Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(48)

“No.” She barely managed the near-breathless whisper.

He stilled. And then released her. His brows drew together. “No?”

“If I’m naked, I want you naked too.” There had to be something, anything, to balance the power coursing between them.

His lips lifted in a half grin. “That can be easily accomplished.”

He stripped off his jeans and then the tight white briefs under them. His erection sprang free, and she gawked. So much for balancing power. She sat up and reached for him.

“No, Natasha. You mustn’t. Not yet. Relax. Let me give to you.”

The words were simple. And his soft accent made them sound like the seductive refrain of a vampire. But what he asked her to do? Not so simple.

She couldn’t tell him she wasn’t used to anyone giving to her. That she feared letting go. And she couldn’t believe she was in bed with a man who used a word like mustn’t. The thought made her giggle.

“I love that sound.”

“What sound?”

“Your laugh.”

He pressed her back against the bed.

“Let go, Natasha. Just let go. Please. Trust me.”

She loved the sound of her name coming from his lips. His please was no gentle request. Though she knew she had a choice, she really didn’t. The vast sea of bliss, of the aching desire that was its insistent song, would not be tamed. Her body, her soul and her heart overruled the cautions of her mind.

He slipped her panties down her legs, and his fingers tattooed her desire deeper into her core. He kissed the inside of her knee, then her thigh. The faint stubble of his beard abrading against her as he planted warm kisses higher and higher made her shiver. But then she felt his lips against her mound, pressing into her flesh, firmly, as if to tell her he wouldn’t be denied. His tongue circled but didn’t touch the place she most wanted it to. When he circled again, she knew he was teasing her. His fingers parted her, opening her to him. When he closed his lips around her pulsing, most sensitive spot, the moan that escaped her was a far cry from a giggle. He circled his tongue again, and she was sure she would die if she couldn’t catch her breath. His finger pressed into her. She didn’t die. Fear and hope and a strange, terrific ecstasy fired, each sensation melting into the next. She soared, shuddering and releasing. And to her surprise, she let go.





Natasha bucked against Adrian’s lips, arching again and again as his tongue found its mark. With a last gasp, she stiffened and then went limp, her warm bottom resting in his palms. He would’ve died if he hadn’t been able to release her into the bliss of pleasure. But never before had he come up against such a thick wall of fear. Of resistance. But he’d breached her wall, reached through it and taken her with him to the place he’d known she could go. He lifted his head and smiled into the darkness of his room.

Her hands stroked his hair, and she moved to sit up.

“No. Just float.”

“I want more than to float, Adrian. I want you.”

She sat up and before he could stop her, she’d wrapped her hand around his shaft. She tightened her grip, and his erection leaped under the pressure, with the wanting.

“Are you sure? We could wait until you’re more comfortable, until—”

She stroked the length of him, using her thumb to spread the bead of moisture at the tip. Like hell he could wait.

He levered her back onto the bed. Closing first one and then her other hand in his, he held them above her head. He dragged his erection up her thigh, savoring her shiver of anticipation. He pressed himself, teasing, at her opening.

“You’re sure?”

She bucked, trying to send him deeper. And though he wanted nothing more, he eased back onto his heels and slid to the edge of the bed. The drawer of his nightstand creaked as he reached in for a condom. There weren’t any. This wasn’t his bedroom in Rome. How long had it been? Too damned long. His brain raced. Maybe he had an old condom in his shaving kit.

“What are you doing?”

Her hair fell in soft dark curls around her face as she sat up. He bent down and kissed her lips, tweaking a nipple with his thumb and forefinger as he did. “Protection. I’ll be right back.”

He fumbled in the dark bathroom and then switched on a light, dimming it as low as it would go. He tore open his shaving kit and found two crinkled foil packets. He grabbed them both and returned to the bed. She knelt in the middle, a slant of light from the bathroom falling across her face. Her lips were full, swollen from their kisses, and made her look like a dark angel sent from a sensuous, heavenly realm. He groaned and pulled her into his arms. And knew in that moment that he never, ever wanted anyone else to share his bed. He craved the day when he could tell her, but that admission would have to wait until her trust in him grew.

She eased the foil packets from his hands.

“Were you thinking of using these, or are you going to frame them?”

Without waiting for his answer, she dropped one packet to the bed and tore the other open. She started to roll it onto him, and that was when he knew—she had little experience with men. With condoms. For all her bravado, the trembling in her hands wasn’t only from the aftermath of pleasure. He closed his fingers over hers.

“Let me show you,” he said softly.

He rolled the condom down his shaft, tweaking the reservoir at the tip. If the force of their kisses had shown him anything, he’d need that space when he came, because he’d be coming damn hard. And if she didn’t release her hands from him, he’d be coming sooner than he wanted.