Lazz's Contract Marriage (The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series Book 4) Page 11

“I—I don’t remember.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lazz. I’m a demonstrative person. I hug. I kiss. I touch people. It’s who I am. Who I’ve always been.”

  “Not with Talbot. At least, not for the next nine weeks.”

  She looked at him then. He didn’t want to notice how bone-white she’d gone. Or how her eyes grew black with pain. Clearly, Talbot meant something to her. Who would she have married, if not for that damnable contract? Who would have been her first lover? The mere idea of Talbot putting his hands on Ariana shredded every ounce of Lazz’s self-control.

  He’d always prided himself on his ability to reason his way through any situation. Even with Caitlyn, after that one outburst in Marco’s office, he’d been able to consider the situation from all angles and come to terms with it. He had a knack for compartmentalizing. He could logic his way through even the most emotional issues. He had an innate talent for tallying things up in tidy rows and columns. It took little-to-no effort to draw a line separating X from Y, a line that didn’t allow any Zs to slip from one side to the other. But with Ariana . . .

  He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. Damn it to hell. Ariana sent his Zs all over the place.

  “And if I refuse to stay away from Aaron?” she finally asked. “What will you do then?”

  Aaron. Lazz’s tidy columns melted right along with his temper. “Then I will personally take Brimstone and consign it to the deep blue. I won’t be made a fool of by my wife. I won’t allow the woman I married to sleep with another man while my ring is on her finger.” He fought his way past a flood of emotions, unwanted emotions that ripped away every shred of civilized behavior. “I can’t handle any more deception, Ariana. I won’t tolerate any more secrets. This is the end.”

  Pain turned to temper, sparking a fire in Ariana’s dark eyes. “Oh, please. You have as many secrets as I do. All people have them.” The Italian lilt grew heavy in her voice. She approached—stalked—toward him, her anger growing with every step. “You made this ‘no secrets’ business a part of our marriage before we ever met. You demanded I confide in you before I had any idea what sort of man you are. How did I know I could trust you? Why should I open myself to such a risk?”

  “Because those are the rules I play by.”

  “Rules? Rules! I’m talking about our marriage and you’re spouting rules at me?” She flung her arms wide. “You expect me to walk into this contract marriage and strip myself bare for you. Have you done as much for me? I think not.”

  His own temper made a swift return, no matter how hard he attempted to tamp it down. “What secrets have I kept from you? I’ve answered every question you’ve asked, been as honest as I can.”

  “You kept The Inferno a secret.” She cut off his incipient reply with a sweep of her hand, shaking her palm in his face. “And you lie to yourself, as well as to me, when you claim it doesn’t exist. One touch from you and I’m ruined for any other man.”

  “Ruined?” He couldn’t disguise how the word appealed to him. Apparently, it didn’t appeal to his wife quite as much.

  Tears vied with temper. “Yes, ruined! But did you bother to warn me of that possibility? No!”

  “The Inferno is the lie, not my denial of it.”

  “You think so?” She closed the distance between them and interlaced her fingers with his, sliding into the burn of palm against palm. Her hand tightened around his, deepening the connection. “Deny this, husband of mine. Deny your Dante heritage and whatever created this bond. Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other.”

  The rush hit him, stronger than ever before. Like it? What a watered-down word to describe how he felt. It wasn’t just physical anymore. If that were the only connection between them, he wouldn’t have been so furious when he’d discovered Ariana dining with another man.

  “It’s lust.” Truth became jumbled with self-preservation. “Desire.”

  Her fingers trembled within his. “You repeat those words like a mantra, when the truth is you’re so determined to be logical that you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose. You are afraid of losing control. You are afraid your heart will overrule your head. You are afraid to give yourself fully to another person.”

  “I’m not afraid,” he denied. And he wasn’t. He simply knew what he wanted in his life and, more importantly, what he didn’t. “I’m pragmatic. Being pragmatic means I refuse to allow myself to be controlled by my emotions.”

