“Yes,” she said, “oh, yes.”
He undid the fastener that held her bra closed and slipped it from her arms, then bent and kissed her naked breasts, biting gently at the aroused pink nubs until Caroline arched against him. He drew back and gave her a smile that made her blood thicken.
“Does it please you when I kiss your breasts, cara?” he murmured.
Her lashes fell to her cheeks. “You know it does,” she whispered.
“Look at me,” he said, and she did, slowly opening her eyes until they were fixed on his face. “I want to see into your soul while I make love to you, mia Carolina. I want to see the passion in your beautiful eyes when I touch you like this…”
She cried out as he lifted her hips and slid her panties from her. His fingertips brushed the inner flesh of her thighs, and suddenly he bent his head and pressed kisses to that most sensitive of soft flesh.
“Cristo,” he whispered, “ah, the scent of your skin, cara, the taste of it…”
Her arms went around him, and she held him tight. “Make love to me now, Nico,” she begged. “Please. Don’t wait. I need—I need—”
He growled something deep in his throat as he rose from the bed. His pants fell to the carpet, and then he was beside her again, his skin hot against hers as he kissed her and kissed her. He rose above her and looked at her, his gaze moving over her with slow, lingering care, tasting her parted lips, her upthrust breasts, her parted thighs. He caught her hands in his and drew them over her head so that she lay open and vulnerable to him.
His eyes met hers, and what she saw in those burning blue depths sent a wave of pure sensation racing through her.
It was conquest, male conquest, pure and unrepentant. But she didn’t resent it; she welcomed it, understood it, longed for it to make her complete.
“My Caroline,” he said fiercely, and, with a powerful thrust, he entered her.
A sob burst from her lips as the night exploded around her and in that one moment Caroline understood.
There was no conqueror and no conquered when there was love. And she loved him. Oh, God, how she loved him, with all her heart and soul. She had loved him forever, and she always would.
Nicolo cried out her name, then gathered her close and kissed her, holding her so tightly that she felt the thundering beat of his heart.
“You are everything,” he whispered fiercely. “Do you hear me, cara? You are everything!”
But she wasn’t. She was not everything.
How could she be, when she wasn’t the woman he loved?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NICOLO ROLLED to his side, still holding Caroline close, caressing her, his hand following the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast. He dropped light kisses against her hair and her flushed cheeks.
“Mia adorata,” he said against her mouth. “How beautiful you are.”
She sighed as he kissed her again. “That was—it was—”
“Yes. Oh, yes, cara. It was.”
They lay that way for long moments, until the race of their hearts slowed, and then Nicolo brought her head to his shoulder.
“Now I know you are not a dream,” he whispered. “You are real. And wonderful.”
Caroline pressed her lips to his chest. “You’re the one who’s wonderful.”
He laughed softly. “Shall we argue over who is the most wonderful?”
She smiled. It felt so right, lying here in his arms. It was as if she had been waiting all her life to find this man, this moment.
“Maybe we’d better agree it’s an argument no one can win,” she said.
Nicolo shifted his weight so that he lay above her. “You think not?”
She smiled up at him, while she ran her fingers lightly over his muscled shoulders and back. It was such a silly conversation, she thought happily, the sort only lovers could have.
“Is that a dare?”
He laughed, then kissed the tip of her nose. “Another American idiom, cara? What does it mean?”
“It means you’ve no way to prove me wrong, Nico. If I say you’re wonderful, and you say I’m wonderful, we’re at a stalemate.”
He stretched lazily, and she caught her breath as she felt the sudden hardening of his body against hers.
“I warn you, cara, there is only one way to settle this dispute.”
Caroline felt the sudden heat coursing through her blood. She smiled and let her hands drift down his spine to his buttocks.
“What way?” she whispered.
A long time later, they lay quietly in each other’s arms again.
“My tigress,” Nicolo murmured.
Caroline smiled into the darkness. “I think I won the argument,” she whispered.
