Until Twilight (2 page)

In life? Or only in work? Curse your wandering mind, Bella.
“Frankly, Mr. Hallowell, I don’t know how to share. My expertise in bomb detection and dismantling is one I have

cultivated for nearly five years. I have had supervisors in the Italian police and I have belonged to a team. But never assigned to one man to work with, day after day. Forgive

me for my bluntness, but I must say these things.”

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Until Twilight

His dark brows rose only fractionally. “If we are to work together, there is no other

way to proceed.”

“
Sì
, I agree.”

“
Buon giorno,
Signorina
.
” The waiter clad in black appeared at their side. In Italian, he asked for her order.

“Hot chocolate,” she replied without looking up at him. “And four of the dark

chocolate truffles filled with
vin santo
. I hope you will share them with me, Signore Hallowell?”

“
Grazie
, I will. Nothing more for me at the moment,
prego
,” he instructed the waiter who left them pronto.

He seemed so self-contained, so utterly unflappable, that she knew she would have

to lead the conversation. Folding her hands in her lap, she willed her body to a serene pose she knew was a lie and said, “Tell me about Nemesis from your perspective. I

know it from the corporate website and from a few of my friends who have hired the

group. But I must know what you think of management. The salary. The travel. The

assignments.”

His mouth hitched up in a one-sided grin. The dimple came out to play. “You are

interviewing me?”

She spread her hands out wide and arched her brows at him. “Naturally. You

learned all you need to know about me,
sì
?”

His face fell. His body, if it were possible, became more still. “Not all, Bella.”

The words, the tone, his endearing address of her suspended them both in a

moment in time.

“Tell me,” she managed after god knew how long, “about the company.”

He began a litany of facts about Nemesis. The size of the security firm. The date it

was organized by Nicole Welles. How she added her oldest friend, Maddie Sommers, to

the staff, and then Maddie’s new husband, Dan Foreman. How Lane himself had come

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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand

on after a stint in the Secret Service. Now the recent addition of Nicole’s new husband, Adam Molloy who was a former Israeli Mossad agent, added depth to the organization

that consulted for independent companies and governments alike. “We take only the

assignments which we are drawn to ethically. And we do an assessment of our

likelihood of success, all before we sign any contracts with a client.”

“I like your principles.”

“Once we are committed, we never stop until we are successful,” he told her in a

manner that had her wondering if indeed he really told her about himself and his

potential relationship with her.
Sì, Bella, you.

The waiter appeared at their side with her truffles and hot cocoa, then placed them

before her.

She could not take her eyes from Lane Hallowell.

“We know we need on staff someone whose expertise is explosives. You are the

most qualified. You fit our needs very well.”

“And your need for a partner?”

He nodded, then said, “And my need for a very good partner,” as if he caressed her

lips, her breasts and her swollen, needy cunt.

Mesmerized, lost, she reached across the table and with two fingers caught the rim

of his sunglasses and slowly took them from his face.

His eyes.

Madre Mia.
His eyes were a kaleidoscope of green and gold shards of brilliant glass.

They were sensuous, large and heavy-lidded, beneath strong, slashing brown brows.

And they were more eloquent than any words he might have uttered. He wanted her.

Her breasts beaded.

Her pussy pulsed.

She rose, picked up her briefcase and dropped his glasses inside. Then she picked

up his hand. “Leave twenty euro.”

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Until Twilight

He fished in his trouser pockets for some bills. He had no idea what he threw

down. He could only watch this woman who possessed him. She was willowy, but

well-endowed. She was a dark-haired siren with onyx eyes and a carriage so regal, he

had grown hard since he first saw her pausing in front of the
David
. Christ knew how he could even open his mouth to talk to her. And if she decided she would join

Nemesis, someone had better teach him how to work with her. Because all he wanted to

do was kiss her wide, sultry mouth, discover those beautiful, big breasts and make her

moan and twist and come loudly in his arms.

And now for all his boyish silent drooling, and all his determination to keep it

professional and practical, she was leading him at a determined clip through the piazza toward Santa Croce.

She said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her nipples were taut beneath the thin white

halter dress. Her expression was closed, focused on her goal.

He could barely walk, his cock was so engorged. So erect. Damn, how far away was

her apartment? He tried to remember her address from her
vitae
and couldn’t. What the hell. She knew where they were going. She knew what she was doing.

The smell of new leather hit his nostrils as they hurried through the narrow lanes of

the tanners’ district. Wafting out of the workrooms and shops were the aromas of

espresso, chocolate and freshly cut garlic. Golden rays of the dying afternoon sun

warmed the buildings and the pavement as the two of them hastened past.

Just this side of the church of Santa Croce, she halted before a building with huge

windows and large balconies. She stepped up to its ochre and yellow door. Digging out

a key, she turned the lock and proceeded up a winding staircase. She never looked

back. She knew he was there on her heels. At the third floor, she paused before another door, opened it and held it as he followed her inside.

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Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand

Here in the hall made rosy by the twilight rays streaming through a large window

at the other end, she placed her briefcase and her keys on a large table and turned to

him.

Her expression was tight, almost pleading with him.

He understood.

And as he took her in his arms and pressed her to the wall, as he lifted one hand

and dropped a kiss to her palm, her wrist, her forearm, her elbow, he whispered, “
Bella
mia
, this was never my plan.”

Her head lolled against the wall, her lush mouth fell open. Her hauntingly lovely

black eyes absorbed him. “I told myself it was not mine.”

He captured her chin between two fingers. “Once. We’ll make love once.”

She gasped, a stricken look on her face.

Her disappointment broke his heart, fired his pride and made his cock harden

painfully.