  A hint of a smile curved a path across the lushness of her mouth. “So I noticed at lunch.”

  “I believe that proves my point,” he bit back. “Don’t you get it? I come from a passionate family, all of whom allow their emotions to overrule their common sense. And how has it benefited them?”

  “The last time I looked, they all had strong, happy marriages.”

  “I’m sure my parents’ marriage was the same when it first started. But it doesn’t last. And when it goes wrong, it goes very wrong. The minute you put your well-being in someone else’s hands, you’re going to get hurt.”

  Anger eased into compassion. “Life hurts, Lazz. You can’t protect yourself from the bruises it doles out. Your relationship with Caitlyn is a perfect example of that. But you can allow someone else in, someone who’s willing to share all of that with you. The pain. The joy. The sorrow. The laughter. Can’t you open the door a crack? Allow nature to take its course and see where we end up in a few months?”

  “If we allow nature to take its course one more time, in a few months our twosome risks becoming a threesome,” he said drily.

  Soft color streaked across Ariana’s cheekbones. “What’s happened between us wasn’t supposed to happen at all.”

  “It was inevitable,” he said gently. “The only one who didn’t know it was you.”

  “Lazz—”

  “Shall I prove it to you?”

  He didn’t give her time to respond. He hooked his fingers around the lapels of her suit jacket and tugged. She didn’t resist. Couldn’t resist. Their helpless desire went beyond the ability to control She came into his arms, fitting herself to him, a lock to a key. She’d asked him to let go of his control, to allow nature to take its course. He didn’t have any other choice. Common sense vanished whenever he touched Ariana.

  He surrendered to temptation, his hands easing into her hair and destroying the sophisticated little twist. Her irresistible siren’s call grew more powerful with each passing day. Did she even realize it emanated from her in the way she walked, in the way she looked at him, in every word she spoke? That despite what either of them claimed, their hunger for one another overrode every thought and intent?

  He fell into the kiss. Fell into her warmth and the generosity of her welcome. He never understood how she could open so utterly to him. And yet, she had from the very beginning. How did she allow herself such intense vulnerability when it was the one thing he most wanted to avoid? She gave so unstintingly that he couldn’t just take. More than anything, some quality within drove him to give back.

  In that instant, the quality of their lovemaking changed. Slowed. Became more than a physical expression. One by one, he released the buttons of her suit jacket. It parted, revealing a scrap of black lace that cupped her breasts, the play of ebony against cream providing a visual feast.

  “It’s going to happen again, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Without question.”

  A smile sweetened her expression, creating a fascinating dichotomy to her lush earthiness. She was a woman of endless facets and contradictions. An innocent sophisticate. A practical dreamer. An open mystery. And he wanted to know and explore each and every one of those facets.

  He unclipped the front fastening of her bra and palmed the silken weight of her breasts. Her breath escaped in a low moan, and her head fell back. He swept his thumbs across the tips of her breasts, watching as desire caused them to flush and tighten. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anything more arousing. Lowering his head, h
e dragged his teeth across her nipple, then soothed it with his tongue.

  Italian erupted from her, a strangled stream of plea and demand. He’d planned to keep the pace slow and leisurely. But she didn’t give him the option. She tore at his shirt and tie, stripping them away with impressive speed.

  “Are we doing this here?” she demanded. “Now?”

  He refused to make love to her again without proper protection. “No. We’re doing this in my bedroom.”

  “Fine. The bedroom it is.”

  After kicking off her heels, she unzipped her narrow skirt and shimmied out of it. She straightened, standing before him in a black thong, garter belt and stockings. He must have groaned because laughter competed with the passion in her gaze. She threw herself against him and practically leaped into his arms. Her head nestled against his shoulder and waves of heavy, dark hair spilled across his arm in a silken curtain.

  “Take me to your bedroom,” she ordered. “Now.”

  He gathered her close. “If not sooner.”

