A Whisper of Disgrace(23)
Levelly, she met his gaze. ‘Are you going to spend all your time denigrating women?’
‘Not all my time, no.’ His smile was edged with pure danger. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with something more exciting to fill our time.’
‘Because …’ She didn’t want to let this go. She didn’t want him to keep making comparisons—because wouldn’t that just tap into her crippling certainty that she was going to disappoint him? That he had signed up for something and was going to get something completely different. ‘I’m sure your knowledge of women is comprehensive—it’s just a little off-putting if you’re going to keep reminding me of the fact.’
‘I’m sure your knowledge of men is equally comprehensive, Rosa.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘I doubt it. I’ve yet to meet a woman who surprises me.’
Rosa gave a little shake of her head. What a cynic he was. Shouldn’t she have tried to hook up with someone softer—and kinder? Someone who wouldn’t have whirled into her life like a very sexy tornado. The plane engines began to flare into life and suddenly she started to laugh—the unexpected sound taking her by surprise because it seemed a long time since she’d laughed at anything.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Everything.’ She looked at him. ‘Within the space of a few short hours I’ve become the kind of person who steps onto a private jet with a man I don’t really know—a man I’m going to marry. I’m going to be a princess and I’m going to live in Paris and I don’t have a clue what my life will be like. It just doesn’t …’ Her voice trailed off as she met his eyes and shrugged. ‘It just doesn’t feel real, that’s all.’
Once again, Kulal saw that fleeting look of vulnerability—the one which didn’t match the sensual lips and hedonist’s body. The one which was making his gut twist with an inexplicable unease. ‘If it’s any consolation, it feels pretty bizarre to me too,’ he said flatly as the irony of the situation hit him—not for the first time.
He should have been contemplating matrimony with a high-born royal from a neighbouring country but instead he found himself with Rosa Corretti, the daughter of a nefarious Sicilian family with a terrifying reputation. One who flaunted her body like a hooker, but who had since denied him all but the briefest kiss.
His mouth twisted into a hard smile. He could feel the exquisite hardening of an erection beneath the fine cloth of his Italian trousers and he shifted his body a little. Why should he have to wait a second longer to enjoy all the sensual possibilities which her beautiful body offered?
From the galley, the steward appeared with a tray and Kulal said something terse in his own language, so that the man set the drinks down on the table and then quickly disappeared.
Rosa saw the way that Kulal’s knuckles had suddenly clenched against the hard outline of his thighs. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘Something is very wrong.’ Turning to her, he lifted his hand to touch her face, his finger slowly tracing the outline of her lips. ‘You are driving me crazy, Rosa. I am aching to possess you and I cannot wait much longer.’
Rosa swallowed as he moved his hand downwards so that it was now lying directly over her breast and she wondered if he could feel the wild beat of her heart. His words were so … brazen. He made sex sound so straightforward—as if doing it and wanting it was perfectly natural—but she had no idea how to answer him, because she had been brought up to think that it was wrong and forbidden.
‘You are silent,’ he observed, his fingers now drifting down over her belly before coming at last to rest on her knee. ‘That is good. So often a woman destroys the mood of love with her inane chatter.’
Part of her wanted to scream at him for his arrogance, but no scream came—and how could it, when his hand had now drifted beneath the hem of her dress and she was holding her breath to see what he would do next?
His fingers began to slide upwards and Rosa’s eyes closed as desire began to flicker over her skin—a desire which was powerful enough to obliterate any lingering feelings of guilt. He was drawing little circles just above her knee and, while it was exciting her, it was also frustrating the hell out of her. She began to wish that he would touch her somewhere else—touch her where she was beginning to ache like crazy. And maybe her restless little wriggle told him that, because his fingers had now crept up to reach the bare skin of her thigh. The warmth coiling somewhere deep inside her began to spread over her whole body and she could hear the loud thunder of her heart. Her thighs seemed to be parting without any conscious action on her part, and she expelled a breath of disbelieving pleasure as his fingers brushed intimately against the searing heat of her sex.