The Last Di Sione Claims His Prize Page 13

  “Yes. Is this your room? I should have investigated further, but I…” Didn’t want to. She couldn’t very well finish that sentence.

  Couldn’t tell him that a part of her had been hoping this was his room. That she would encounter him later.

  Shortsighted. As well as a little bit creepy. Shortsighted mainly because she was still wearing her sweats, which was hardly the official uniform of seduction.

  “You were asleep,” he said.

  “Yes. I fell asleep waiting for you to come back. I thought maybe you were dead.” Her other concern hit her, cold and hard. Obviously he wasn’t dead, but he could very well still have been having sex. “Were you with a woman?”

  He let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the edge of the bed. “No. Would it have bothered you if I was?”

  “That’s a stupid question. Of course it would have.” She saw no point in playing coy. She was sleepy, and cranky, and a little bit gritty behind the eyelids. She was in no state to play coy.

  He shifted his position, lying down beside her, and her breath caught. There was still a healthy expanse of mattress between them, but still. “It was my brother. My half brother, Nate. I told you about Nate.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “He found the ring. It has an inscription on it. B.A.”

  “Bartolo,” she said.

  “Probably. They are the same initials on the painting, Gabriella. They were his. She was his, just like your grandmother said. But it’s more than that. I know that my grandfather had to start over when he came to America. And I wonder just how completely the new beginning was.”

  “You think he was my grandmother’s lover.” His suspicions mirrored her own. It made sense. There just didn’t seem to be another way someone could possess all of the same objects that appeared in the painting. More than that, it was her grandmother’s reaction to everything. The fact that she had seemed to want Giovanni to have the painting. “She knows,” Gabriella said. “She figured it out before we did.”

  She thought back to the way that her grandmother had looked at Alex when he’d first come into the room at the estate in Aceena. “I bet you look like him,” she said. She couldn’t see him now; she was staring through the darkness, looking in his direction, barely able to make out his silhouette against the dark bedspread. “I mean, like he did.”

  “I guess that’s why she let me take it in the end.”

  “They loved each other. They couldn’t be together because she had to marry royalty. My grandfather.” Suddenly, her throat felt tight, painful. “The artist… Bartolo…he did love her very much. I know. You can see it. It must’ve killed him to part with those things.”

  “Not quite. He’s still very much alive. For now. It wounded him to part with them. I wonder if he thinks seeing them will return some of his strengths.”

  “It isn’t the objects he needs,” she said, her voice wistful.

  “You are right.” He reached across the distance between them, drawing his fingertips slowly across her cheek. She closed her eyes, tried to fight the tears that were welling in them.

  “It is a tragedy, Alex. To think of that. Just think of how much they loved each other all those years…”

  She could see her life suddenly, stretching before her. Bleak and lonely. She realized that she could never marry a man who didn’t incite fantasy in her. Down to her very core. That she couldn’t possibly ever marry a man who understood art the way she did, or appreciated books, or had a library. That she couldn’t marry a man who was closer to her age and experience or didn’t think of her as an owl. Because that man wouldn’t be Alex.

  It was Alex for her. Now and always. Forever.

  She realized now that maybe she had not been protecting herself so much as waiting for this. For him. For the kind of desire that reached down deep and took over your soul. For the kind of desire that went well beyond common sense. The kind that didn’t care if heartbreak lay down the road. Even if it was a short distance away.

  She thought of the way her grandmother had spoken of Giovanni—because she was certain that Giovanni and Bartolo were one and the same—of the fact that no matter the heartbreak she could never regret their time together, and it made her tremble. She wasn’t certain if she was that strong. To grab hold of an experience while giving no thought to the pain that the consequences might cause.

  It was the kind of thing she had been avoiding all of her life. Being like her parents.

  But they don’t do anything because of love. It’s because of selfishness.

  Her chest felt like it had cracked open. Of course. That was the difference. Action was always empty, dry, when there was no love. There had been a time when her mother had kissed her goodnight before going off to a party, but the gesture had been empty. And the proof was in the fact that now that Gabriella was an adult neither of her parents ever spoke to her. Those goodnight kisses could not be a happy memory, not now that she could see them so clearly for what they were. The proper motions that her parents went through in order to salve what little conscience they had.

  This…this had nothing to do with going through the motions. Had nothing to do with doing the right thing. It was just…need.

  Alex was a man so far removed from the world. Everything in it seemed to move around him. And he seemed to exist in it untouched.

  She wanted to touch him. Not just his skin, but beneath it. She wanted to reach him down deep where his heart beat. Wanted to heat him from the inside out, warm his blood, his soul.

  Mostly, she just wanted everything he had promised her back in the library. When they parted, the wound would linger. No matter what happened now. If he was going to leave a scar, she wanted it to be such a scar. So deep, so affecting, it would never heal.

  She inched toward him, reaching out and placing her hand over his cheek, mirroring his action.

  “Gabriella,” he said, his voice a growl, warning.

  She didn’t listen to it.