  It was difficult enough to walk with the fullness of her breasts pressing against his chest. But her thighs—round, sleek thighs—wriggled within his grasp while her hip and the curve of her backside flirted with his groin. He had no idea how he made it the short distance from the living room to the bedroom without dumping them both on the floor and losing himself in her. Every step turned into an exercise in sheer torture.

  Lazz kicked the door closed behind him, enclosing them in dusky solitude. Muted sunshine filtered through the blinds, chasing them into the bed. He dropped Ariana to the mattress, not bothering to pull back the comforter. It was almost painful to strip off his trousers and shorts. At the last minute he remembered protection.

  He yanked open the bedside drawer, pulling it free of its mooring and dumping it onto the floor. He swore in frustration and then swore again when Ariana slipped off the bed. “Wait,” he said. “Let me—”

  “I’ve got it.”

  She gathered up one of the foil squares and fumbled slightly with the wrapper, betraying her inexperience and rousing a fierce wave of tenderness in him. Finally, she ripped it open and removed the circle of latex. There was a hint of curiosity in her expression while she examined it, before turning her attention to him.

  She shook her head in dismay. “This will never fit. Have you nothing larger?”

  If his need weren’t so dire, he’d have laughed. “It fits,” he said. “Give it to me. I’ll do it.”

  “No, no. Let me.” She fit the latex over him and cautiously rolled it down his length. She caught her lip between her teeth. “Am I hurting you?”

  “You’re killing me.”

  She froze. “Should I stop?”

  “No. Not unless you want to drive me straight out of my mind.”

  A tiny laugh slipped free. She struggled to contain it, without success. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s . . .” She waved a hand as though to summon the right words. “Look at us. We have no clothes. All we want is to make love. We are desperate.”

  “Very desperate.”

  “If we don’t make love right this instant, you have assured me we will either expire or go insane.”

  “Any second now it’ll be over,” he confirmed.

  A sweet, feminine chuckle broke free. “And I haven’t a clue what I’m doing.”

  He smiled. “You’re making me laugh at a totally inappropriate time. That’s never happened before.”

  “To me, neither.” His gorgeous, sophisticated wife grinned like a street urchin. “It is funny, yes?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Give me a minute and I’ll be serious again.”

  “I don’t want you serious.” And he didn’t. “Just be yourself.”

  For some reason that caused her laughter to fade. He’d already bared her, physically. Now he watched as she bared her emotions, betraying the gentle want, the soft hunger. The need for him, and him alone.

  Slowly, her hands moved again, stroking him into hardness. When she finished, she bent slightly to remove her garter and stockings, and her hair swirled forward across her shoulders. The sheer grace and sensuality of her impacted like a blow. Unable to help himself he caressed the vulnerable spot at the nape of her neck and followed the pure silken line from there down to the base of her spine.

  She shuddered beneath his touch and whispered something in Italian. Whether plea or confession, he didn’t quite catch, but when she straightened, the last of her clothing formed a dark pool at their feet. Together they fell back onto the comforter, and he mated their bodies.

  They moved slowly at first, taking those first few moments to reacquaint themselves with the fit and feel and flow of one into the other. “Oh, yes. Like that,” she murmured.

  He gave to her. And then he gave more, taking the time to unlock the subtle secrets of her body, the movements and caresses that were unique to her and caused her to soar to places she’d never been before. The burn came. The flame connecting them exploded with heat and light and desperate need as it consumed them.

  Lazz felt her quiver beneath him, teetering for an endless second on that pinnacle between climb and tumble. Her breath caught, held, and then burst from her lungs as she shot up and over into a helpless free fall. He didn’t hesitate. He leapt with her.

  And he lost himself in her. In this woman. In his wife. Within that intense release came a shattering, and all he could do was surrender to it.

  Chapter Eight

  From: Bambolina@fornitore.it

  Date: August 07 11:22 CEST

  To: Lazzaro_Dante@DantesJewelry.com

  Subject: Marriage Contract, Premarital Conditions . . . me again!

