“I only need to look at you to want you, mia bella...”

Sentenced to stillness by that startling admission, Isla gazed up at him, barely crediting that she was in his arms in a bed.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Alissandru urged her, a fingertip smoothing the frown line forming between her delicate brows.

The heat of his big, powerful body filtering through her pyjamas made her feel warm and secure. He actually wanted her. Alissandru Rossetti wanted her and somehow that made Isla feel less alone.

“Are you warm enough now?” Alissandru enquired silkily, a hand sliding beneath her top to splay across her midriff.

Her breath snarled up in her throat at the feel of his big hand against her skin. She couldn’t think straight and an instant of panic claimed her because she had never been in such an intimate situation with a man. Her brain whirred at a frantic pace because she knew that Alissandru would expect sex. And why not, another little voice chimed in the back of her head. Why not? Why shouldn’t she? She was finally with a male who made her heart beat so fast she felt breathless. And shouldn’t that be celebrated rather than denied or suppressed?