The Italian's Baby of Passion: The Italian's Secret Baby / One-Night Baby / The Italian's Secret Child

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘WHETHER I am or not is totally irrelevant and none of your business,’ Scarlet was driven by sheer embarrassment to retort.

‘It won’t be irrelevant to the guy who sleeps with you,’ Rowan promised grimly.

Scarlet heard the shaken note in his voice. Well, she’d wanted to turn him off and it would seem she’d succeeded.

‘Obviously that changes things,’ he added soberly.

Scarlet glared at him indignantly. ‘I don’t see why. I may not be vastly experienced, but I think I’d manage to keep up with you. How hard can it be?’

Something moved at the back of his eyes in response to her challenge. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’ He heard the words come out of his mouth but still he couldn’t believe he’d been responsible for them. A virgin? I’m mad out of my head, insane.

He watched the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, her lips slightly parted and rosily moist and her eyes—eyes that were frequently a mirror image of her mood—sparkling with reckless challenge.

‘What have you been doing—waiting for the right man?’ he blasted, suddenly mad as hell with her.

Scarlet blinked, bewildered by his anger. ‘Well, that rules you out!’

A nerve jumped along his hard jaw as he leant closer, his voice soft in her ear. ‘I may not be the right man, Scarlet, but maybe I’m the wrong man? Sometimes the wrong man, like the forbidden fruit, can be more exciting.’

Mesmerised by the erotic rasp of his low voice and spectacular pitch-black smouldering eyes, she stared up at him so painfully excited and aroused she had to fight for each individual breath. Her body, every inch of her skin was burning, trickles of moisture formed in the hollow between her breasts and tiny trickles ran down the smooth skin of her back.

‘I…I…’ she stuttered, staring at him in undisguised longing. He was so beautiful she wanted to cry; he was so beautiful she wanted to beg him to touch her. Her mind was so consumed by desire that she had no other thought in her head but assuaging the hunger inside her.

He touched the side of her face, and looked into eyes wide and startled. Scarlet returned his stare before sucking in a deep breath and closing her eyes tight to shut out his probing stare.

She felt as if her feelings were written in neon a mile high across her face. She loved him. She who had always scoffed at the idea of love at first sight had fallen madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with Roman O’Hagan.

His fingers barely brushed her skin yet a moan was drawn from deep in her throat. She felt him take her hands within his and she lifted her head. He was standing over her. She trembled as he unfurled her tightly clenched fingers before placing both her hands palm down against his chest. She felt the ripple of taut muscles beneath her fingers and the last vestiges of restraint melted away in the heat of arousal.

Drawing a deep breath, she splayed her fingers and deepened the exploration of the hard male contours. She could feel the heat of his skin through the fine fabric of his shirt.

‘You’re totally incredible,’ she breathed.

‘I want your hands on me.’

Scarlet, her tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrated all her senses on the tactile sensation, slid her fingers through the inviting gap between the buttons.

‘You’re warm,’ she whispered, trailing one finger slowly along the hard but incredibly smooth muscled ridges of his perfectly developed chest down to his flat belly.

With a mumbled hoarse imprecation Roman took hold of the expensive fabric of his shirt and pulled. There was a harsh ripping sound and buttons flew across the room.

‘Your shirt!’ she protested.

‘I’ve got other shirts.’ With a shrug he dismissed the damaged article that hung loosely open to his waist. ‘However I’ve only one mind and if you don’t touch me it could be permanently damaged,’ he claimed, taking her wrist.

Scarlet only spent a moment wondering what he was going to do before he placed her hand palm-flat against the broad expanse of softly gleaming golden flesh his violent action had exposed. She felt the sharp contraction of taut muscles beneath her hand and her own stomach muscles spasmed as if in sympathy.

His warm, fragrant breath brushed her sensitive earlobe as he inclined his dark, glossy head. ‘No, not warm,’ he contradicted. ‘Hot. You,’ he confided huskily, ‘make me hot. From the moment I saw those delicious little breasts of yours I wanted to taste them. I wanted…’

Scarlet, who felt light-headed and strangely removed from what was happening, smiled; it was a smile of anticipation. Perhaps it was that distance, that sense of unreality that enabled her to respond with such devastating honesty? Or maybe something in her instinctively recognised that the situation warranted some plain speaking. Either way she knew this wasn’t the time to be sensible or cautious.

Hell! Hadn’t she had a lifetime of being both? Didn’t she deserve just a little madness?

‘No, don’t say it,’ she begged, directing her passionglazed slumberous stare to his face. ‘Do it!’ she commanded, reaching up to greedily sink her fingers in his hair. The dark waves were ebony and slippery like silk, but she clung hard, yanking his face down to her level.

‘It hurts,’ she told him, pressing her mouth hard against his. Her eyes were glittering with a feverish brilliance when her head lifted.

‘What hurts?’ he asked raggedly.

‘Wanting to touch you hurts. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want you,’ she revealed starkly.

For a long sizzling moment their glances froze, the mutual message of hunger between them a palpable entity. His gasp, the one that moulded his belly into a tight, concave curve, was part of the same fluid movement that scooped her up into his arms.

Scarlet’s arms looped about his neck, her legs locked tight around his middle, she kissed him with all the fervour of a mouse totally determined the cat would catch her as Roman bore his burden in the general direction of the bedroom.

They collided with several large items of furniture, knocked over a lamp, a framed picture and sundry items, but neither registered the destruction they left in their wake.

Roman didn’t bother to detach her from him; instead he fell onto the bed with her on top of him.

He looked up at the woman who sat wantonly astride him…Given what he knew, could she legitimately be called a woman? He pushed aside the distracting question and indulged his senses fully in the delicious image—delicious curves, lush mouth and shiny take-me-now eyes.

