Her gaze jumped to his and she couldn’t look away. He could seduce her so easily, and yet she’d offered herself to him and he had rejected her completely. She knew women came easily to him. He was in every glossy magazine, photographed with models and actresses on his arm. He went to charity events and parties, and women were all over him. The paparazzi managed to capture his life almost daily.
The paparazzi hung around the Ferraro Hotel and the Ferraro territory as well as anywhere any of the Ferraro family might be in order to capture pictures of them, especially if they might be able to get them in compromising situations. Taviano was the last eligible bachelor, the last single Ferraro brother, and women flocked around him, hopeful that he would choose one of them as his bride. He didn’t date. He didn’t even hook up for a night, at least no photographs had proven that lately, so he seemed to be pursued all the more, as if he had a secret life and the world was determined to uncover what it was.
“What does that mean?” She managed to choke out the question. Because what did it mean? She had been totally humiliated that night. She’d thrown herself at him and he had rejected her.
There had been kissing. So hot. He’d devoured her. She hadn’t known anyone could kiss like that. She’d thought she knew what kissing was. She’d thought she could control sex, but she’d suddenly realized she knew nothing at all about it. Taviano had kissed her like she was someone special. Someone who meant something to him. He had held her with care. His mouth had been gentle, but firm. He had taken control, leading her, not the other way around. Then things had just spiraled out of control.
She had shed clothes. She remembered that, offering him everything. Wanting him with every breath she took. She needed him to erase everything that had gone before. His mouth had done that, so hot, so strong, she hadn’t known her body could feel that way just with his mouth on her breast. His fingers on her nipple, his hair brushing over her skin. The way the bristles on his jaw rubbed along the curves of her breasts. She’d had the marks of that stubble, his teeth and fingers, for a night and a day, and she wanted them forever.
“It means I can still taste you. I go to bed with your taste on my tongue and wake up with it there. I ache thinking about you. It means you aren’t safe forever, so you’d best have your fun with your friends while you can, because you aren’t a child anymore.”
It was a declaration. A challenge. Maybe even a throwing down of a gauntlet. Nicoletta drew back in her seat, uncertain how to react. It was the last thing she expected him to say. He meant it, too. Taviano didn’t say things he didn’t mean. His blue eyes glittered at her until she held her breath, afraid of moving.
She sat for a long time trying to figure out what she was going to do. If Taviano really persisted in attempting to seduce her, he wouldn’t have to try too hard. She knew that. How could she ever forget what it felt like with his mouth on her? Traveling down her body? His tongue on her skin? His lips worshiping her? Then moving up between her thighs so slowly she wanted to scream. Nothing had ever prepared her for such a thing. She had no idea sex could make her body feel so good.
Then he had abruptly stopped. He’d pulled away, cursing. She’d chased after him, hands on his trousers, feeling his thick arousal, tugging on his zipper, desperate and determined to get at him. His hands had caught at her wrists and stopped her, pulling her off him. The moment he’d let go of her, she’d been back, knowing he was aroused, knowing he couldn’t hide that he wanted her. She’d known what she could do, that he wouldn’t be able to stop once she had her mouth on him, but he’d been furious with her, once again stopping her, giving her a little shake.
They’d exchanged words. Her taunting, trying to tempt him, using her body shamelessly, pointing out that he wanted her, trying to get to him with how good she could make him feel with her mouth, with her body. He had tried to stop her. Looking back, she was utterly humiliated remembering just how often, just how he had tried to dress her himself, the different ways he’d tried to defuse the situation between them.
She’d been so hurt and angry and drunk that she’d continued to escalate it. She could barely make herself face the things she’d said and done that night until he’d suddenly dragged her naked body right over his lap and delivered a spanking onto her bare bottom. It should have reduced her to a child. It should have humiliated her beyond reason. The last thing it should have been was erotic, and it had made her want to weep with need.