Mediterranean Tycoons: Untamed & Unleashed: Picture of Innocence / Untamed Italian, Blackmailed Innocent / The Italian's Blackmailed Mistress. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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him, and gloried in the great shudders that racked Lorenzo’s huge frame. She was filled with a sense of oneness, a completion she had never imagined existed.
Lorenzo rolled off Lucy, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding and his head spinning. She was everything he had expected and much more. She was so responsive … He couldn’t remember losing control so completely ever before in his life. Of course he had been without a woman for a while, he rationalised, and, turning, he looped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her pliant body against his side.
‘Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?’ he asked. She was so small, so tight, that for a fleeting moment he had wondered if she was a virgin, but had quickly dismissed the thought. Lucy was obviously a woman of the world.
‘No—quite the reverse,’ she murmured softly, in a voice full of emotion at the wonder of him. She laid her hand on his broad chest. ‘I am better than okay—sublime.’ Rising up on one elbow, she leant over him and pressed a kiss on his chin—the highest she could reach. ‘You, Lorenzo, are nothing like the staid banker I thought.’ She looked up at him, her green eyes dazed with love, and gave him a languorous smile. ‘You’re brilliant, the most perfect lover in the … ‘ She was about to say world, but a wide yawn stopped her.
‘Glad to be of service,’ he said softly. Running his hand through the tumbled mass of her hair, he smoothed it from her face and dropped a gentle kiss on her brow before folding his arms around her.
Lucy buried her head on his chest and, safe in the cradle of his arm, fell asleep.
Lucy slowly opened her eyes and blinked as the early-morning rays of the sun shining through the window dazzled her. For a moment she was disorientated and, yawning, stretched her slender body. She felt aches in places she had never felt before and, dreamlike, the events of the night fluttered through her mind.
She glanced across the bed and saw the indentation in the pillow and realised it wasn’t a dream but reality. She had made love with Lorenzo Zanelli not once but twice … The first time had been incredible, and she’d thought nothing in the world could be better, but Lorenzo had proved her mistaken.
She had fallen asleep, exhausted, and it might have been minutes or an hour later when she’d awoke to find the bedside light on—just as a naked Lorenzo had strolled out of her en suite bathroom. What had followed had been a revelation in eroticism.
With a skill and an expertise she could only marvel at he had kissed and caressed her, encouraging her to do the same to him, and she had in the process discovered a sensual side of her nature she had never known she possessed. Finally Lorenzo had made long, slow love to her, almost driving her out of her mind as he’d taken her to the brink of paradise over and over again, until in the end she’d been begging for the release that only he could give her.
She looked around the room. No sign of his clothes—he was gone.
She closed her eyes and groaned, blushing at the thought of how wantonly she had behaved. Lorenzo probably thought she behaved that way with any man and considered her nothing more than a one-night stand. Mortified, she pulled the coverlet up over her naked body.
‘A little late for modesty,’ a deep, dark voice drawled, and she opened her eyes to see Lorenzo walking towards her.
‘I thought you had gone,’ she blurted, pulling herself up into a sitting position and tucking the coverlet under her arms while her eyes drank in the sight of him. He was dressed in the same grey suit, slightly crumpled now, and his white shirt was open at the neck, revealing the slightest glimpse of his dark chest hair. In his hand he held a mug of coffee.
‘As if I would, after what we shared and I hope we can share again,’ he prompted and, crossing to the side of the bed, deposited the mug of coffee on the bedside table. ‘For you—I thought you might need the caffeine.’ And he gave her a wicked smile that made her blush.
‘Thank you,’ she said, and picked up the mug and took a long drink of coffee. Lorenzo hadn’t walked out on her, and he obviously did not think of her as a one-night stand. He wanted to see her again—he had said so—and his words warmed her heart and squashed all her doubts. ‘You are right—I did need that.’ She grinned up at him. ‘But you should have woken me. You’re the guest—I should have made it for you.’
He sat down on the bed and, leaning forward, lightly brushed her lips with his. ‘No, it was my pleasure, Lucy. You are one very sexy lady. And you had a long day yesterday and an even longer night.’
His dark gaze met hers and she could not look away. The latent sensuality in his eyes was mesmerising her. A heated blush coloured her cheeks, and other parts of her were equally warm. ‘Even so … ‘
‘No, don’t argue. I thought you needed to sleep, but then I remembered you told me Sunday was one of your busiest days in the tourist season, and you open at ten. So I decided to leave before anyone turns up.’
‘What time is it?’ Lucy demanded, panicking. Her head had cleared of the sensual haze Lorenzo’s presence seemed to cause.
‘Nine—you have plenty of time.’ And, standing up, he looked down at her, his expression suddenly serious. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I had a look around. It is a nice place you have here—living accommodation upstairs and the gallery on the ground floor. But I couldn’t help noticing you only have one lock on the front door. Your security is very poor—especially for a woman living on her own.’
Lucy drained her mug of coffee and placed it on the table. There was nothing wrong with her security, but she was thrilled by the thought that he was concerned for her safety. It had to mean he cared. She glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with humour. ‘Lorenzo, you are beginning to sound like a stuffy banker again.’
‘If we had time I would show you I am not.’ He chuckled, and reached down to clasp her head between his strong hands and kiss her senseless. ‘Unfortunately we don’t have time.’ He straightened up. ‘But I’ll come back this evening and take you out to dinner. What time do you close?’
Breathless, Lucy said, ‘I close at four—but if we are going out.’
‘I’ll see you at seven,’ he husked and, planting a swift kiss on her head, he left.
Lucy watched him leave with a beaming smile on her face. Lorenzo didn’t just want sex. He was actually taking her on a date. That had to be a good sign.
THE doorbell rang, and Lucy, with one last glance at her reflection in the mirror, adjusted the spaghetti straps of the bright blue summer dress she wore, picked up her purse and ran downstairs to open the door.
‘You look fabulous,’ Lorenzo said, and Lucy simply looked.
She had never seen him wear anything but a perfectly tailored suit—the uniform of choice for a seriously powerful conservative male. But now, casually dressed in pale trousers and a white shirt, with a cashmere sweater draped across his wide shoulders, his black hair dishevelled by the breeze and with a smile of wickedly masculine appreciation curving his lips, he could have been a latter-day pirate. She tilted back her head to look into his eyes and saw banked-down desire in the dark depths. Her own widened in instant response.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Lucy, or we will never get to dinner,’ he said ruefully and, slipping an arm around her waist, he lowered his mouth down to hers as though he could not help himself.
At the first gentle brush of his lips Lucy’s parted eagerly beneath his and she melted against him, her knees going weak as he kissed her with a subtle promise of passion.
‘We have to go now,’ he said huskily, and, keeping a hand on her back, took her key and urged her out of the house, locking the door behind them.
Right at that moment Lucy realised she would quite happily go to the end of the earth with Lorenzo,