A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [9]
‘Careful!’ The single word shivered over her skin.
Would he kiss her now? Terrie wondered, the question flaring so swiftly in her mind, burning so fiercely that she felt sure that Gio must see it in her eyes and recognise her need in an instant. And it was that need that stunned her, shaking her rigid because she had never felt anything like it before in her life.
Oh, she had been attracted to men, obviously, in her past. She had even come close to wondering if she was in love. But nothing had lasted. Nothing had taken root and settled and flowered into something greater, something stronger, something…
Something permanent?
Just the thought shocked her rigid.
No, she had to be kidding. Had to be fooling herself. Jumping in feet first where someone wiser and more thoughtful would hold well back. Feelings like that didn’t just hit home and set in the space of a couple of seconds. They took time to grow, to develop and become a vital part of you. They came with knowledge and understanding and she knew little enough about this Giovanni Cardella—and understood less.
‘Th-thank you.’
She didn’t know if it was the stumble or the realisation of what she was feeling that put the tremor into her voice. She only knew that she needed to touch him—really touch him! Feel that smooth olive skin without the barrier of his jacket or hers in between.
And so she lifted her hand, raising it to his face. And let her fingers rest against his cheek, lying along the hard line of his jaw, supremely sensitive to the warmth of his flesh, the power of bone, the faint roughness where the hairs of his beard lay just below the surface of his skin.
‘Thank you,’ she said again, amazed that this time her voice sounded stronger when inside her stomach the nerves were twisting themselves into tight, painful knots, squeezing harder and harder with each breath she took.
‘Di niente. No problem.’
His hand touched hers again, pressing it softly against his cheek. Then his fingers closed around hers, lifting them, turning them so that he was looking straight down on to the delicate tips, the oval-shaped, shell-pink painted nails.
‘No problem,’ he murmured again, but with a very different intonation this time. One that Terrie struggled to interpret.
But, even as she was reaching mentally for the indecipherable note in his voice, he moved again, and this time he blew her thought process right out of focus. He lifted the hand he held; lowered his head towards it. And when his mouth and her fingers met he pressed a long, lingering kiss first on their tips and then, slowly and sensually, all the way to the back of her hand.
‘Gio…’
His name was just a sigh from her lips, faint as a breath, and she was stunned and bewildered to find that sudden tears stung her eyes. Tears of confusion and delight. Of almost fearful sensitivity to each and every movement that this man made.
Did he know what he was doing to her? Did he realise that, when she was used to the fumbling, clumsy, grabbing advances of men closer to her own twenty-four years, his gentleness, his gallantry—his courtship—were infinitely more seductive than any more passionate approach?
A moment before, she had longed for his kiss. The image of him taking her mouth in passion had flared in her mind like the blaze of lightning. But he had kissed her hand, and the delicacy of the gesture, the gentleness of his touch, had had so much more power over her feelings than any more overt approach.
‘I’d love to have dinner with you,’ she managed, needing to say something to show him a touch of what she was feeling, and yet afraid to let him in fully. To reveal just how deeply he had affected her.
His smile was swift, flashing on and off with the speed of a neon sign.
‘I thought we’d already agreed on that.’
This was going exactly the way he wanted it, Gio reflected as he took her arm to lead her out of the bar and towards the ornate glass doors into