Latin Lovers. Helen Bianchin
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her head.
‘Two.’
The little girls beamed, and both boys bent their heads in sulky disagreement.
Maybe it would have been wiser not to give the children a rehearsal at all, and simply tell them what to do on the day and hope they’d concentrate so hard there wouldn’t be the opportunity for error.
Celestial assistance was obviously going to be needed, Aysha mused as she listened to the priest’s instructions.
An hour later they were all seated at a long table in a restaurant nominated as children-friendly. The food was good, the wine did much to relax fraught nerves, and Aysha enjoyed the informality of it all as she leaned back against Carlo’s supporting arm.
‘Tired?’
She lifted her face to his, and her eyes sparkled with latent intimacy. ‘It’s been a long day.’
He leaned in close and brushed his lips to her temple. ‘You can sleep in in the morning.’
‘Generous of you. But I need to be home early to help Teresa with preparations for the bridal shower. Remember?’
It was almost eleven when everyone began to make a move, and a further half-hour before Aysha and Carlo were able to leave, for the bridesmaids lingered and Teresa had last-minute instructions to impart.
The witching hour of midnight struck as she preceded Carlo into the penthouse, and she slipped off her shoes, took the clip from her hair and shook it loose, then she padded through to the kitchen.
‘Coffee?’
Aysha sensed rather than heard him move behind her, and she murmured her approval as his hands kneaded tense shoulder muscles.
‘Good?’
Oh, yes. So good, she was prepared to beg him to continue. ‘Please. Don’t stop.’ It was bliss, almost heaven, and she closed her eyes as his fingers worked a magic all on their own.
‘Any ideas for tomorrow night?’
She heard the lazy quality in his voice and smiled. ‘You mean we have a free evening?’
‘I can book dinner.’
‘Don’t,’ she said at once. ‘I’ll pick up something.’
‘I could do this much better if you lay down on the bed.’
Her senses were heightened, and her pulse began to quicken. ‘That might prove dangerous.’
‘Eventually,’ Carlo agreed lazily. ‘But there are advantages to a full body massage.’
Aysha’s blood pressure moved up a notch. ‘Are you seducing me?’
His soft laughter sounded deep and husky close to her ear. ‘Am I succeeding?’
‘I’ll let you know,’ she promised with wicked intent. ‘In about an hour from now.’
‘An hour?’
‘The quality of the massage will govern your reward,’ Aysha informed him solemnly, and he laughed as he swept her into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom.
To lay prone on towels as Carlo slowly smoothed aromatic oil over every inch of her body was sensual torture of the sweetest kind.
Whatever had made her think she’d last an hour? After thirty minutes the pleasure was so intense, it was all she could do not to roll onto her back and beg him to take her.
‘I think,’ she said between gritted teeth, ‘that’s enough.’
His fingertips smoothed up her thighs and lingered a hair’s breadth away from the apex, then shaped each buttock before settling at her waist.
‘You said an hour,’ Carlo reminded her, and gently rolled her onto her back.
Aysha looked at him from beneath long-fringed lashes. ‘I’ll make you pay,’ she promised as liquid heat spilled through her veins.
He leaned down and took her mouth in a brief hard kiss. ‘I’m counting on it.’
The sweet sorcery of his touch nearly sent her mad, and afterwards it was she who drove him to the brink, aware of those dark eyes watching her with an almost predatory alertness that gradually shifted and changed as she tried to break his control.
Desire, raw and primitive, tore through her body, and she felt bare, exposed, as her own fragile control shredded into a thousand pieces.
Aysha had no recollection of the tears that slowly spilled down each cheek until Carlo cupped her face and erased them with a single movement of his thumb.
His lips brushed hers, gently, back and forth, then angled in sensual possession.
Afterwards he simply held her until her breathing slowed and steadied into a regular beat, then he gently eased her to lie beside him and held her close through the night.
She barely stirred when he rose at eight, and he showered in a spare bathroom, then dressed and made breakfast.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee stirred Aysha’s senses, and she fought through the final mists of sleep into wakefulness.
‘The tousled look suits you,’ Carlo teased as he placed the tray down onto the bedside pedestal. Her cheeks were softly flushed, her eyes slumberous, the dilated pupils making them seem too large for her face.
‘Hi.’ She made an attempt to pull the sheet a little higher, and incurred his husky laughter.
‘Your modesty is adorable, cara.’
‘Breakfast in bed,’ she murmured appreciatively. ‘You’ve excelled yourself.’
He lowered his head and bestowed an open-mouthed kiss to the edge of her throat, teased the tender skin with his teeth, then trailed a path to the gentle swell of her breast.
‘I aim to please.’
Oh, yes, he did that. She retained a very vivid memory of just how well he’d managed to please her. Not that it had been entirely one-sided... She’d managed to take him further towards the edge than before. One of these days... nights, she amended, she planned to tip him over and watch him free-fall.
‘Naturally, your mind is more on food than me at this point, hmm?’
Go much lower, and I won’t get to the food. ‘Of course,’ she offered demurely. ‘I’m going to need stamina to make it through the day.’
‘The bridal shower,’ he mused. His eyes met hers, and she regarded him solemnly.
‘Teresa wants the occasion to be memorable.’
Carlo sank down onto the bed. ‘There’s orange juice, and caffeine to kick-start the day.’
Together with toast, croissants, fruit preserve, cheese, wafer-thin slices of salami and prosciutto. A veritable feast.
Aysha slid up in the bed, paying careful attention to keep the sheet tucked beneath her arms, and took the glass of juice from Carlo’s extended hand. Next came the coffee, then a croissant with preserve, followed by a piece of toast folded in half over a layer of cheese and prosciutto.
‘More coffee?’
She hesitated, checked the time, then shook her head. ‘I said I’d be home around nine.’
Carlo stood to his feet and collected the tray. ‘I’ll take this downstairs.’
Ten minutes later she had showered, dressed and was ready to face the day. Light blue jeans sheathed her slim legs, hugged her hips, and she wore a fitted top that accentuated the delicate curve of her breasts.
She skirted the servery, reached up and planted a light kiss against the edge of his jaw. ‘Thanks for breakfast.’
He caught her close and slanted his mouth over hers with a