Leila had just decided to head for the closet to find an appropriate flimsy thing to wear, when the door opened. It was Marco. He had removed the tailored jacket he’d worn for the nuptials, as well as his tie. The top buttons of his silk shirt were opened, revealing the perfect tanned column of his neck and a seductive glimpse of his muscular chest. The wind had tousled his hair giving him the look of casual indifference. 

Coolly, he leaned against the frame of the door for a moment, a slight smile tugged at his lips, his chin jutted slightly as nostrils flared and eyes roamed uncensored. When he dipped his head slightly and closed his eyes for only a second, Leila gasped. 

Steely grey-black eyes, like the beads her mother gave her on her eighteenth birthday, flew to hers. Without breaking eye-contact, he entered the room; the fingers of one hand sleeked back unruly hair and the other expertly held two wineglasses and a bottle of champagne. 

Leila heard the blood rush through her body as her heart pounded rhythmically to the pace of his every step. Slow and powerful. Deliberate and demanding. Then it pounded like a drummer in a solo act. Wild and thunderous.  

She wondered if it could be picked up by the sensitive radar system that the captain had showed her earlier when he took her on a tour of the yacht. 

She leaned toward the bedpost and grasped it as if she were holding on to a life raft. He stopped a few feet away to a side table and proceeded to pour the bubbling golden liquid into the champagne flutes. 

“From my very own vineyard, one of my own creations.” He said holding up the glasses to the light and then handing her one. There was a coolness to his voice that contradicted Leila’s frazzled nerves.

“I spent last summer trying to perfect the art of champagne-making. I must admit that it didn’t go too badly. I might just have created the perfect balance…” 

Leila’s scant attention was diverted by the mesmerising movement of his lips as he formed each word. Her eyes moved lower until it rested on the open neck of his silk shirt, settling on the quivering Adam’s apple as it throbbed with each vibration of his deep voice. Then eyes dared to go lower still. Unsuccessfully, she tried to shake away the flaming heat in parts of her body, she’d not even acknowledged yet. She tried to focus on the long-stemmed glass in her trembling hands. 

When he stopped speaking, she looked up and her eyes clashed with his, so very dark now. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Leila,” his voice was almost distressed. Seeing the question in her eyes he continued, “Like you want me to kiss you—or is it that you want to kill me. I never seem to know with you.” 

His free hand reached forward and trailed the contours of her face. Her eyes closed for a second, revelling in the tender touch. 

“It never stopped you from kissing me before,” Leila sighed as his fingers trailed lower along the length of her throat. 

Then without ceremony, he pulled her closer against his hard, aroused body. Hot desire weakened her and she moaned with a need she had never before experienced.  

When his lips claimed hers, hungry and demanding, there was no gentle interlude. Consumed by wild need, there was no reserve or control. 

Champagne flutes hastily discarded, hands were set free to explore.

In one deft manoeuvre, he ripped the hooks that held her dress in place and pulled the diamond and pearl clip that bound her hair in a chignon. The dress fell in a cloud of lace at her feet to reveal another layer of fine Italian lace and silky golden skin.

“Amore mio, sei cosi bella,” he whispered. 

Words Leila did not know but said like that, understood. He lifted her effortlessly and placed her on the bed, her long shiny hair framing her body. 

Hovering over her, he started to unbutton his shirt. Shyly, she reached out for him as he removed the last of his clothes, impatient for his touch and his kisses. 

He was beautiful. Breathless by just the sight of his naked body, Leila’s head fell back, waiting. Finally, he leaned over her and claimed her kisses once more. He tugged at the lace teddy, willing her to lift her arms above her head as helped her out of the last barrier between their bodies. Eyes wandered first, and her body found the scrutiny just as bold as a touch. Then hands and lips conquered where his eyes had already caressed, murmuring words in Italian.  When Marco sensed she was ready, he positioned himself between her soft thighs. Her legs entwined around him.

Immediately he sensed her body tense and tighten. He searched her face and found confirmation of her innocence. Leila was a virgin. He had married and was bedding, a virgin. 

“Leila?” he whispered and gently brushed away strands of hair that clung to her damp face. 

“Don’t stop,” Leila’s voice was a mere sigh. “Don’t stop.” She tightened her legs around him. Desperately holding on to the last of his control, he broke through her barrier. She flinched briefly. Gently, within her, he searched her face. With each movement, the growing feeling that promised pleasure urged her toward an unknown edge. One that would take her to a place she craved to know.

Of its own volition, her body responded and matched his moves. Every cell in her body vibrated with pure pleasure.

For a long while they were silent in each other’s arms. It was Marco who broke the silence. His voice was tender and his hot breath fanned her forehead.

“You have given me the best gift a bride can give her husband on their wedding night.” He paused and then added, “That sounds quite old-fashioned. What I think I want to say is that I am glad I am your first lover.”

He sounded so pleased with himself.

“You should have told me you were virgin.”

“Why? What difference would that have made?” Leila tensed. 

“I would have been gentler, at least I would have tried,” his tone still indulgent and tender. His hands stroked her bare skin. 

“Do you think I was saving myself for you?” she bit back suddenly as she extracted herself from his embrace and sat up. Leila knew she was reacting contrarily to the astonishing newfound feelings. She had just had her first most wonderful sexual experience with a man she was undeniably attracted to, but she felt bitter. 

To him this was just another conquest; at least that was what it sounded like.  She realised that she was a novice to his expertise and for some reason it made her feel more than a tinge of envy. She did not want to diminish this moment with her incongruous attitude, but she could not stop herself.

“I had been saving myself for the man I love, Marco. Not the man who decided he would negotiate this as part of a business proposal.”

“Leila we have just made love. How can you be so brash?” he said, taken aback by her words.

“Made love?” she threw back as she slid out the bed holding onto his shirt to cover her exposed body. 

“We did not make love Marco! That is something two people in love do. We had sex. To consummate this marriage—as you demanded in those contracts you made me sign. Have you forgotten?” She paused. His face was stony except for the clenching of his jaws. And his eyes burned with rage. But her next words turned his face murderous. 

“This is just part of the deal!” She fled to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. 

Marco lay there on the bed utterly stunned by the unexpected turn of the night he’d waited for. Leila had given him the most wonderful gift and then she pulled it away right from under him. And the worst of it was that she told him it was never meant for him. He slid off the bed determined to pound the door down and tell her that he did not care what she thought. They had made love! But he froze at the door.

He couldn’t do it. She was right. He might have these intense feelings about what just happened but she had a completely different interpretation of it. He needed to see the reality in this situation. 

He remembered the way she responded to him just a little while ago. She had wanted him as much as he wanted her. Although she may also sense something developing between them, for now it might only seem like chemistry. To him though, it meant more. He wasn’t sure what exactly, but it certainly was a lot more than chemistry. He sighed and put his head in hands for a moment. He needed to collect his thoughts.

Maybe some fresh air. He should give her some time as well. Barging into that bathroom and demanding she see things his way, was not going to help. What on earth would he say to her? That he had feelings for her? What feelings? This was crazy. He pulled on his clothes and left the room.