  I just thought of one more thing. I hope you do not mind. And I hope your apartment is big enough!

  Counter-Condition #3: I require a room for my private use, one you promise not to enter.

  Ciao!

  Ariana

  From: Lazzaro_Dante@DantesJewelry.com

  Date: August 07 09:04 PDST

  To: Bambolina@fornitore.it

  Subject: Re: Marriage Contract, Premarital Conditions . . . me again!

  What the hell is this about? I’m serious. What do you need a private room for? I’m going to call. We need to discuss this.

  L.

  Ariana regarded her grandmother with a hint of exasperation. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

  “And I can’t thank you enough, especially considering you’re still practically on your honeymoon.” Penelope said.

  “One month tomorrow,” Ariana confirmed before shaking her head. “What in the world made you suggest I attend this benefit in your place? Mrs. Pennywinkle has never made a public appearance before. Nor has she ever had a representative.”

  “They caught me at a weak moment,” Penelope confessed. “It’s for children who are burn victims. Once they promised no media attendance, how could I refuse?”

  Ariana softened. “You couldn’t, of course. Are you certain you don’t want to go yourself?”

  One look at her grandmother’s face answered that question. “I can’t run the risk I’ll have a panic attack and frighten the children.”

  “Never mind,” Ariana soothed. “I’m happy to stand in for you.”

  “Thank you. I was hoping you’d say that.” A hint of mischief glittered in Penelope’s eyes. “I also had an ulterior motive for my request.”

  “You thought it would convince me to do everything in my power to become the new Mrs. Pennywinkle?”

  “I can’t fool you, can I? I even had your Nancy doll flown in for the occasion. I thought it would make a nice prop. You have no idea how much I’ve longed to attend a charity event—” Penelope broke off with a sigh.

  “Don’t.” Ariana stooped beside Penelope and enfolded her in a tight embrace. “You’ve done so much for the family. Worked so hard. I just wish you’d let me explain to Lazz. It’s been weeks since he saw me with Aaron. Even though he doesn’t mention it, it
’s still there between us.”

  Penelope shook her head, adamant. “The Dantes are under constant media scrutiny. I know they’d agree to keep my secret.” She gazed intently at her granddaughter. “But secrets have a way of getting out.”

  Ariana flinched. She sincerely hoped not. At least, she hoped certain secrets didn’t get out. “He’s my husband, Gran,” she insisted gently. “He has a right to know.”

  “Maybe once Aaron Talbot agrees to take you on as the new Mrs. Pennywinkle, we could reconsider.”

  “If Aaron agrees,” Ariana corrected. “After our luncheon meeting, I’d have to say it’s going to be difficult to convince him. He’s determined to keep Mrs. Pennywinkle sacrosanct.”

  Penelope dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “He’ll give in. He won’t have any choice if he wants more Mrs. Pennywinkle books. And once you’re the new Mrs. P, the media attention will be on you. They might have a passing interest in me, but once I’m back with Carolina and Vittorio on the Romano estate, they won’t have the opportunity to approach me unless I choose to let them.” Pain and fear added definition to her wrinkles. “It won’t be like it was after the accident.”

  “No, it won’t.” Ariana kissed her grandmother’s cheek and straightened. “I’d better go or I’ll be late.”

  “Will you come back to the hotel room afterward and tell me how it went?” Penelope asked.

  Ariana shook her head. “I’ll have to fill you in tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet Lazz for dinner, and that won’t give me much time to get back to the apartment before he returns from work.”

  “Be careful with your doll. I’d be crushed if it were lost or damaged. She’s the very first one ever made.”

  Ariana smiled indulgently. “I remember. I wouldn’t dream of allowing any harm to come to her.”

  Penelope nodded in relief. “Try and have fun.”

  That would be a stretch. Still, she would do everything in her power to make it a special occasion for the children. Giving her grandmother a final hug and kiss, Ariana picked up the Nancy doll Penelope had given her as a child and left the hotel room.