Did you lie motionless until he was awake? Slip free of his embrace, gather up your clothes and tiptoe from the room? What if all that shifting around woke him? What did people say to each other after they’d spent the night making love? They’d made love again and again, Chiara thought with a little shudder of pleasure. And each time had been different and even better than the last. How could her mother have been so wrong? This was not pain or submission or humiliation. This was pure joy, a heart-stopping, breathless climb to the very top of a mountain and then a long, dizzying flight to the stars. At least, it was when Raffaele Orsini was your lover. During the night she’d awakened to his kisses. She’d shot from sleep with her heart pounding, struggling against the alien, male touch. “No,” she’d said sharply, and he’d framed her face with his hands. “Chiara. Sweetheart, it’s me.” Slowly she’d became aware of the familiarity of the hard body poised just over hers.
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