  She leaned forward, claiming his mouth with hers, kissing him as though she had a right to do it. As though she knew how.

  She knew that he would recognize her limited technique, because she had learned it from him. It was all she knew. So when she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, she was keenly aware of the fact that she was plagiarizing his earlier kiss. But if he was aware of it, he didn’t show it. He was still beneath her touch, completely motionless. But he hadn’t pushed her away.

  They parted, her hand still resting on his cheek. She could hear ragged breathing filling the space between them, but couldn’t tell if it was his or hers. Both.

  “Gabriella,” he said again, “you have no idea what you’re asking for. No idea what you’re doing.”

  She pressed her forehead to his, the tips of their noses touching. “I want to make love. I know what that is, Alex. Sex. I’ve never wanted it before. Not in a specific sense. But I do now.”

  “I can’t offer you anything. I won’t make you any promises, because I will only break them.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Well, tomorrow the sky could fall, or I could get hit by a bus—”

  “It won’t, and you won’t.”

  “You don’t know that. We don’t know anything beyond right now. I saw my grandmother’s face. I know there was a lot that she regretted. But I don’t think she ever regretted being with Bartolo.” She knew that these words were tantamount to admitting that she felt more for him than simple attraction, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

  “I am the worst of sinners. I condemned my half brother to a life lived outside of the family. It was me who stood in his way. Made him feel like he could never be close to us. He told me that tonight. It is on me, Gabriella.”

  “Alex—”

  “I carry the blood of my father. Weak selfishness that I’ve worked a very long time to overcome. So believe me when I tell you I will regret nothing of what happened here tonight. My nobility is nothing mo
re than a construct. There is no conviction behind it. But you, Gabriella, you, I fear will regret this.”

  “Maybe. Tomorrow. But not now. And the only thing we have for sure is now.”

  A feral sound rumbled low in his chest and he shifted positions so that he was over her, his arms braced on either side of her shoulders.

  She locked her leg over the back of his calf, an action designed to hold him prisoner even though she knew it wouldn’t be truly effective. Still, she wanted him to know that she wanted him here. Desperately.

  “Alex,” she said, his name a prayer on her lips. She bracketed his face with her hands, looking at him, trying to see what he was thinking, even through the darkness. “Don’t you know how much I want you?”

  He tensed, pulling away from her slightly. Her heart hammered hard in her chest, clawing at her like a small beast.

  “Alex,” she said his name again, ready to beg him if she needed to.

  He flicked on the light. The way it illuminated his face cast the hollows of his cheekbones into darkness, adding a tortured quality to his features.

  “If I’m going to sin, then I’m going to do it with my eyes open,” he said. “If I’m going to have you, then I’m going to look at you while I do it.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief, sliding her hands around to the back of his neck, holding him to her. “I’m glad.”

  “You won’t be. Gabriella, I am too old for you, too jaded, too tired. I can offer you nothing. It’s a strange thing to realize that. I am a billionaire. I have more money than I could ever spend in a lifetime. I have all of these things. And for a great many years that has been good enough. I have had whoever I wanted in my life when I wanted them. I have had ultimate control over my own reputation. Wielding it like a sword when I needed to. But none of that helps me here. None of that helps with you. It is…insufficient, and I am a man who is not used to falling short.”

  “You have yourself. That’s all I have to offer. That has to be enough.”

  “Tonight it will be.”

  Alex lowered his head, kissing her deeper, harder, than he had before. A restless groove in the pit of her stomach spread through her entire body. Like a creeping vine that took over everything in its path. Winding itself around her limbs, around her throat, making it impossible for her to breathe. Binding her to Alex in a way that was so intense, so permanent, she knew that parting from him would be so much more painful than she’d imagined it would be.

  But she wouldn’t stop. Even knowing that, she wouldn’t stop.

  This time, he did not keep his hands still. He did not simply press his palm to her stomach. He let himself explore her body, his fingertips skimming her breasts before he took one firmly in hand, sliding his thumb over one hardened nipple. She gasped, arching against him, her entire body alive with sensation.

  “This is a gift I don’t deserve,” he said, his tone fractured and reverent.

  She couldn’t speak, but if she could, she would have told him that she was the one receiving a gift. So many lonely, isolated years. So much hollowness inside of her. She had hidden herself away to avoid being hurt again. To avoid more rejection. The neglect of her parents had been enough. And when she went out, she put on a mask. She didn’t let anyone see both parts of herself. Princess Gabriella never messed with Gabriella as she was day to day. She didn’t give anyone the chance to reject who she really was. But Alex had it all. Held it all in the palm of his hand as surely as he held her body. And he was here. He was touching her. Pouring out all of this attention, all of this care, onto her.

  It was so beautiful she could barely breathe.

  He pushed her shirt up over her head, baring her breasts to him. She had taken her bra off when she had put her sweats on, and now she was relieved. One less barrier between the two of them. She didn’t want anything standing between them. Didn’t want any walls up whatsoever. She wanted to give him everything—her body, her soul—and no matter how foolish she knew it was, she couldn’t stop that desire that roared through her like an untamed animal.

