Chapter 12.1

He wallowed in the lush feel and provocative taste of her magnificent breasts, grazed his mouth over her stomach, revelling in the erotic spasms of muscles responding to the trail of warm kisses and the sensual sweep of his tongue. He reached the apex of her thighs, felt the quiver of her legs as he moved in to savour and caress the most hidden parts of her sex. The moist heat of her was intoxicating, her responsive excitement addictive.

"Alex, please..." Fingers tugging at his hair, her body arching, yearning. "I need you now...now..."

Her words were like trumpets ringing in his ears as he surged up and over her, bringing himself to meet and answer her plea, elated by her need, and with the first exultant plunge deep inside her, the soar of his own pleasure was intense. They moved together in a rhythm that focused all his energy on feeling this sweet innermost part of her, the melting waves that clutched at him, squeezing, releasing. He concentrated on taking himself as far as this union would allow, revelling in the sheer ecstasy of pushing her to climax after climax, rolling through them, loving the throaty little cries, the erotic sounds of her pleasure, until finally, finally, he could not contain the driving rush of his own need, the fierce seizure of muscles that demanded release.

He heard himself cry out as he buried himself deeply inside her in the last ultimate act of mating, a climactic burst that spilled from him like tidal waves of explosive sensation, breaking into a warm haven that welcomed him and held him safe until he was entirely spent. Then the glorious contentment of simply lying with her, still intimately joined, embraced by the softness of her legs and arms wound around him, the lovely cushion of her breasts, the scented silkiness of her hair.

What more could a man ask?

She had given him—was still giving him—the most perfect pleasure he'd ever known...incomparable to anything else.

Words alien to his usual thinking slid into his mind— a state of bliss.

He smiled over them...no exaggeration at all. Absolute truth. Then for a while, he didn't think at all. Basking in bliss with Gina Terlizzi was the best possible use of time.

It was she who stirred first, sighing, shifting her head so as to look at him, her face expressing a languorous satisfaction, her smile reminiscent of a thousand sensual delights, her eyes a darkly gleaming amber trapping sparkles of golden joy.

"You are amazing, Alex. Thank you for being so...so generous in your loving."

Generous?

He smiled, thinking how much he'd indulged his own desires, yet it was Gina herself who had inspired them, the woman she was and how she made him feel.

"No, you are the amazing one," he murmured, lifting a hand to trace her lips with his fingertips. "You invite the freedom to give instincts full play and you let me follow them without any drawing back."

"Why would I? You gave me more pleasure than I could dream of." "Then I'd say we're very well matched."

Her smile tilted ironically. "In bed."

"Oh, I wouldn't limit it to bed." He grinned teasingly. "If that lasagne was a fair sample of your cooking I'd be happy to share a meal with you anytime."

She grinned back. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." "I enjoy everything about you."

Her head tilted as though she didn't quite believe him. "I'm not very sophisticated."

"Sophistication..." if she was thinking of Michelle's superficial glamour "...can be vastly over-rated. I love being with you, Gina. No false images."

She frowned over that last phrase and he wished he hadn't said it. A sour note. Yet in the next instant it led his mind straight to even more acid thoughts on Peter Owen and a pertinent remark tumbled out of his mouth.

"I hope you realise Peter Owen is a user, particularly where women are concerned. I wouldn't want to see you hurt by him."

Her frown deepened. "Do you mean personally or professionally?"

He grimaced at his urge to interfere, knowing it was seeded by a jealous possessiveness he didn't even like in himself. "I was just concerned when he called on you so casually last Sunday afternoon."

"I wasn't expecting him, Alex."

"Hey...you don't have to answer to me," he asserted. "I know he can be very charming."

"I meant...there is nothing personal," she went on earnestly. "He came about work. Some singing engagements."

He couldn't stop himself from asking, "Are you interested in taking on more engagements with him?"

"I don't know. I put him off. It was the wrong time to talk business. Marco was tired after the picnic. I'm to meet Peter tomorrow after I finish work." Her eyes held an anxious query. "I thought there was no harm in listening to what he has to say."

"No harm at all," he assured her, suppressing his own dislike at the whole idea. Peter Owen didn't have one moral bone in his body. On the other hand, if his professional interests were being served, maybe he would keep his hands off Gina, especially if she made it clear they weren't welcome.

"If he offers you a deal tomorrow, make sure it's a fair one to you, Gina. You could become a very strong drawcard for his act, so don't undersell yourself."

She gave a self-conscious little laugh. "Alex, he's the professional.

Compared to him, I'm an amateur."

"You have a wonderful voice. I'd rather listen to you than him any day."

"Well, thank you, but..."

"No buts." He cupped her cheek and chin, fixing her gaze on his as he assured her of her true worth. "When you sang together last Saturday night, you were the star, Gina. It was your voice that enthralled the audience."

"That could be prejudice speaking, Alex."

"Then ask my grandmother. She'll tell you. Don't make a quick decision with him. That's all I'm saying."

"I won't," she promised, though her eyes seemed to be searching his for other reasons not to make a connection with Peter Owen. "Do you think I should pursue a career with my singing?"

"Only you can make that choice, Gina. You know best what's in your heart."

She said nothing. Her eyes seemed to be wanting him to say more yet what more could he say? He'd been as fair as he could. He wasn't about to plead Peter Owen's case for him. In fact, what he wanted most was to wipe Owen right out of her mind.

He leaned over and kissed her. She welcomed him so fiercely, the desire to have her again charged through his entire body. Yet subtly, persuasively, Gina pressed her wish to make love to him this time, and Alex found himself so entranced by her kisses and caresses, he didn't want to take over.

It was quite awesome, the many ways she excited him; watching her, feeling her body move around his, the incredible sensitivities she aroused and played on. In some deeply possessive sense, it was as though she was imprinting herself on him—her man—and Alex couldn't help revelling in being so intensely desired.

Finally she straddled him, controlling the rhythm herself this time, voluptuously magnificent as she teased and took him to exquisite peaks of excitement, holding him there, holding him as though she never wanted to let him go. Her hair swayed over her breasts, a tantalizingly primitive picture, and it stirred the caveman in him. In a surge of wild energy, he swept her back onto the bed and took her, wanting to be the possessor, needing her to feel his imprint, and there was a savage joy in bringing them both to a triumphant climax.

She evoked so many feelings in him—more than he'd realized could be felt. Even as he lay with her afterwards, he was aware that the tenderness she drew from him was all-encompassing, an emotional level that no other woman had ever tapped. He didn't want to leave her, but time ticked on and common sense insisted it was a weeknight and they both had work to go to in the morning.

"Are you free on Saturday, Gina?" he asked, looking ahead to the weekend, wanting all the time he could get with her.

"Not really." Her sigh sounded rueful. "I'm booked to sing at a church wedding on Saturday afternoon, then later at the reception. I'll be taking Marco to my parents' home beforehand."

"What about Sunday?" "It's free."

"Will you spend it with me?" She hesitated. "Marco, too?"

He'd forgotten the little boy asleep just down the hallway in his own lovingly decorated little boy's room. As much as he wanted Gina to himself, he knew instinctively she was not the kind of mother who would let her son be ignored. Besides, he really liked Marco.

"Of course," he answered easily, his mind leaping ahead for some activity that would involve the boy. "I meant to check on the cane plantation. We can have lunch with the manager and his wife. They have a couple of young children. Marco might enjoy playing with them. How does that sound?"

She snuggled happily. "Sounds great!"

He smiled, thinking he'd take her on a long walk. He'd never made love in a cane field.

There was a first time for everything.