Dante's Contract Marriage (8 page)

“I’m fine. Thank you, Lazz.”

She’d switched back to English, and when she glanced up, she managed to regard him with the sort of regal poise that must have been drummed into her from infancy. And yet, he could feel the want sizzling behind the facade.

Something had changed as a result of what they’d gone through during the storm. They’d come out the other side and everything had been different. There’d always been a strong, sexual awareness between them—not The Inferno. Not a chance. But definitely an awareness. Now, that awareness had sharpened to a keen edge. One that was going to cut them if they didn’t do something to blunt it.

“Call me if you need help getting out.” He paused at the door and shot her a wicked grin, one he hoped disguised how he really felt. “Looks like I should have used more bubble bath, not less.”

Ariana glanced down and gasped. Embarrassing gaps had appeared in the bubbles. The tips of her breasts peeked through one of those gaps, while the curve of her hip and belly could clearly be seen through another.

She shivered despite the warmth of the water. Humorous remarks aside, she’d never seen that look in Lazz’s eyes before. Sure, she’d seen awareness. Desire. But not to this extent. Not that bone-deep hunger that had turned his eyes to jade. He wanted her. Badly. It showed in the tautness of his face and the ferocity of his gaze, as well as the rigid play of muscles across his impressive chest. It suggested a man hovering on the edge, clawing to hold himself in check.

This time she shivered for real. The bathwater had gone from toasty to cool, and the bubbles were little more than a delicious memory. Even the bag of frozen corn had turned warm and soggy.

Levering herself onto the edge of the platform surrounding the tub, she grabbed a towel for her hair and wrapped a second one around herself. Her ankle felt better, at least enough for her to hobble out of the bathroom in search of clean clothes. The central portion of the cabin remained in darkness with only the flickering light from the fireplace to pierce the shadows.

Lazz stood as she limped into the room. “You should have called me.”

“I managed.”

“Do you need help dressing?”

Absolutely not. “I don’t think so, thanks.”

He moved from his stance by the fireplace, and she lost him in the darkness, tracking him by voice alone. “I’ll go top off the generator while you change. Feel free to turn on a light if you want. I left them off to conserve fuel so we could keep the refrigerator and freezer running.”

She offered a self-conscious smile. “Not to mention the hot water heater.”

There was a stillness about him that unnerved her. A purposefulness. And she could practically taste the tension thickening the air. “That, too.”

She clung to the edges of her damp towel. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this awkward. Lazz must have sensed as much because he left the cabin without another word. Ariana didn’t waste any time. She limped to the dresser as quickly as her ankle would allow and dug through the drawers. She yanked out clothing at random, anything that would give her adequate coverage.

She’d just finished dressing when an unearthly screech split the air, followed by a boom so violent it jolted the cabin right down to its foundations and literally knocked her off her feet. She lay on the floor, fighting for breath, not daring to move. Whatever just happened, it had killed the generator.

The instant the thought entered her mind, she bolted upright and shrieked, “Lazz!”

She scrambled to her feet and hobbled to the back door of the cabin. Turning the knob, she attempted to open it, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she shoved. She threw her full weight against it, horrified when her actions made absolutely no impact. Something had wedged the door shut. She hammered on the wooden surface and shouted for Lazz, panic sweeping through her.

He was out there. Whatever had caused that hideous noise and knocked out the generator, Lazz had been there when it had happened. The flashlight. Where had she put her flashlight? She stumbled back toward the fireplace and found it on the table that fronted the love seat. Switching it on, she hurried to the front door and threw it open. The storm had circled back on itself and continued unabated, lashing the clearing and forest with wind and rain. Thunder rumbled, the rolling boom a far different sound than the one that had knocked her off her feet. Lightning forked a jagged path across the sky, and that’s when she saw him.

Lazz came toward her through the rain, tall and broad and—as far as she could tell—undamaged. Ignoring the stab of pain from her ankle, Ariana shot across the porch, down the steps and into the storm. He broke into a run as she made a beeline for him. The next instant, he scooped her up into his arms.

“Are you all right?” he demanded, urgency underscoring the question.

“Fine. I’m fine. What about you?” Her hands raced over his face and down across the breadth of his shoulders, searching for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing serious.” He hustled toward the porch. “Though it was a close call.”

She knew she was crying, but hoped he attributed it to rain instead of tears. “What happened? What made that horrible sound?”

“Tree came down. Took out the generator shed a few seconds before I got there.”

