Before the sun set, Constantine intended to make Gianna his in every sense of the word.
Constantine carried Gianna to the cabin with a strength and ease that impacted on the most feminine level. He kicked open the door to her bedroom and entered. The tantalizing scent of forest cedar gently spiced the air. It was dusky and cool, lit only by the late-afternoon sunlight filtering through the gauzy drapes covering the windows. The fading light slid into the room, bathing the bed in a benevolent rosy glow.
He set her on her feet and took a step back. She understood why. He wanted her to be certain, to commit without his touch influencing her. What he didn’t understand was that he was the only man with whom she could commit. For the next few hours she intended to forget everything but the two of them. With the rays of a setting sun cloaking them and the privacy of their mountain retreat to hide them away from prying eyes, this moment would be theirs. Just one special day to come together without worrying about right or wrong, or The Inferno, or family expectations.
Constantine continued to keep his distance. “Are you sure, Gianna?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely, yes.”
Even though she knew they both wanted this more than anything else, she caught something in his expression, just a brief flash that hinted at regret. It didn’t take any guesswork to figure out the cause. She closed the distance between them, leaned into him and sighed in relief the instant his arms closed tight around her. It was time. Time to let go of her pride and follow her heart.
Long past time.
“As much as I’d like to make love to you, Constantine, we can’t take this any further,” she informed him. She pulled back and smoothed the furrow lining his brow with a tender hand. “Not quite yet. I believe there’s something you have to do first so that tonight is the way it should be. The way we’ll always want to remember it. A night without regrets or blemish.”
A slow smile built across his face, the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen. Ever so gently, he swept the back of his hand across her cheek. “Thank you for this,” he whispered.
“Anytime,” she whispered back.
He took her hands in his and dropped to one knee. If anyone else had done such a thing, it would have been beyond corny. In this special moment, it was beyond romantic. “Gianna Marie Fiorella Dante, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She opened her heart, allowing it to show in every bit of her expression. “Yes, Constantine. I’ll marry you.”
He stood, cupping her face. “No second thoughts?”
Her tearful smile felt shaky, but from happiness not nervousness. “Not a single one. I couldn’t have chosen a more perfect man to share a more perfect moment.”
The contours of his face softened, hunger kicking in. “I don’t know if I can make this perfect for you, but I swear I’ll do my best.”
Constantine kissed her with unmistakable passion, stamping her with his possession in the most delicious way. It went beyond mere exploration, and became a thorough taking. Not rushed. But slow and deep and giving.
Gianna’s breathing quickened, desire rising like a storm driven tide, building inexorably, need an immense tidal wave flinging itself toward shore. It broke, spilling over her in a great rush and she clung to him, hanging on tight, then tighter. His tongue dueled with hers, lips and mouth teasing, mating, and he thrust his hands deep into her hair, using the tangle of thick heavy curls to anchor her to him.
“Finally,” he muttered. “Your hair has been driving me crazy all day. Flirting. Taunting. But not anymore.” He wrapped the weighty mass around his hand and drew her up. “Now you can’t get away.”
Her mouth curved into a slow smile. “Why would I want to get away? There’s only one place I want to be and that’s in bed with you.”
He said something in Italian. Something thick and dark and demanding. For some reason, she couldn’t make sense of it. “Take off your swimsuit,” he repeated in English.
She lifted her chin in open challenge. “Take it off me.”
His gaze flared darkly. “My pleasure.”
His fingers slid from her hair to the narrow straps banding her shoulders. He lowered them, sweeping them down her arms inch by excruciating inch. A light breeze drifted in through the open window and tripped along her spine. Her suit slipped downward, settling around her hips. A swift, gentle tug and it slid to her ankles.