The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

quite in control, huh?’ she offered with a faintly wicked smile, only to gasp as his mouth sought a vulnerable hollow at the edge of her neck.

      He had the touch, the skill to evoke an instant response, and she trembled as his tongue wrought renewed havoc.

      His hands closed over hers, completing the task, and she clutched hold of his waist as he dispensed with the remainder of his clothes.

      The scent of his skin, the slight muskiness of man intermingled with the elusive tones of soap and cologne. Tantalising, erotic, infinitely tempting, and inviting her to savour and taste.

      Aysha felt sensation burgeon until it encompassed every nerve-cell. The depth, the magnitude overwhelmed her. Two souls melding, seamlessly forging a bond that could never be broken.

      She lifted her arms and wound them round his neck as he lowered her down onto the bed and followed her, protecting her from the full impact of his weight.

      His mouth closed over hers, devastatingly sensual, in a kiss that drugged her mind, her senses, until she hardly recognised the guttural pleas as her own.

      She was on fire, the flames of desire burning deep within until there was no reason, no sensation of anything other than the man and the havoc he was causing as he led her through pleasure to ecstasy and beyond.

      Now, she wanted him now. The feel of him inside her, surging again and again, deeper and deeper, until she absorbed all of him, and their rhythm became as one, in tune and in perfect accord as they soared together, clung momentarily to the sexual pinnacle, then reached the ultimate state of nirvana.

      Did she say the words? She had no idea whether they found voice or not. There was only the journey, the sensation of spiralling ecstasy, the scent of sexual essence, and the damp sheen on his skin.

      She was conscious of her own response, his, the shudder raking that large body as he spilled his seed, and she exulted in the moment.

      The sex between them had always been good. Better than good, she accorded dimly as she clung to him. But this, this was more. Intoxicating, exquisite, wild. And there was love. That essential quality that transcended physical expertise or skill.

      There was no contest, Aysha acknowledged with lazy warmth a long time later as she lay curled against a hard male body.

      Neither had had the will to indulge in leisurely lovemaking the first time round. It had been hard and fast, each one of them driven by a primal urge so intense it had been electrifying, wanton, and totally impassioned.

      Afterwards they had shared the Jacuzzi, then towelled dry, they’d returned to bed for a lingering aftermath of touching, tasting... a loving that had had no equal in anything they’d previously shared.

      ‘Are we going to tell our parents?’

      Carlo brushed his chin against the top of her head. ‘Let a slight change in wording to reaffirmation of vows do it for us on the day.’

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      AYSHA woke to the sound of rain, and she took a moment to stretch her limbs, then she checked the bedside clock. A few minutes past seven.

      Any time soon Teresa would knock on her door, and the day would begin.

      If she was fortunate, she had an hour, maybe two, before Teresa began checking on everything from the expected delivery time of flowers... to the house, the church, the reception. Followed by a litany of reminders that would initiate various supervisors to recheck arrangements with their minions. The wedding co-ordinator was doubtless on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

      Aysha slid out from the bed and padded barefoot across the carpet to the draped window. A touch to the remote control module activated the mechanism that swept the drapes open, and she stifled a groan at the sight of heavy rain drenching the lawn.

      Her mother, she knew, would consider it an omen, and probably not a propitious one.

      Aysha selected shorts and a top, discarded her nightshirt, then quickly dressed. With a bit of celestial help she might make it downstairs to the dining room—

      Her mobile phone rang, and she reached for it.

      ‘Carlo?’

      ‘Who else were you expecting?’

      His deep voice did strange things to her senses, and the temptation to tease him a little was difficult to resist ‘Any one of my four bridesmaids, your mother, Nonna Benini, phoning from Treviso to wish me buona fortuna, Sister Maria Teresa...’ she trailed off, and was unable to suppress a light laugh. ‘Is there any particular reason you called?’

      ‘Remind me to exact retribution, cara,’ he mocked in husky promise.

      The thought of precisely how he would achieve it curled round her central core, and set her heart beating at a quickened pace.

      ‘You weren’t there when I reached out in the night,’ Carlo said gently. ‘There was no scent of you on my sheets, no drift of perfume to lend assurance to my subconscious mind.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘I missed you.’

      She closed her eyes against the vivid picture his words evoked. She could feel her whole body begin to heat, her emotions separate and shred. ‘Don’t,’ she pleaded with a slight groan. ‘I have to get through the day.’

      ‘Didn’t sleep much, either, huh?’ he queried wryly, and she wrinkled her nose.

      ‘An hour or two, here and there,’ Aysha admitted.

      ‘Are you dressed?’

      ‘Yes.’ Her voice was almost prim, and he laughed.

      ‘Pity. If I can’t have you in the flesh, then the fantasy will have to suffice.’

      ‘And you, of course, have had a workout, showered, shaved, and are about to eat breakfast?’

      Carlo chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers slithering down her spine. ‘Actually, no. I’m lying in bed, conserving my energy.’

      Just the thought of that long muscular body resting supine on the bed was enough to play havoc with her senses. Imagining how he might or might not be attired sent her pulse beating like a drum.

      ‘I don’t think we’d better do this.’

      ‘Do what, precisely?’

      ‘Phone sex.’

      His voice held latent laughter. ‘Is that what you think we’re doing?’

      ‘It doesn’t compensate for the real thing.’

      His soft laughter was almost her undoing. ‘I doubt Teresa will be impressed if I appear at the door and sweep you into the bedroom before breakfast.’

      A firm tattoo sounded against the panelled door. ‘Aysha?’

      The day was about to start in earnest. ‘In a moment, Mamma.’

      ‘Don’t keep me waiting too long at the church, cara,’ Carlo said gently as she crossed the room.

      ‘To be five minutes late is obligatory,’ she teased, twisting the knob and drawing back the door. ‘Ciao.’

      Teresa stood framed in the doorway. ‘Buon giorno, darling.’ Her eyes glanced at the mobile phone. ‘You were talking to Carlo?’ She didn’t wait for an answer as she walked to the expanse of plate glass window with its splendid view of the harbour and northern suburbs. ‘It’s raining.’

      ‘The service isn’t scheduled until four,’ Aysha attempted to soothe.

      ‘Antonio has spent so much time and effort on the gardens these past few weeks. It will be such a shame if we can’t assemble outside for photographs.’

      ‘The wedding organiser has a contingency plan, Mamma.’ Photographs in the