He laughed and drew her closer. “Go to sleep. And then, when you’ve had a chance to recover from your victory, we’ll fight the battle again.”
Within moments, his breathing had slowed.
“Nico?” she said softly.
His arms tightened around her, but he didn’t stir. She smiled again, and turned her face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent. It was almost impossible to think that a couple of hours ago she’d have climbed on the rostrum in the Forum and denounced Prince Nicolo Sabatini to all of Rome.
He’s insolent and impossible, she’d have said. He’s arrogant and authoritarian. He’s stubborn and willful and…
She smiled into the darkness and slid her hand across his chest. And he was still all of those things. It was only that now, having finally admitted that she loved him, that she’d loved him almost from the moment they’d met, she was able to admit that it was those very same qualities that made him the man he was.
His arrogance made him virile and masculine, his stubbornness gave him the character to administer his centuries-old responsibilities. And, if there were times those qualities seemed exaggerated, she understood. The proud blood of generations of Romans pulsed in his veins, making him not just an ordinary man but Prince Nicolo Sabatini.
What woman wouldn’t fall in love with him? What woman wouldn’t want him?
The answer came with unwanted swiftness. Arianna, a voice inside her whispered. He had wanted Arianna, but she hadn’t wanted him.
Caroline shifted uneasily. Why was she thinking about Arianna at a time like this? She only wanted to think about Nicolo, about the way she felt lying here, in his arms.
A pink tinge colored her cheeks as she remembered the things he’d whispered to her while they’d made love. She had understood some of them; others had needed no translation. His caresses had urged her to a wild, uninhibited passion she’d never known she possessed—but it was the love she felt for him that had sent her into such a breathtaking completion.
And yet, there was a strange emptiness in her heart. She’d longed to hear him whisper that he loved her—but he hadn’t.
Had he whispered it to Arianna? Caroline shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the sudden image of Nicolo and a woman whose face she could not see. He was holding her, kissing her, touching her…
Her throat constricted with emotion. She sat up and swung her legs to the side of the bed. Nicolo muttered something in his sleep; his arm reached out, his hand closing possessively around her wrist. She held her breath, waiting, until the bite of his fingers lessened. Then she gathered up her scattered clothing and stole from the room.
She dressed swiftly, then slipped out the door from his apartment into the silence of the sleeping palazzo and tiptoed stealthily down the stairs. Safe in her own room, she collapsed wearily back against the door.
Making love with Nicolo, giving in to the desire that had overwhelmed her, had been a mistake. She should have left Rome as she’d planned, she should never have looked into her heart and discovered a truth that could destroy her. She’d fallen desperately in love with a man who wasn’t in love with her, a man who’d wanted her because she reminded him of a woman he wanted and couldn’t have.
It was as simple, and as painful, as that.
Caroline stepped from her shoes, then from her dress. She made her way across the room. There’d be no happy ending to this story of the handsome prince and the beautiful princess, she thought as she sank onto the bed. That only happened in fairy tales. This was Rome, where legends of ancient gods persisted. In those stories, the prince almost always turned out to be a god who sought earthly pleasure from his love only until he tired of her.
Caroline’s throat tightened. How soon would it be until her Prince felt the same way? She sank back against the pillows and threw her arm across her eyes. She had to leave today. Nicolo would be furious; she didn’t even want to think about the extent of his rage. But to stay, to lie in his arms and each time know that he was dreaming of another woman, would not just break her heart but shatter it.
She rolled onto her belly and clutched her pillow. Her hair fell across her face, and she thought she could detect the faint scent of Nicolo’s cologne lingering on the golden strands. She drew a deep, shuddering breath.
Nicolo, she thought, my love…
Eventually, she slept.
* * *
WHEN CAROLINE awakened, the sun was streaming in through the windows. She glanced at the bedside clock. There was just time to shower and dress before Lucia arrived, smiling shyly as she delivered the first cup of coffee of the new day.