The Moretti Seduction by Katherine Garbera

waist. Her hands fluttered between them and their eyes met.
    Mine, he thought.
    He held her hips steady, entered her slowly, then thrust deeply until he was fully seated. Her eyes widened with each inch he gave her. She clutched at his hips as he started thrusting, holding him to her, her eyes half closed and her head tipped back.
    He leaned down and caught one of her nipples in his teeth, scraping very gently. She started to tighten around him. Her hips moved faster, demanding more, but he kept the pace slow, steady. He wanted her to come again before he did.
    He suckled her nipple and rotated his hips to catch her pleasure point with each thrust and he felt her hands clench in his hair as she threw her head back and a climax ripped through her.
    He varied his thrusts, finding a rhythm that would draw out the tension at the base of his spine. Something that would make his time in her body, wrapped in her silky limbs, last forever.
    Leaning back on his haunches, he tipped her hips up to give him deeper access to her body. Then she scraped her nails down his back, clutched his buttocks and drew him in. His blood roared in his ears as he felt everything in his world center to this one woman.
    He held her in his arms afterward, neither of them saying anything, and he feared that was because both of them knew that this had changed the stakes in their friendly little game. The family feud that had started with her great-aunt and his grandfather couldn’t be continued with their generation.

Seven
    B ack in Paris, life seemed too hectic. Her father and sister had gone back to their lives and now that she was home Nathalie thought that Antonio and the night they’d spent together would seem less intense, but it wasn’t. She had been working day and night not just on the Moretti Motors negotiations but also on the other work that crossed her desk.
    Her parents had invited her to dinner tonight and she’d tried to turn them down, but Nathalie never could disappoint her mother.
    It was the same with Genevieve. Maybe it was because they’d grown up closer to their mother than their father. Whatever the reason, she admitted as she drove her Peugeot on the roundabout in front of the Arc de Triomphe, she didn’t care. She wanted to get through dinner as quickly as she could and then get back to work.
    It was the only way she’d found to keep her mind off of Antonio. When she was at home in her luxurious condo, all she did was imagine him there with her. When she slept he haunted her dreams, making love to her and speaking to her in that beautiful Italian voice of his. When she worked out at the gym, she sometimes thought she heard his footfalls on the treadmill next to hers.
    He was haunting her. Damn him.
    In the office he’d sent her a very official-sounding e-mail telling her that he looked forward to hearing from her on the Vallerio Roadster matter.
    And then at home she’d received a vase of yellow daffodils, which were still on her front hall table. They were the first things she saw when she came home and the last things she noticed when she left. The note he’d sent was sweet and sexy. Everything she’d expect from Antonio.
    And a part of her…okay, all of her hoped that this relationship was more than an affair. But she was afraid to believe it.
    He had said that they should keep their dating private and that it had nothing to do with the negotiations they were both embroiled in right now, but she worried that she wouldn’t be able to.
    Her mobile rang as she approached the restaurant and pulled into the valet lane. She glanced down at the caller ID and saw that it was an Italian number. Antonio?
    She hurried out of her car and into Ladurée. The restaurant was over a century old and a famous institution on the Champs-Elysées.
    “Bonjour, c’est Nathalie,” she said, answering her phone.
    “ Ciao, cara mia. Did you get the flowers I sent?”
    “Yes, I did. Thank you for them.”
    “You’re welcome. What are