“You’re welcome,” she said, her soft brown eyes moving over his face.
His gaze narrowed. “There’s nine of them,” he said distractedly.
She raised her eyebrows in a query.
“Nine freckles on your nose,” he clarified.
“I hate every one of them,” she said, rolling her eyes and covering her nose with her hand.
He sat up partially, turning her in his arms so that she lay pinned beneath him. Her hand fell away in her surprise at his abrupt action. “I love every one,” he growled ominously. He kissed her nose repeatedly, stilling her wriggling, the sound of her laughter making him smile. “One kiss for each adorable freckle,” he said before he leaned down and tasted her lips. She was so sweet. Everywhere, he thought as his tongue dipped into her mouth. He’d like to kiss her like that in the soft bed forever, with the refreshing breeze cooling him, desire banked but glowing inside him like a warm ember that would leap back into a flame at any moment. When he lifted his head a moment later, her liquid brown eyes had gone sober as she looked up at him.
“I know what you meant now,” she whispered breathlessly. “When you said once that you could do exactly what you did to Astrid to me, and it would be completely different.”
A pain went through him at the idea of her still thinking about what she’d seen in that armoire. He meant what he’d said earlier. If only he could erase that night from her memory. If only he could eradicate it from his. He realized he was so caught up in his shame about what she
’d seen that perhaps he hadn’t fully understood her.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his fingers brushing against the delicate line of her jaw. “Don’t tell me you thought that”—he glanced in the direction of the bench—“was remotely like what you saw that night.”
“No. It wasn’t. That’s my point,” she said softly. “I mean, some of the actions might have been similar, but . . .” She faded off, seeming to struggle with finding the right words.
“I was making love to you, Emma,” he said starkly, exposing himself in an uncommon way because he hated to see her uncertainty. “I know I told you I wasn’t cut out for the long term, and then you set the time limit on our time together. Maybe you think that means that what we do together doesn’t matter, in any lasting sense . . . that it’s just sex. Just gratification. I disagree. I could be doing the kinkiest thing in the world to you, and I’d still be making love to you,” he said, trailing his finger over her flushed cheek. He saw amazement creep across her expression and raised his eyebrows. “Do you understand?” he asked, stroking her temple and the shell of her ear and relishing her tiny shiver.
“Yes,” she whispered before she touched his cheek, her simple caress and the expression in her eyes sweeter to him than anything he could ever recall in his life.
Chapter Thirty
Emma was not thrilled at the idea of rising from the comfortable bed and leaving Vanni’s arms in order to prepare for the dinner at the Hôtel Le Maj. The only consolation she had was that Vanni seemed just as reluctant to leave bed as she was.
“At least after the race on Sunday, I’ll have you all to myself for nearly a week,” he told her later as they stood in the bathroom together, naked and entwined. He kissed her softly and she felt herself melting against his solid, warm length. His open hand trailed over her ass and she shivered. “Are you sore?” he asked, breaking their kiss but still nibbling at her lips.
She shook her head, brushing her mouth against his. “It stings a little.” She glanced up at him humorously. “Certainly enough for me to think about it all night . . . again and again. That was your plan, right?”
His smile was a wry flash of brilliance. “Great. I set myself up for that one. Now I’ll be thinking about it all night, too, knowing you are.” He ducked his head, kissing her again, his hunger palpable. He grimaced when he stepped away a moment later. “I’d like to shower with you, but it’ll lead to other things.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“No, it sounds fantastic,” he said grimly. “Too fantastic, because we’re running late. I’ll go and shower and get ready in the room next door.” He released her and stalked toward the bathroom door. She just stood there for a moment, befuddled by the vision of his long legs, strong back, and jaw-dropping ass. He opened the door and passed through it.
“Wait!”
He paused and looked around the edge of the door.
“What should I wear? I mean . . . how formal is this dinner?” she asked.
“It’s black-tie.”
She nodded. He gave her a small smile and walked out of the bathroom.
With him gone, it was admittedly easier to attend to the task of getting ready. With him gone, it was also easier to feel a few flutters of nervousness at the idea of attending a glamorous, high-profile dinner with the world’s racing elite. Luckily, their lovemaking—not to mention some of the sweet things Vanni had said afterward—went a long way to shield her from too much anxiety. The vision of the way he’d looked at her while they lay in bed together just now—I was making love to you—went a long way to armor her against worries.
The flush of her cheeks and brightness of her eyes didn’t dissipate much after she’d showered and blow-dried her hair. When she left the bathroom, Vanni was nowhere to be seen. She recovered the rest of the items that Cristina had left her from the trunk and carried them to the closet. A feeling of warmth and gratitude swept through her yet again when she finally fingered the full array of dresses and other items that had been in the trunk. It was almost like the older woman was her fairy godmother, assuring her she would not only belong at the ball, but shine at it.
Heartened by the thought and by Vanni’s focused lovemaking, she chose a dress that was meant to be worn by a sexually confident woman, a female who was comfortable in her own skin. She thanked Cristina mentally yet again as she found some shoes and accessories to go with it.
Fifteen minutes later she examined herself in the bathroom mirror. Cristina had been right. They must have been the exact same size at the time Cristina had bought the dress. Emma had chosen a stunning teal green halter dress that emphasized her coloring nicely, but did absolutely amazing things for her figure. It clung to her curves like it’d been tailor-made, making her waist look especially small and her breasts more . . . significant. It managed to look sinfully sexy while still being elegant, Emma thought with amazement as she studied herself. She’d had no idea she possessed such an hourglass figure. She’d combed her hair behind her ears in a simple style and wore only a pair of dangling gold chandelier earrings and the Prisatti angel along with a pair of fierce black pumps. Her eye makeup was good, considering Emma had done it and not Amanda, making her eyes look large and smoky.
She turned and looked over her shoulder, flushing with pleasure and sheer amazement at what the dress did for her hips and ass. No wonder stars and models always looked so fantastic, if they could afford to buy dresses like this one. Her bottom felt tingly and slightly abraded beneath the fitted fabric of the dress. Vanni had accomplished what he wanted. She’d be thinking about those exciting, illicit moments with him all night.