Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

looked dark and intense there in the night. "And I wanted you, very badly. I looked at you and knew I would have peace with you. You would give me peace."
    The night wind whispered around them. The fog muffled the other night sounds, its veils of white weaving in and out of the trees. Nicoletta's dark eyes searched his face carefully. "Have I done that for you? Have I given you peace, Giovanni?"
    He trailed his fingers down her soft skin, over the creamy swell of her breasts. "More than enough to last a lifetime. I thought your body would give me solace—a selfish thought, really—but you also light up my home, so my people smile now. I have heard singing and laughter where there was once only silence." He bent to kiss her lips, gently, tenderly. "You have changed my life, piccola, and I long to feel mio bambino growing in your belly." His fingers spread wide as if already holding the child beneath his palm. "The day cannot pass fast enough so that I can get to our bedchamber where you are waiting for me." His hand slipped lower to the tangle of dark, moist curls, pressing to feel the hot dampness. Giovanni's breath escaped in a long sigh of contentment. "I look into the coming years and know it will always be this way.
    The instant I see you, feel your body, touch you, I will want you again and again. It will never matter that we have just made love. I will grow hard and thick and heavy with my need."
    He slid two fingers into her tight channel and felt the instant rush of damp heat that welcomed him. He bent his head to the waiting tip of her breast, his mouth suckling, his fingers gliding in and out of her until her muscles clenched with fiery need. Catching up his shirt, he placed it on the fallen log and then lifted her easily, backing her up until her bottom rested on the shirt. He took her feet, carefully placing them near the log so she was open and vulnerable to his invasion.
    "Again?" Nicoletta's breath was coming in gasps. "You want me again?" She had to brace herself with her arms.
    "So much that I am going up in flames, cara." He caught her to him, pinning her hips so he could thrust forward, bury himself deep.
    This time she could see his face, the lines etched deep, the hot intensity in his eyes, their bodies coming Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    together in a dance of passion and heat. She moved with him, finding his rhythm, urging him to longer, deeper strokes, wanting to take him so deep he would find shelter in her soul. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing tightly against him, so he was rocking into her, so they were one.
    Nicoletta watched his face, his every expression, the shadows, the joy, each nuance. She wanted his pleasure to be every bit as intense as her own. He was very giving, ensuring her fulfillment before his own, taking care, no matter how strongly he surged into her, no matter how violent his passion, that his hands were gentle and she suffered no discomfort other than the torment of the building fire within. Of the coiling heat winding tighter and tighter until she exploded with it, taking him with her.
    Nicoletta stared up at him, astonished by the magnitude of their joining. He was a man of great power, of enormous strength, and yet he was always so tender with her. His expertise never made her feel inadequate. She found herself smiling up at him. "I think I need to sleep, Giovanni. Right here, right now.
    You've worn me out."
    He gathered her to him, and her feet touched the ground, something real and solid. His strong body was still trembling, his heart beating loud and strong beneath her ear. "You want to sleep out here? Under the stars? I would not want you to take ill." The fog brought with it the salt mist from the ocean.
    She nestled against him. "I am with you. Nothing can harm me."

Chapter Eighteen
    Nicoletta looked around her, searching for her clothes. The fine sea spray was clinging to her hair, curling it into long spirals around her shoulders. "Do you ever get tired of being the don?" she asked. "So many petitioners coming to you with their problems, expecting you to solve everything to their satisfaction?" She tilted her head to one side, her hair sliding over her breasts. "And how is it you became the don at so young an age? What happened to your padre?" She preferred he tell her everything here in the open, with the sound of the waves crashing to shore and the wind carrying his words out to