Scarlet looked around her, her perplexed expression suggesting she didn’t have the faintest idea how she’d come to be there.

The sultry, scared smile that she gave him made the ache in his groin almost unbearable. Still holding his eyes, she positioned a hand either side of his shoulders and leaned over him, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

‘What happened to your glasses?’

‘Dark drawer time.’ She kissed him, a long, deep, languid kiss.

‘Pity, I liked them.’

‘Liar,’ she taunted huskily as she kissed her way up his neck.

‘I had this fantasy about taking them off.’

‘Really?’ She blinked. ‘You had fantasies about me?’

He laughed against her mouth. ‘Oh, yes, Scarlet.’ He gave a grunt of frustration as her luscious lips lifted from his. ‘I’ve had several fantasies about you.’

‘You could take something else off instead of the glasses,’ she suggested huskily.

‘I’d prefer to watch you do it.’

It was as she was unbuttoning the final button on her pyjama top that the wanton reality of what she was doing hit her. Roman, lying beneath her, his dark, intense gaze focused on her every move, saw the feelings of indecision reflected on her face.

‘Let me,’ he said, taking the white-knuckled fingers that were clutching the edges of the garment tightly together. Her lips parted to protest but their eyes touched and the resistance slid out of her. Still holding her eyes, he gently removed her stiff fingers.

The fabric parted.

Scarlet, overcome by self-consciousness, would have covered herself with her hands but he held them at her sides. The silence pulsated while his eyes feasted on the ivory perfection of her small pink-tipped breasts. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the erotic sight; her body was bathed in a rosy flush of arousal that gave her skin a translucent quality.

‘Dio, cara, you’re so incredibly beautiful.’ His voice, raw and needy, ached with sincerity.

Head inclined to one side, Scarlet searched his face, not quite confident enough to use the power she sensed she had over him. ‘Truly?’ she panted wonderingly.

Still holding her wrists, he turned over, pulling her beneath him. ‘I never say things I don’t mean,’ he asserted imperiously.

Though she was only anchored beneath him for a moment before he slid off her and arranged his lean length beside her, it was long enough for her to know that that was where she wanted him. She wanted to feel the hot, heavy weight of his body on top of her. She wanted him to press her body into the softness of the mattress until it could sink no farther; she wanted him to sink into her.

Roman released her wrists but she made no attempt to move them from above her head. She turned her head towards him, and the sultry invitation glowing in her eyes wrenched a primitive groan from his throat before his mouth came crashing down hard and hungry on her lips.

Scarlet gave a soft moan of pleasure as he licked his way into her mouth, skilfully probing the sweet recesses. She welcomed the sensual demand of his lips and kissed him back enthusiastically, drowning in the pleasure as she felt his big hands on her body.

When his fingertips traced a delicate pathway along her straight, supple spine she shivered and stirred restively in his arms. The ripples of hot sensation went all the way to her curling toes. As his exploration shifted to her aching breasts the ripple became an avalanche.

He stroked and teased until her already painfully sensitised flesh felt as if it were on fire, she were on fire! She had never in her wildest fantasies come close to imagining the sort of blind, relentless hunger that gripped her at that moment.

When his fingers slid under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms she shivered hard and lifted her hips to help him slide them down her legs.

The air against her bare skin made her shiver. Scarlet opened her eyes and discovered he was propped up on one elbow looking down at her. He shifted his weight while he fought his way out of his damaged-beyond-repair shirt, not taking his dark liquid eyes from her as he casually flung the garment across the room.

Transfixed by the spectacle of perfectly toned muscle and deliciously smooth golden flesh, Scarlet gulped as her greedy eyes ate him up. She was weak with lust just looking at him. He was magnificent, perfect in every way, and the idea of touching that sleek, smooth body made her ache inside.

‘You have a beautiful body.’ There was a tremor of something close to reverence in his deep voice. ‘So pale and perfect in every way.’

Scarlet, who had always compared herself with a beautiful sister, was extremely glad that beauty really did turn out to be in the eye of the beholder after all. But who would have guessed the beholder in question would turn out to be a man like Roman?

She rolled half onto her stomach and Roman’s hot eyes zeroed in on the curve of her smooth peachy bottom. He inhaled slowly through flared nostrils when her small hand curved determinedly over him, he released the breath in a slow sibilant hiss as her fingers then tightened over him. Rhythmically she repeated the process again and again.

He was so much harder than she had imagined, feeling him pulse against her hand made the heavy, dragging sensation in the pit of her belly a hundred times more intense. Her skin had acquired a sheen of moisture by the time he drew her tormenting hand from his body.

His eyes, dark and insolent, touched her face. ‘Don’t forget your place,’ he instructed as he levered himself lightly from the bed.

Scarlet opened her mouth to protest and then saw he was unfastening his belt. The hot rush of desire that zapped through her left her literally panting for breath.

There was an electrified silence as he kicked aside his boxer shorts. Transfixed, she couldn’t take her eyes off the hard contours of his taut, toned frame. There were no excess pounds to blur or disguise the perfect muscle definition of his upper body, flat belly and powerful thighs.

He was simply beautiful, a perfect bronzed statue come to life. She felt the prickle of emotional tears behind her eyelids as she feasted her eyes on him.

She was not conscious of moaning his name out loud, but she was conscious of the raw out-of-control light burning in his incredible eyes as he rejoined her. The skin-to-skin contact blasted the last shred of reason, of caution, from her head.

While he kissed her soft lips, deep searing kiss after deep searing kiss, she was all the time conscious of the hardness of his erection grinding into her belly. His skilful hands were moving over her sensitised body. She was equally driven to touch every inch of his smooth golden skin, explore every centimetre of the taut, silky surface.

The air was filled with gasps, hoarse whimpers of pleasure and muted moans.

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