Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal. Catherine Spencer
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simply enjoy this moment.” He stabbed a finger at the Jeep’s windshield. “Look out there, and tell me, did you ever see such a night?”
In truth, it was spectacular. Although the grounds of the villa were lushly planted with all kinds of tropical trees and flowers, there was little vegetation native to the island. By the light of the moon, hanging full and round and yellow just above the horizon, the bare landscape assumed an austere beauty that was almost ghostly.
Paolo leaned both arms on the steering wheel and gazed across the moon-dappled water. “Tell me about your life over the last nine years, Caroline. My mother has mentioned how very excited you were about attending Smith College, and that you spoke of it often, when you were here for the wedding. What made you decide against it?”
You did, she could have told him. Because of you, all my dreams turned into nightmares…
“You might as well take it off,” he’d said, lifting one corner of her mangled maid-of-honor gown. “It’s past saving.”
An unforgiving sliver of moonlight confirmed his assessment. The full, filmy skirt sagging disastrously where it had torn away from the bodice, and the smear of blood near the hem, indicated she’d done a lot more than take an innocent stroll in the garden.
“And wear what?” she cried, appalled at the thought of having to account for how she’d managed to ruin a dress that had cost a small fortune, never mind everything else she’d done.
“Nothing, of course. We’re going swimming.”
“In the nude?” More rattled by the minute, she stared at him. “Someone might see us!”
“I doubt that will happen, but what if it did?” he returned carelessly. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed.”
No, he wouldn’t. The way he peeled off the rest of his clothes until he stood before her as naked as the day he was born, was proof enough of that. And the way she stared, as if she couldn’t get her fill of him, was nothing short of shameful.
“Well? Are you coming with me?” he said, standing straight and tall as a Roman god. “Or would you prefer to go back to the reception, looking like something washed up on the beach by the tide?”
Heaven help her, but at the sight of him, so beautifully male, so gloriously virile, that same prickling, giddy excitement swept over her afresh, and all she wanted was to go with him again down the illicit path of sexual discovery. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about looking her mother in the eye, about offering explanations for behavior that was inexcusable. Tonight was made for first love.
Her white kid shoes, satin panties and fine lace stockings already lay heaped on the cabana floor. Before she lost her nerve, she took off everything else and, worshiping him with her eyes, murmured breathlessly, “Of course I’m coming with you.”
Watching her strip had aroused him. Touching himself, he fastened his gaze on her small, high breasts, then let it dip to the shadow at the juncture of her thighs. And again, that wicked rush of heat left her damp and molten, and aching for something just beyond her frame of experience.
He stepped close enough for his penis to nudge gently against her. “That’s more like it,” he murmured huskily, rolling her nipple gently between his forefinger and thumb.
A quiver puckered her flesh and brought it to a vibrant, electric life that left her entire body yearning ever more desperately for that elusive “something.” She would have collapsed on the wooden floor and dragged him down on top of her, if he’d let her. But he backed away, teasing her with a smile, and catching her hand in his, ran with her across the sand to the water.
Once there, he dragged her, laughing, into the waves until they swirled around his chest. Only then did he pull her close and kiss her, tangling his fingers in her hair and driving his tongue deep into her mouth. Exhilarated, she returned his advances. His teeth were smooth, his lips warm, his tongue bold and hard, just like his erection.
She wound her arms around his neck, let her legs float up to encircle his waist. He slid his hands beneath her bottom, and with one finger, found the tiny bud of flesh hidden between the plump folds at her center.
It sprang to life like a wild thing, urgent and hungry for a satisfaction only he knew how to provide. Another slick, quick stroke from his clever finger, a little pressure in just the right place, and a lightning bolt shot through her.
“Oh…!” she gasped, and buried her face against his neck.
“Si, bella…now it begins for you,” he murmured, and touched her again, more insistently.
This time, a hidden coil sprang free in a backlash of sensation so wicked that she’d have leaped clear of the water had he not locked his arm around her so firmly. A helpless moan, borne deep within her, escaped her lips and hung in the still night.
“E ancora,” he urged, tormenting her a third time…a fourth…a fifth, until, at last, her body responded with the elemental might of a sleeping volcano awakened at last.
She tensed, clenched her eyes shut, and sucked in a drowning, desperate breath as a wave of tremors, each more powerful than the last, gave way to an onslaught of earthshattering spasms. Then the world as she’d known it exploded on her soft, high scream.
“I didn’t know!” she breathed, long minutes later. “I had no idea…!”
“You do now, Caroline,” he said, droplets of water running over his shoulders, and the heat of passion in his voice. “So let us proceed to the next phase of your education.”
There was no question of returning to the villa after that. They didn’t even make it back to the cabana. Right there, under the stars, with the warm Adriatic curling around them, they came together in a wild tangling of limbs and lips; of hands and tongues and fractured breathing.
To have him fill her completely, and know that they were joined not just in body, but in mind and heart as well, was surely the next best thing to heaven. “Oh, Paolo!” she whispered when, panting and depleted, they staggered ashore together. “You’re a wonderful teacher!”
“And you, an exemplary student.”
She turned her head and looked back along the beach. The faint sound of music drifted on the air. Just beyond the limestone outcropping, a rocket shot into the sky and cascaded back to earth in a free-fall of brilliant stars.
Fireworks, she realized. The wedding celebrations continued unabated, not in the least diminished by the absence of the best man and maid-of-honor. “I don’t want to go back there tonight,” she told him.
“Nor shall you,” he replied. “There are showers in the cabana, and a supply of towels. We will stay there until the villa is asleep, and return before it awakes at dawn.”
They bathed together, a playful, happy experience, laced with the promise of greater intimacy to come. Later, when she lay on a bed of thick white towels, he parted her legs and put his mouth on her. Stroked her with his tongue. And after her initial shocked reaction, she reveled in the forbidden pleasure he gave, awash in wonder at the sensuality she’d never guessed was hers to enjoy.
If their first time together had been embarrassing, and the second amazing, the third offered an unequivocal taste of sheer paradise, such that, when he collapsed on top of her, spent, she couldn’t help herself. “I love you, Paolo!” she gasped brokenly. They were the only words to describe the depth of emotion rolling over her.
For the longest time, he didn’t reply. Seemed unable to look at her, even. When he finally spoke, it was to say with calculated indifference, “It grows late, tesoro, and you are tired. We should sleep for a few hours. Regain our strength for yet another pleasurable encounter.”
When he awoke, though, just as the sun crept over the sea, Paolo was no more interested in making love to her than he was to remain cooped up on the island a second longer than he had to.
“We had fun, yes?” he said,