Read The Italian for Free Online Page A

someone had flayed her alive, simply stripped away her skin, and what she felt was apparent to anyone. Certainly to this man. She was sure her pounding heart was visible. The blood that had rushed to her breasts and sex—surely he could see that too.
    This was where she’d step back and crack a joke. Or ask for a glass of wine or comment on the room.
    Instead, she was frozen in place, in time. Staring up at a man who aroused her so strongly she could barely feel her toes and fingers.
    “Help,” he whispered, leaning his forehead down against hers, eyes closed. “I have manners, I promise. My mother insisted. Let’s do that again. I stand up when you walk into the room, meet you halfway, kiss your hand. State once more how happy I am that you accepted my invitation. Ask how your day was.”
    “And I say how delighted I am to be here and say my day was fine, how was yours.” Jamie managed to smile, happy her throat had loosened enough to speak.
    His eyes opened and she lost her ability to speak again. His gaze was fierce, direct, eyes the color of a sword in moonlight. Dark gray, almost black, penetrating. His gaze dropped to her mouth and it was as sensuous as a kiss.
    “And I’ll say my day was fine. But that’s all for politeness,” he whispered, gaze meeting hers again. “When in truth I couldn’t concentrate on work. All I could think about all day was kissing you.”
    “Me too,” she whispered, brain too blasted to lie.
    She knew perfectly well how to handle men and rule number one was never to let them know when they affected you, never let them see you as anything but cool and detached. That rule flew past the gossamer curtains billowing in the air, right out those gorgeous French windows, straight past the garden below and up into the star-scattered sky.
    There was no question of hiding anything from this man. She seemed to have this primal connection to him that stripped her bare of all defenses.
    Any other man would have smiled at her confession. Men and women have a constant game going on, with points awarded to each side. What she’d just said awarded points to him. He didn’t look like he’d won points. At her words, the skin tightened over his cheekbones, his eyes narrowed, jaw muscles clenching.
    This time the kiss was hotter, deeper, darker.
    She fell into it as you fall into an abyss. His arms tightened around her, lifting her up into his kiss, mouths open, slanting for a deeper taste. Each stroke of his tongue against hers sent white-hot lightning throughout her body. She clung to his shoulders not in an embrace but in a desperate attempt to stay upright, though she couldn’t fall. Not right now. Not with those strong arms holding her tightly to him, so tightly she could feel the buttons of his shirt, the rough texture of his linen pants against her shins.
    His huge erect penis against her belly.
    He shifted his arms, pulling her backside even more tightly to his body, and she moved helplessly, rubbing against him. His cock swelled, a strong pulse she could feel against her, almost feel inside her, as her vagina contracted sharply in answer.
    Stefano lifted his head again. He looked as if he were in pain. Jaws so tight the muscles at the side of his face were clenched. His mouth was now wet from hers. He was breathing hard and she could feel that broad chest expanding and contracting. Everything she did to him was right there for her to read, in his face and in his body.
    Just as he could read so clearly what he did to her.
    He’d said it best.
    Help.

Chapter Four
     
    The woman was witchcraft. Had some magic potion. Not slipped into his drink but transferred by her mouth. Or maybe her skin had magic properties and touching her cast him under a spell. She’d done something to him, there was no doubt about that.
    He’d been perfectly serious when he said he’d thought about this all day. What she couldn’t possibly understand was how rare that was for him. Scratch rare. Unheard of. He