The tears came faster. “It didn’t hit you? You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

His arms tightened around her, holding her snug against his heart. She could feel the calming beat, the steady reassurance that he’d survived and was here with her, safe and sound. “I got brushed back by a few of the smaller branches. Nothing serious. But the tree blocked off the back of the cabin.”

He carried her across the threshold and inside. The symbolism of his actions didn’t strike her until much, much later. “Show me. Show me this ‘nothing serious.’” Struggling free of his hold, she shoved at his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders, not even aware of her actions. “Show me where you were hit,” she demanded.

He didn’t fight her. He must have understood her fear and concern. “Across the shoulder. Right arm.”

“Take off your shirt. Let me see.” She aimed the flashlight at his torso and waited. When he didn’t immediately move to comply, she added, “I’m serious, Lazz. Do it.”

He gripped the bottom of his shirt and whipped it up and off. For some reason, he focused on a point over her shoulder, almost as though standing there before her, stripped to the waist, had left him vulnerable on some level. She understood the feeling all too well, considering that not an hour ago their positions had been reversed. Now it was her turn to care for him.

It took her a moment to regain her focus. She’d seen him bare chested any number of times. It still had the power to steal her breath away. Heaven help her but he was built. His jeans rode low on narrow hips, offering her plenty of viewing room.

Strong, lean muscle rippled across the endless expanse of golden skin, begging for her touch. Soft against hard. Gentle overlaying power. She felt the piercing siren’s call of The Inferno—no, not The Inferno. Lazz had insisted it was lust, nothing more. No matter how she might long for it to be different, their feelings for one another weren’t the stuff of legend.

Ariana forced herself to put aside foolish dreams and examine Lazz for any signs of injury. She found evidence almost immediately. Several gouges streaked across his shoulder and down his chest, while a bruise was already forming across his right bicep.

The beam from the flashlight trembled. “You were hurt.”

He glanced down and shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

Tentatively, she reached for him, stroking his chest with trembling fingertips. The instant she touched him, he froze. A harsh sound rumbled in his throat, and he closed his eyes. A tense second passed. And then he looked at her again, and she realized that he’d lost the battle to hold himself in check. Gently, he reached for her. And just as gently, she surrendered.

L
azz cupped Ariana’s hips and locked her against him, a delicious slide of male against female. Before she could do more than catch her breath in a soft gasp, he slid under her shirt and upward until he hit hot, satiny skin.

“I’ve tried.” His voice contained the same raw, gritty quality as sandpaper. “I’ve done my best to leave you alone. But I can’t. If you still want me to honor your request, you need to say so. Now. While I can still stop what’s about to happen.”

Common sense struggled to override base desire. Her motives for refusing to make love to her husband were sound. They were part of her core values, as vital to her well-being as her heartbeat. In addition, Brimstone was missing. How would Lazz view her actions tonight if her father was unable to recover the stone?

It didn’t take any consideration at all. He’d be furious and might even wonder if she’d sacrificed herself on the altar, as it were, in order to protect her family. But in this moment, her need to complete the bond between them overrode every last sensible thought. Whatever connection had formed when they stood before the altar and first joined hands had slipped into her heart and soul and become as much a part of her as those values.

As hard as she tried to resist, she’d have an easier time convincing the tide not to turn or the sun to dim its flames. She wanted him. Wanted his hands on her. Wanted their clothes off. “Don’t stop. Please, Lazz. Make love to me.”

He shook his head, regret reflected in his expression. “I don’t think I know how to love.” He swept her up into his arms once again and carried her to the bed. He settled her onto the mattress and followed her down. “But you make me want to try. And I swear what I feel for you is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

He didn’t give her time to respond, but lowered his head and took her mouth in a kiss so tender, so warm and life-affirming that any remaining resistance slipped away. She opened to him, welcoming him inward.

A delicious humming darted through her veins. “More,” she murmured.

“Anything you want.”

“You. I just want you.”

He reached for her, then hesitated at the last minute. “I just realized. I have no way of protecting you.”

She stared blankly. “Protecting me?”

“From pregnancy,” he clarified.

She struggled to think straight, to admit—even to herself—that she’d considered that possibility over the course of the past week, despite her marital conditions. That she’d done the mental arithmetic…just in case. “It’s safe.”

He accepted her at her word. “Thank heaven for small miracles.”

