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Carlo turned back to the window. ‘You’d have a job to beat this view.’
‘Nice, isn’t it? They’ve converted so much of the Docklands area into housing and it’s a pretty good place to live.’ She glanced round her with satisfaction. She liked her flat. It was small, but it was cosy and homely and all hers. ‘Make the most of it. It’s pretty small now, but after tomorrow it’s going to get even smaller.’
‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ He moved away from the window and strolled towards her.
‘I’m buying my Christmas tree,’ she said proudly, ‘and it’s going to be big.’
‘Ah.’ He folded his arms across his chest and his sexy dark eyes twinkled at her. ‘So size matters to you?’
‘In Christmas trees, definitely.’ Zan was laughing at the innuendo and trying to control the frantic fluttering in her stomach. ‘I love everything about Christmas. I used to buy my tree on the first day of December, but the needles always fell off by Christmas Day and I got fed up with staring at decorated twigs so now I make myself wait. It’s an exercise in self-discipline. What about you? Do you like Christmas?’
He hesitated and then nodded. ‘I suppose so.’
‘But you’re sad because you won’t be at home this year?’ She tilted her head on one side and looked at him. ‘I know the feeling. I’m working this Christmas so I won’t be able to get home until New Year. But I’ve written my letter to Santa and he knows I’m here so all my presents should still arrive.’
He leaned broad shoulders against the wall and watched her, and she was breathlessly aware of how big he seemed in her tiny flat.
Big and male.
‘You’ve written to Santa?’
‘Of course! I’ve sent him my list. How else will he know what I want?’ She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Diamond earrings, cashmere jumper, silky underwear—you know the sort of thing.’
‘Diamond earrings?’ His gaze slid down to her torn jeans. ‘You don’t strike me as a diamond earrings sort of girl.’
‘Don’t judge by appearances. I’ve never been given the chance,’ she told him gloomily. ‘With four brothers my childhood was all rugby boots and Action Man. Every single Christmas I’d get the same stuff as them. Don’t get me wrong. My parents are great and I love them. But somewhere along the line they forgot I was a girl. I would have given anything for something pink and girly.’
He blinked. ‘Pink and girly?’
‘You know, something feminine. What about you? What do you want for Christmas?’
There was a long silence, and when he finally spoke his gaze was disturbingly direct. ‘You.’ He spoke the word softly and then paused, his dark eyes holding hers. ‘I want you, Zan.’
There was a hot, pulsing silence and she stared at him, her heart in her mouth and her palms damp.
His words shocked and excited her and for a moment she had no idea how to respond. The truth was she wanted him too, but the feeling scared her.
She’d only known him for one evening.
‘I don’t do one-night stands.’
‘Good.’ His dark eyes didn’t shift from hers. ‘I’m not interested in just one night.’
She looked into those stunning dark eyes and felt her insides tumble. Suddenly overwhelmed by his directness and the intensity of her own feelings, she jumped to her feet and looked at him nervously.
He was so different from the men she normally mixed with. They seemed younger somehow. More boyish. But there was nothing boyish about Carlo. He was all man. A man who knew exactly what he wanted and went straight for it.
And she couldn’t forget the way he kissed.
‘Where did you come from?’ She wrapped her arms around her middle defensively. ‘I mean, one minute my life is thoroughly predictable and full of men who bore me to tears and then the next…’
He lifted a dark eyebrow and prompted her gently, his Italian accent suddenly pronounced, ‘The next?’
Her heart was hammering in her chest. She didn’t know which was sexier, the tone of his voice or the look in his eyes. ‘The next I find myself lying on the pavement, kissing a total stranger.’
‘Is that a complaint?’ His dark eyes teased her and her breath came in little pants.
‘Not exactly. I’m just not used to kissing in the street in front of an audience.’
‘But now we have no audience.’ He gave a smile that sent her pulse racing and she lost her nerve and took a step backwards.
‘Do you want coffee?’
‘No.’ He moved towards her, standing so close she could feel the warmth from his body against hers.
Zan’s heart was pounding frantically. Just remembering what his kiss had felt like was enough to make her knees start to tremble. He was breathtakingly attractive.
But she shouldn’t be kissing men she didn’t know.
Her eyes dropped to his mouth and her lips parted in breathless anticipation.
Or maybe she should.
Still unsure, she gave him a nervous smile. ‘I still haven’t put ice on your eye.’
‘Right now it isn’t my eye that needs the ice.’ He pulled her against him and lowered his head, their breath mingling as his mouth hovered above hers.
She shivered with expectation, waiting for him to kiss her, the excitement and anticipation stealing every breath from her body. His lips brushed hers, teasing her lightly, and he gave her a wicked smile, fully aware of the tension he was creating between them.
And then finally he kissed her properly.
And this time the kiss was different.
What they’d shared on the pavement had been exploratory and fun, but this—this was a purposeful seduction, and Zan realised immediately that if this was how kissing could feel then she’d never been kissed before.
Carlo kissed as though he’d invented excitement. The touch of his mouth was a wholly sexual experience that swamped her inexperienced body with unfamiliar sensations of such intensity that she squirmed against him in a purely female plea for satisfaction.
His mouth still on hers, he lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck and then pulled her hard against him, his tongue delving into her mouth with devastating thoroughness, encouraging her more hesitant response.
It was the most intimate experience of her life. The skilled sweep of his tongue, the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her and the pounding of her heart against her breastbone.
She breathed in his scent, felt the roughness of his jaw against her, tasted his maleness and felt overwhelmed by a fevered desperation that defied logic.
His touch was totally addictive and when he finally dragged his mouth away from hers she sucked in some air, so shaken by her own reaction that she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye.