“This is no interview,” she demanded on a whisper as she outlined his lips with one

forefinger.

“No. This has nothing to do with work.” He bent and picked her up in his arms.

“This has everything to do with need.”

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Until Twilight

Lane wanted to strip the flimsy dress from her body, tear away any scrap of lingerie

beneath it so she was naked to his eyes. Instead he drew in a deep, controlling breath.

One did not go at Isabella Sebastiani like an animal. This was a woman to be tasted,

savored, explored. With this unexpected erotic pleasure he would definitely take his

time.

“Bedroom,” he growled in her ear, running his tongue along the sensitive shell.

“End of the hallway,” she gasped, pointing.

Lane strode down the short hallway to the open door at the end into a large, high-

ceilinged room He barely noticed the typical Mediterranean-style furniture or the huge

windows with a view of the city that she flung open when they entered the room. His

attention was focused on the enormous bed that dominated the room. An expanse of

carved headboard stretched along the wall, the bed itself covered in what looked like

acres of pale, pistachio-green quilt.

“Do you hold parties in that thing,
bella
?”

Her laugh was unsteady. “Not usually, but I think we’re going to have one today.”

Grasping the material with his hand, he yanked it down toward the footboard

before standing Isabella at the edge of the mattress. He moved his hands up and down

her arms, caressing the soft skin, feeling the tiny shivers racing through her. His gaze dropped to her nipples, dark beneath the fabric of the dress and so obviously hard. He

pinched one of them lightly between thumb and forefinger and was rewarded with a

soft whimper.

On impulse, he bent his head and drew the thin cotton of her dress, the sheer silk of

her bra and her beaded nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and flicking his tongue

over the surface. Isabella threaded her fingers through his hair, clutching his head and 13

Desiree Holt & Cerise DeLand

arching herself into him. His cock flexed against the material of his slacks, a painful reminder of his state of arousal.

Slow, Hallowell. Keep it slow.

He grabbed handfuls of the material of her skirt and drew it slowly up her thighs to

her hips, grasping it with one hand while the other slid beneath the edge of her thong to cup her ass. He moved his fingers down to where her buttocks and her thigh connected,

then lower just to the edge of her slit. Automatically she widened her stance to give him better access and his finger reached farther to circle the opening to her pussy.

He continued his dual assault on her nipple and her cunt, her tiny moans arousing

him further, her slender fingers digging into his skull. With a tremendous effort he

lifted his head from her breast and slipped his hand back up over her ass. Breathing

heavily, he reached for the button holding the halter top closed. When the fabric fell

away, he stared at the rich lushness of her breasts now open to his gaze. He cupped

them in his palms, taking their weight and thumbing her nipples gently. Damn! They

were huge, firm and inviting. He could suck on them all night.

Pressing his mouth to her, he gently licked her full, sensuous lips while he made

quick work of the back zipper on the skirt of her dress, letting it fall to the floor and pool at her feet. He squeezed and kneaded her breasts while his tongue thrust inside

her mouth and learned every silken inch of it.

Forcing himself to step back, he let his eyes take in every inch of her trembling

body, from her wet, taut nipples to the tiny triangle covering her mound. Lane didn’t

know where to touch first. Where to taste. She was a Florentine princess in flesh and

blood, so compellingly arousing that he nearly came just from looking at her.

“There’s no sign that says ‘Don’t touch’,” she teased, with a slight catch in her voice.

“I wish I had a dozen pairs of hands.” He could barely get the words out.

He reached to caress her shoulders, her arms, the rich swell of her breasts, pausing

to flick both the dark nipples. He molded his fingers to the indentation of her waist and the flare of her hips. His hands met on the soft skin of her tummy and moved as one

14

Until Twilight

through the trimmed glossy pubic curls to find the wet slit and within it the furled knot of her clitoris. Isabella sucked in a breath as he tugged the nub with two fingers.

The rich scent of her arousal teased at his nose and he fell to his knees, burying his

face in her pussy. As carefully as if he were opening the petals of a flower he spread her cunt lips and drew his tongue along the length of her slit. She shuddered and grasped

his shoulders, digging her fingers into his muscles.

Her taste was better than any fine wine he’d ever had and twice as intoxicating. He

lapped at her like a man dying of thirst, sliding his hands around to cup her very fine ass and hold her in place. By turns he licked her slick flesh and swirled his tongue

around her swollen clit. The more he tasted the wetter she became, her body trembling

in his grasp, delicious little sounds escaping her lips.

When she was shaking in his grasp, he nudged her until she fell backward onto the

bed, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress and splayed wide open. Locking

his mouth onto her clit, he slid two fingers inside her, curling them to find her sweet spot. Setting up an insistent rhythm with his mouth and fingers, he probed and stroked

and sucked, feeling the tension grow in her body.

“Oh, please,” she cried out, thighs quivering, hands clenched into fists as they

grasped at the fine cotton sheets.

Please? Oh, yes, he’d please her all right. He increased the pace of mouth and

fingers, touching all her intimate points, lapping at her rich cream. As he felt her

nearing her climax he slipped his fingers from the clasp of her pussy and moved them

along the very sensitive tissue to the area around the puckered ring of her anus then

back up again. Once, twice, then he drove three fingers into her channel and bit down

gently on her clit.

She came in a voluptuous explosion, drenching his hand and bucking her hips, little

cries of “oh, oh, oh” punctuating her spasms. Lane couldn’t take his eyes from her. The orgasm gripped her fiercely, shaking her entire body. Her hands closed tightly around

the sheets, her hips thrust and rose. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed and her