He grasped the hem of her cotton shirt and drew it up and over her head. She emerged breathless and rumpled. Lightning burned the room in hard white light, spotlighting her partial nudity. She heard Lazz’s sharp inhalation and caught a glimpse of the undisguised desire that cut sharp grooves on either side of his mouth. Green and gold fire flashed in his eyes as he looked at her, igniting a scorching path across her skin.

Darkness consumed them once again, alleviated only by the banked glow emanating from the fireplace. Thunder rattled the windows, but this time she didn’t flinch at the sound, not while Lazz held her safe within the protective warmth of his arms. His hands glided across the silken curve of her abdomen and upward to cup her breast.

Her heartbeat stuttered before catching and echoing the beat of his, and frantic need exploded deep in the pit of her stomach. She arched farther into his embrace, a low moan disturbing the air between them.

“I’ve never touched anything so soft,” he murmured. “Or so warm.”

“I think I’m melting into the mattress.”

He chuckled, the sound deliciously intimate. “That makes two of us. It’s either melt, or set the sheets on fire.”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

And he did. He caught her nipple between his teeth and tugged. She didn’t have a hope of concealing her response, not when it shuddered through her. He absorbed her reaction and excited another as he followed a velveteen path downward.

The breath escaped her lungs in a desperate rush. “What are you doing?”

He paused, tracing the indent of her belly with his mouth and then with his tongue. “You can’t say that in English, can you?”

She groaned. “No. Please, Lazz.”

“Let me in, Ariana. I want to know every part of you.”

“Don’t. I can’t—”

Reason fled and so did any capacity to speak. He slid his hands beneath her backside and lifted her. He touched her with surprising delicacy, a slow, thorough exploration that had her clutching fistfuls of the sheet beneath them. Her thighs tensed as he delved into the damp heat of her, and she would have jackknifed off the bed if he hadn’t held her in place. Again he touched her, the tip of his tongue skating ruthlessly along its predetermined path.

The muscles in her belly drew taut, and she literally lost the ability to see or hear or reason. A deep quaking struck, the epicenter just beneath his tongue and radiating outward in great, rolling waves. She’d never experienced anything like it before, couldn’t seem to process what he’d done to her.

But he wasn’t finished. Before the aftermath of the final quake had fully died away, he surged upward and sank into her with a single, unerring stroke. She froze at the unexpected pain and fullness, catching her lip between her teeth so she wouldn’t cry out.

“What’s wrong?”

She took a deep, careful breath. “It’s a bit uncomfortable,” she admitted.

“I assume it’s been a while?”

“A while,” she confirmed. “If never is a while.”

“Never?” A moment of stunned silence followed. “Are you telling me you’ve never made love before?” he asked carefully.

Did he even realize he referred to it as lovemaking? Until that moment he’d always called it sex. “No, I’ve never made love before. I once heard some friends of Constantine’s—ex-friends—taking bets to see who could relieve me of my virginity first.”

“Bastards.”

She shrugged. “It was because I’m a Romano. It would have given them bragging rights to have been the first. But perhaps I should have mentioned it to you sooner.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “That might have been a good idea.”

“Has this deflated your interest?” she asked politely.

A rough laugh escaped him. “Not even a little. I almost wish it had.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem if you go slowly.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can do. Right now, it’s taking all my self-control not to move.”

“What if I move?” Cautiously, she arched upward, absorbing a bit more of him, before sinking back down again. “How’s that?”

He groaned. “Yes.”

“More?”

He didn’t answer. He simply took her mouth with his. His tongue slid inward before withdrawing in a leisurely rhythm. Understanding what he wanted, she shifted her hips upward, matching stroke for stroke. Little by little the rhythm picked up, increasing in speed and depth until she’d fully sheathed him.

She couldn’t say when he joined the dance. One moment she was leading, and the next they matched each other move for move. Scorching heat slicked across her skin and sank into her pores, radiating through her. She could feel the quickening approach again and moved to chase it.

Lazz raced with her, encouraging her with word and touch. Then he was driving their movements, driving her. They climbed, fast and hard, teetering breathlessly at the very peak. The air exploded from her in a sharp cry and she felt his final push to join her as she tumbled over. He stiffened within her embrace, frozen for a timeless moment.

She’d never seen anything more soul-shattering than his expression in that intensely personal moment. She’d brought him to this. It showed in his eyes, a knowledge that whatever connected them was utterly unique and all-consuming. That her touch, her embrace, had fulfilled him in ways he’d never experienced before. That no matter who or what had come before, she had changed him.