She’d never been kissed by anyone as skilled as him before.
He slid his strong fingers through her hair and tilted her head so that she was forced to look at him.
His dark eyes shimmered with raw hunger, but he veiled it quickly and gave a lopsided smile.
‘I don’t think we’d better do that for too long, cara mia,’ he said dryly. ‘We might both explode.’
Totally blown away by his kiss, Zan tried to speak and failed.
He touched her cheek with a gentle finger. ‘You know what?’ He was totally relaxed and easy with himself. ‘I could really do with taking a shower. My jeans are soaked because someone threw me on my back in a puddle.’
She loved the way he took the seriousness out of every situation. ‘You’re joking! Who would do an evil thing like that?’
‘I can’t imagine, but when I track them down they’re going to be punished.’ He pulled her against him and gave her another lingering kiss. ‘Maybe we should get out of these wet clothes before we both freeze. Can I put my jeans in your tumble-drier and take a shower?’
She nodded and gestured towards the kitchen. ‘It’s through there. Help yourself.’
His eyes were very dark. ‘Are you going to join me?’
No.
Resolving to be more daring was all very well, but you couldn’t change the habit of a lifetime in an hour!
It was all too fast.
Zan shook her head and he gave her a warm smile and strolled into her kitchen, emerging moments later with an apologetic look on his face and his jeans dangling from one hand.
‘I don’t know how to use a tumble-drier.’
Carlo’s humble confession broke the ice and she laughed, trying not to look at his tanned, strong legs. He had an incredible physique—athletic and powerful.
No wonder the muggers had run.
‘More of the macho Italian guy stuff, I suppose? Who does your washing at home? Or maybe I shouldn’t ask that question.’
‘I have a housekeeper,’ he told her, and she walked over to him and took the wet jeans out of his hand, still keeping her eyes averted.
‘Well, she hasn’t trained you very well.’ She popped them into the tumble-drier, turned the dial and started the machine. ‘I assume you know how the shower works, or does your housekeeper do that bit, too?’
His midnight-dark eyes gleamed wickedly. ‘I’m OK with the shower, but I’ve never really got the hang of undressing myself.’
No man should be allowed to have a smile that sexy. It had a lethal effect on her pulse-rate.
‘Well, if you don’t want another black eye you’d better learn quickly,’ she said, ignoring his laughter and hurrying past him. ‘I’ll fetch you a towel.’
The shower was running by the time she returned with the towel and she half opened the door and talked through the crack.
‘I’ll leave the towel on the floor.’
‘Pardon?’ His voice was muffled from the water and she leaned in slightly further, averting her eyes from the shower cubicle.
‘I said I’ll leave the towel on the floor.’
‘I can’t hear you.’
She sidled in a bit further and strong arms grabbed her and hauled her under the steaming jet of water.
‘You pig!’ Laughing and squealing, she thumped him hard, spluttering and screwing up her eyes against the water. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Economising on water.’ He was laughing, too, and she gasped as he pulled her close and kissed her, ignoring the water that was raining down on both of them.
She leaned into him and kissed him back, and suddenly the laughter stopped and the kissing intensified until their mouths fused hungrily, the chemistry a living, powerful force between them.
Her whole body was singing with excitement and suddenly she was breathlessly aware of his arousal and the fact that he was totally naked.
An unbearable ache was building between her thighs, but when she felt his fingers on the zip of her soaked jeans she reached down and grabbed his hands, stopping him.
What was she doing?
His skill and experience had her at flashpoint in seconds, but the speed with which he could reduce her to a shivering mass of desperation made her nervous. She’d only ever kissed boys before and Carlo certainly wasn’t that. He was a fully adult male and he wasn’t playing games.
‘Wait—it’s too fast…’ The water was streaming over her hair and down her back and he reached out a hand to stem the flow, speaking softly to her in Italian as he held her against him.
‘You want me to stop?’ He switched to English and she struggled to control her response.
‘Yes— No…’ She was shaking against him and he gave a groan and slid a warm hand over her back.
‘Have you any idea how much I want you?’
Zan gave him a shaky smile, breathlessly aware of his masculinity. He had a fantastic body. His confidence with his own sexuality was in complete contrast to her own inexperience and she felt completely out of her depth.
From the moment she’d stared into his eyes in the snowy street she’d decided that even if she only had sex once in her whole life, she wanted it to be with this man. But now that the moment had come she felt hideously unsure.
Carlo probably thought that any woman who was prepared to kiss him in a public place was equally experienced and relaxed about sex.
She was still panicking when she felt a warm, soft towel draped around her shoulders.
‘Take off your wet jeans and go and put on your least provocative outfit,’ Carlo said, his voice infinitely gentle as he stepped back and let her step out of the shower.
She bit her lip and looked at him anxiously. ‘I…thought we were going to…’
‘Well, we’re not,’ he said softly. ‘At least, not yet. You’re not totally sure and I want you to be totally sure.’
She hesitated and shook her head, painfully self-conscious. ‘It’s just a bit fast. I don’t know you— I can’t—’
‘So we slow it down.’
He made it sound perfectly simple and she looked at him shyly, surprised that he wasn’t more annoyed with her. ‘And you’re OK with that?’
‘Well, I’ll need a lot of cold showers,’ he admitted ruefully, ‘but we’ve already agreed that if I step out of line you can black my other eye, so I’ll do my best to hold back as long as I can. Now, go and get dressed quickly.’
When Zan arrived back in the sitting room Carlo had the towel wrapped around his hips, his black hair damp and tousled from the shower as he flicked through her CD collection.