  It would end in heartbreak. It would end in destruction.

  But when she was old, she would look back and she would have this moment. She would have Alex. And she knew without a doubt that giving in to pure, true love was something she would never regret.

  She had no idea how this moment had happened. How this woman in this bed, in this man’s arms, was the same woman she had been only a week ago.

  She was changed. She was new. Already, he had changed the world for her. Lifted the veil so that she could see the colors more clearly, feel pleasure more keenly, feel desire sharp like a knife’s blade sliding over her skin.

  It was painful, incandescent and magical all at once.

  He made quick work of her sweatpants and underwear, leaving her completely bare to him, his dark gaze filled with hunger, a desire that couldn’t be denied, as he took in the sight of her body.

  “Gabby,” he said, her name a whispered prayer. “I never thought I appreciated art. But this… You. You are every bit of beauty a painter has ever tried to capture onto canvas. The fields, the mountains, all of the smooth female skin that has ever been painted in an attempt to show some of the glory that is here on this earth. They fall short. It all falls short of you.”

  Her heart felt so full she thought it might burst. How was this real? How was this man saying these things to her?

  It was inconceivable that she might be enough for this man.

  That he was afraid that he might not be enough for her. That he was apologizing for the lack of what he had to give.

  It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense at all.

  But she reveled in it. Accepted it. Took it as her due for so many years of feeling like she was less than.

  “I need to see you,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper she barely recognized.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.”

  He lowered his head, kissing her neck, kissing a trail along her collarbone, and down to the swell of her breasts. Then he shifted, taking her nipple into his mouth, sucking it in deep before tracing it with the tip of his tongue. The pleasure that sparked along her veins was shocking, white-hot and almost terrifying in its intensity. There was so much more to making love than a simple caress, and still, this had nearly burned her to the ground. How would she survive at all?

  She wouldn’t. Not the same.

  Nothing passed through the fire and came out the same. But at this point, she didn’t want to. She wanted to be changed. By him. Irrevocably, eternally.

  He continued his exploration, peppering kisses over her stomach, encircling her belly button with the soft stroke of his tongue before traveling downward. “You see, cara mia, were I to take my clothes off, I would not be able to resist sinking inside of you. And you deserve more than that. You deserve for me to take my time. As I told you in the library, once I’m very deep within you I will not be able to hold myself back. And so, your pleasure must come first. Now.”

  He gripped her hips, drawing her toward his mouth, her thighs spread wide as he pressed his lips to the center of her need. A short, shocked scream escaped her mouth as he lavished attention on that sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue, as he tasted her, slowly, deeply. He shifted again, pressing his finger against the entrance of her body as he continued to lavish pleasure on her with his mouth. The invasion was foreign, but it felt good.

  He added a second finger, stretching her slightly this time, the vague painful sensation drawing her out of her reverie, but only for a moment.

  Before long she grew accustomed to that, pleasure mounting inside of her again as he established a steady rhythm, working his hands and tongue in time with each other. She felt need, tension, gathering in the pit of her stomach like a ball of electricity, scattering outward, sending shocks along her system as it continued to build an intensity. So hot, so bright, she felt like she might burst with it.

  And it did burst. Rolling over her in waves un
ending, unfathomable in its depth. She gripped the bed covers, trying to use something to root her to the earth, anything. Because without it, she feared that she would lose hold of herself entirely.

  He rose up above her, kissing her deeply, her own desire a musky flavor on his tongue. “Are you all right?” he asked, his chest rising and falling with the effort it took for him to breathe.

  “Yes. More than all right. I’m… Alex, I didn’t know it was like this.”

  “What did you think it would be?” His words slurred as though he were drunk.

  “I didn’t know. Because I didn’t know it would be you.”

  “Does it matter so much that it’s me?” She sensed a rawness behind that question, a vulnerability.

  “That’s the only thing that matters.”

  He growled, kissing her again as she grabbed hold of the edge of his button-up shirt, undoing the buttons as quickly as possible. She spread her hands over that broad expanse of chest. His hard muscles…that perfect sprinkling of chest hair that reminded her just how much of a man he was. How different they were. It was heaven to touch him like this. To finally have the promise of that glorious body fulfilled, in her hands. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and threw it over the side of the bed, running her hands down his back, exploring the intricate musculature there. She parted her thighs, arching against him, feeling the evidence of his arousal against where she was wet and aching for him already. She should be satisfied, after what he had just done for her. She found she was far from it.

  “I need you. How can I need you this badly after all of that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  “I would tell you that’s sex, cara. I would tell you that’s desire. But it is not sex or desire in any way that I know it. I do not shake for want of being inside of a woman. You make me shake. You make me feel as though I won’t be able to breathe until I have you. Until I’m joined to you. What witchcraft is that, Gabriella? You must tell me.”

  “How can I? I’m just a virgin. You are supposed to be wise. You’re supposed to be the one teaching me.”