll.’
‘You’re talking to a guy who wanted you even when you sported a dirty waxed jacket, muddy boots and a team of misfit dogs,’ Cesario reminded her lazily.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t have the dogs booked into the local beauty spa for some grooming,’ Jess teased, balancing on her elbows to stretch up and tilt her parted lips in invitation as though a piece of elastic were pulling her to him to rediscover that warm, sexy mouth of his for herself again.
And that next kiss ravished and seduced and left her dizzy and breathless, wondering where he had been all her life, for no other man had ever made her feel that way. She was already finding out that Cesario was not the guy she had believed him to be. He had much greater depth than she had ever been willing to concede when she reflected on their often spiky exchanges in the stable yard. She had repeatedly failed to look beyond the rich sophisticated façade to the male beneath that glossy patina of worldly success.
Her bra melted away during the kissing and, while he palmed the small pert mound of her breasts, he stroked her pointed nipples and captured them between his lips and sucked until the tingling buds were hard and swollen. Until then, she had not known that she might be so sensitive there. He caressed her until she was gasping for breath and a pool of liquid warmth had infiltrated her pelvis.
‘I want this to be really special for you,’ Cesario husked. ‘But it might hurt.’
‘So, get it over with,’ she urged apprehensively.
Cesario gave her a wicked grin that squeezed her heart inside her chest. ‘Shame on you—that’s the wrong attitude to take. A good lover never rushes a woman.’
He tugged up her legs and skimmed off the white and blue matching knickers, sliding a hand between her slender thighs to find the engorged bud below the black curls on her mound. He teased her with the ball of his thumb and her hips rose off the bed in sensual shock at the sweet erotic surge of arousal. It was almost too intense for her to bear and she was hugely conscious of the surge of moisture there.
Cesario pulled back from her and she studied him with sensually lowered eyelids, taking in the hard sleek contours of his broad chest and the muscles flexing across his flat stomach as he leant back and removed his boxers. He was magnificent and more than a little daunting to inexperienced eyes. He pulled her back to him and studied her with a hint of amusement in his beautiful eyes. ‘I promise to be gentle,’ he intoned, carrying her hand
