The Italian's Forbidden Virgin (Mills & Boon Modern) (Those Notorious Romanos, Book 2) Carol Marinelli (ebook reader with built in dictionary .TXT) 📖

looked me in the eye. You know how your mother called me a beggar? Well, I was one. I walked the streets at night, just for conversation, for contact...’

Her stomach clenched in fear at the thought of a child out there alone.

‘They didn’t even notice or care that I was gone. You want the truth, Ariana? I wanted to disappear...’

She couldn’t breathe. So passionate was his revelation that there was not even the space to take in the air her lungs craved.

‘No!’ she refuted. It wasn’t that she thought he lied, more that she could not bear his truth.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘so while I have never known love, I know what it looks like, and I know how much you were wanted and loved...’

They were the words she was desperate to hear, but she wanted to hear them from him. She was so desperate that she managed to twist her mind to pretend that Gian was saying he wanted her, that he loved her.

‘Gian...’ His name was a sob, a plea that she could hold onto the dream that those words were for her. Ariana honestly did not know who initiated their kiss but it was as if he read her cry in his name. For a man who knew nothing of love, he knew a lot about numbing pain. The room went dark then as their mouths melded, hot angry kisses to douse the pain. As his mouth bruised hers, as their teeth clashed, Ariana reacted with an urgency she had never known.

She kissed him as if it were vital.

And Gian kissed her to a place where only they remained. His hands were deft, shedding her jacket and lifting her top, pushing his hands up and caressing her breasts through her flimsy bra, his palms making her skin burn, then leaving her smouldering as he tackled her skirt.

He scalded her with desire, his hands hitching up her skirt so impatiently that she heard the lining rip. And Ariana, who had thought desire moved more slowly, could not begin to comprehend that she might simply seize what she craved.

He offered oblivion in the salty taste of his skin as she undid his shirt and buried her face in him. He offered escape as she unbuckled his belt and trousers.

‘Ariana,’ he warned, for he had not come for this. He had come to offer more, yet it was a poor attempt at a protest for he was lifting her onto the bench and tearing at her knickers as their mouths found each other again.

She had not known that the world could feel empty and soulless one moment and then find herself wrapped in his arms and drowning in the succour he gave.

He spread her thighs and she let out a shout as he pushed inside her. It was not a cry of pain but of relief, for here she could simply escape and be.

‘Please,’ she sobbed, because she never wanted it to end, yet they were both building rapidly to a frantic peak.

The glass she had slammed down spilled and her bottom was cold and wet, but it barely registered. There was only him, crashing against her senses again and again, a mass exodus of hurt as he touched her deep inside and somehow soothed the pain.

‘Gian!’ It was Ariana who offered a warning now, for she was trembling on the inside, her thighs so tight it felt like cramp. A sudden rush of electricity shot down her spine and she clenched around him, dizzied by her own pulses, and she was rewarded with his breathless shout.

They were both silent and stunned as their breathing gradually calmed. Ariana was grateful for the empty space between her thoughts. It was the first time she had felt even a semblance of quiet since her phone had shot her awake that morning. Gian too was silent, somewhat reeling at his own lack of control, for he had come here to speak, to talk, to offer Ariana comfort...

Now, though, he lowered her down from the bench and tidied himself. Ariana twisted the waistband on her skirt so the damp patch was at the side, and she even smoothed her hand over her hair, as if order could somehow be resorted.

Except it was chaos, Ariana knew, for she had made love to him again.

She had convinced herself, once again, that Gian might one day change and want her the way she wanted him.

‘Ariana.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t come here—’

‘What did you come here for then?’ she interrupted. ‘A chat?’

‘Yes,’ Gian said, as the blood crept back to his head. ‘A proposal.’

She looked at him with wide, nervous eyes, for this was new territory to Ariana. How one moment they could be locked in an intimate embrace, and the next attempting to speak as if his seed wasn’t trickling down between her thighs. ‘A proposal?’

He nodded. ‘I thought a lot about what you said yesterday, and you’re right, Ariana, I do avoid emotion...’ He smiled a pale smile. ‘Which is impossible around you.’

She swallowed, unsure where this was leading, but hoping...

Hoping!

‘What you said about moving...’ Gian ventured.

‘I meant,’ Ariana said, ‘I’m not going to live in an apartment my mother feels entitled to use as a second lounge.’ Her decision was crystal clear now. ‘I want to take the Romano name off for a while. I want to work on myself.’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘I want to actually work...’

‘I get that,’ Gian agreed. ‘And, as I said, I have a proposal for you. Fiordelise Florence hotel opens at the end of May. What if you do your training here, and then work as Guest Services Manager there?’

‘Sorry?’ Ariana frowned, though clearly not for the reason he was thinking.

‘I know I said you would start as an assistant, but I agree, you have an exceptional skill set and would be an asset.’

‘Your proposal is a job.’

‘More than a job,’ Gian said.

‘A career then?’

‘No!’ She was missing the point, Gian thought. Though he could understand