The Amalfi Bride - Page 93

“You’ll never get impatient with me for keeping you waiting because I can’t decide what earrings I should wear or because I’ve lost my keys. Did I ever tell you I lose my keys all the time? We won’t fuss because I spend too much money on clothes or furniture. I like to shop—I think I told you that. I buy the most atrocious things at flea markets and garage sales—horrible purple sofas for a dollar with the stuffing coming out.”

“Shut up.”

“We can always imagine our children would have been perfect, dark-haired angels with enchanting dispositions, little prodigies who potty trained at one. And our sons will be…virile, athletic and great scholars.”

He put a fingertip against her lips, and she stopped herself at last.

“Sorry, I’m babbling.”

“How could your babies be anything other than darling little prodigies or our sons anything but pint-size studs?”

“You don’t know what I was like as a kid,” she teased.

“I was a bit of a handful myself. Two nannies were assigned to me.”


“I’m an aristocrat. It comes with the territory.”

“From having that supersize appendage?”

“Would you stop it with that? I was always scaling the castle walls, flying kites off them. After I nearly dived off a parapet to reach one kite I lost, I was confined to the nurseries and the gardens with my two nannies or with Tiberio.”


“I owe my life to my family’s majordomo, Tiberio Abruzzi. I was awfully hard on all the antiques, too. By the time I was eighteen, every time I sat down, priceless brocade tore and fourteenth-century gilt wood shattered. Pieces were constantly having to be restored.”

“I really had better take that shower.”

“With me, remember?”

When she raced into the bath and turned on the hot water, he followed her inside the steamy, white-tiled cubicle.

When he closed the door, her nipples brushed his arm. She giggled because of the tightness of the space and the immense size of his dark body.

“There’s no way to move without touching you.”

He cupped her breasts, and she shivered.

“Exactly,” he whispered, lowering his mouth and sucking each nipple until they were as hard as berries.

“You keep accusing me of being bossy. Now I have to live up to that. Stand against the wall, Your Highness.”

When he stayed where he was, she placed her hand squarely against his chest and pushed him backward.

“Hell, nobody calls me that,” he muttered.

“Spread your legs, Your Highness!”

When his legs moved apart, she sank to her knees and looked up at the coils of dark hair and at his other, impressive stuff, playfully, as warm water streamed over her head. Without a word, her hand circled his huge, erect organ.

“Definitely, it’s Your Highness,” she said.

He growled low in his throat.

“Maybe we should call you Your Bigness,” she said as she buried her face against his groin. “Or Your Hugeness.”

“I’m almost beginning to like Your Highness.”

Then she began to lick him, up and down and all around. With every delicate stroke, he grew harder and tighter and bigger until, finally, he burst in her mouth.

He began to whisper to her in Italian.

“How I love it when you speak Italian.”

“How I love it when you do the things you do.”

Very tenderly he lifted her up. Encircling her with his arms, he held her close against his chest for a long time.

“Good thing the hotel is five star.” He turned off the faucets and opened the shower door.

“What?” She felt as limp as a noodle as he toweled her off.

“The hot water never gets cold.”

“I wouldn’t think you, being a prince, would know anything about running out of hot water.”

“Four-hundred-year-old castles leave a lot to be desired.”

She brushed her teeth while he watched, which was kind of nice and almost as intimate as the sex. He observed her darken her brow with a pencil and put on mascara, too.

She opened her lipstick and whirled on him. “I’m going to mess up if you don’t go.”

When he didn’t budge, she couldn’t stop staring at His Bigness, which caused prickles of heat to climb her spine.

“I like knowing what you do in the morning to put yourself together,” he said.

“I want you to think I’m a natural beauty.”

He leaned against the doorjamb.

“Would you just go? Or at least put on a towel. My hand is shaking.”

“Hot for me again?”

She forced her attention away from His Bigness.

“No! What I am is starved…for breakfast.” And she was. Much to her surprise, she really was.