As though aware of how much he’d given away, he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ariana.”

“Sorry?” She stared in bewilderment. “Why are you sorry?”

“You deserve more than I can give you.” The admission was torn from him. “Your first time should have been with someone you loved.”

“How do you know it wasn’t?”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Love doesn’t guarantee a happily-ever-after marriage. It didn’t for my parents. In fact, they set a spectacular example of love gone wrong. I’d rather not follow in their footsteps. I’d rather not build our relationship into some ridiculous fantasy. Because when the fall comes, it’s going to be long and hard.”

“What about your grandparents?” she protested. “Your brothers? Haven’t they shown that a marriage can endure? That love can, as well?”

“It’s early days for my brothers. And my grandparents are merely the exception that proves the rule.” He took her hand in his as he rolled off of her. She doubted he was even aware of the way he interlaced their fingers so their palms were joined. “Right before my father died, I remember him telling me how alike we were. That I got my logical bent from him and that it would make a successful marriage more difficult for me than my brothers.”

“And you think that means you can’t love?” she asked, stunned.

“I think it means he discovered The Inferno wasn’t real. He didn’t believe in it any more than I do. I think he was telling me that it didn’t exist, no matter what Primo claimed to the contrary. That I shouldn’t go looking for what couldn’t be found.”

She stared, appalled. “Did your father actually say that?”

Lazz’s mouth twisted. “Not in so many words. But I’m logical, which makes me fairly good at connecting the dots.” He released her hand and cupped her face. “Do you realize you speak in Italian whenever you’re upset?”

“Like now?”

“Like now.” He traced a fingertip from the hollow of her throat to the tip of her breast. “Of course, you also speak Italian when you’re aroused.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. “Like now?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She slid into helpless surrender, enjoying the delicious give of female to male. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. And it’s definitely not supposed to happen again.”

“It was inevitable.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You don’t believe in divorce, and I don’t believe in love.” He feathered a kiss across her mouth. And then another. “So where does that leave us, Ariana? Do you want to change the conditions we agreed to?”

A bittersweet laugh escaped her. “In case you didn’t notice, the conditions have already been changed.”

Lazz conceded her point with a brief smile. “What do you want from me?”

Love. A home. A real marriage, she wanted to say. But he wasn’t capable of providing any of those things. “I’m not asking you for anything.”

“Aren’t you?”

She flinched. Was she so easy to read? Could he really see into her heart, see the dreams and hopes she kept safely tucked away there? Had she left herself so open and vulnerable? One careless touch and he could shatter all she held most dear. Assuming he hadn’t already. She needed to protect herself and pull back before he hurt her more than he had already. At the very least she needed to pull back until her father had found Brimstone. Because if Lazz ever found out that she’d known it was missing and had still gone through with their wedding, he’d never forgive the betrayal. Not after what Caitlyn and Marco had done to him.

She slid from his embrace and escaped the bed. Snatching up the sheet, she wound it around herself. “This—” She gestured toward the rumpled bed. “We need to agree that our sexual encounter never occurred.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sexual encounter?”

Her chin shot up. “Would you prefer I call it lovemaking?”

“
Touché.
” He lifted onto an elbow, not in the least concerned about his nudity, and regarded her through narrowed eyes. “You think we can just pretend tonight never happened?”

She kicked the trailing end of the sheet to one side. “Yes.”

“And if we pretend hard enough, we can have our marriage annulled?” he asked in a neutral voice.

Pain filled her, a soul-deep ache. “I don’t know.”

He hesitated. “We don’t have to annul it. Or divorce. There’s a third option.”

She froze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we can stay married.”

“Because I was a virgin? Because we had sex?”

He shook his head. “Just because I don’t believe in love doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in marriage. I want to have children someday.”

She drew in a sharp breath. Did he have any idea how insulting she found his offer? “And since we find each other physically compatible, why not?”

“That was more than physical compatibility. Way more.”

“So, I’ll do? Physically, intellectually, socially, I meet all the criteria for a wife?”

He swore. “I’m suggesting we consider turning our marriage into something more than what we originally discussed. If you’re not interested—”

“No. I’m not.”

Not on his terms. Not in such a cold-blooded, logical fashion. She closed her eyes, fighting tears. Was he really so emotionally detached that he didn’t understand how his “suggestion” came across? That he didn’t see how she ached for him to consider the possibility—even if for one tiny second—that fantasy could become reality? That his Dante family legacy might be alive and well and burning within them both?