Between the Italian's Sheets

He shrugged. ‘I went to boarding school straight after. We’re not close.’ The bare recitation spoke volumes.

She sat back, shocked. He’d been sent away? To a whole other country where they didn’t even speak his first language?

The slight smile in his eyes was all cynical. ‘I take after my mother. I think I was too painful a reminder.’

So in a way they’d both been rejected by their surviving parent. Luca had been sent away, and Emily’s father had gone away himself—in mind and spirit anyway—leaving Emily to shoulder the burden of caring for his fading shell.

‘Where’s your dad now?’

‘He remarried. They live just outside Rome.’

Their eyes met. Was that part of what had drawn them together? That somehow they’d recognised that they had shadows in common?

She barely had the chance to process that when he sat up. ‘Enough gloom. The day is too short.’ He reached into the apparently bottomless basket. ‘Let’s try dessert.’

Perhaps their pasts had nothing to do with the attraction. Perhaps it all came down to the fact that he was the most physically dynamic man she’d ever seen. And he was right. They didn’t need to share more in the way of gloom. Today was about holidays and sun.

The dessert was some creamy confection. He held the spoon, his laughter a soft rumble as he made her lean closer to taste it.

Oh, my. It was the taste of pure decadence.

‘Good, isn’t it?’ He had a spoonful and then offered her another.

‘Mmm-hmm.’

She stretched out and lay back on the pillow then, giving herself over to the utter indulgence. Closing her eyes, letting her mind savour the flavour and soak up the heat. She wanted more of the sweet, wanted much more of him.

‘So all this time you’ve been looking after your sister,’ he spoke softly. ‘Now you need someone to satisfy your needs.’

She turned her head and opened her eyes. His head was close, resting on the cushion right by hers. ‘What makes you think I haven’t got someone already?’

‘If you did, you wouldn’t be looking at me with those hungry eyes.’

She lifted her head, a little on her dignity. ‘You don’t need to lay it on with a trowel, Luca. I’m not completely inexperienced.’

‘Only relatively, sì?’ He laughed. ‘What was he? Some young fool who wouldn’t know how to give pleasure to a woman even if she gave him step by step instructions and a map showing the way?’

She felt the blush covering her cheeks and neck and she shut her eyes again to pretend it wasn’t happening. Her ex had been exactly like that.

‘Emily. I can offer you nothing but a memory.’ His voice was a little strained. ‘But I think it would be some memory.’

She reopened her eyes then—drawn by the power behind his words.

‘When did you last do something you wanted to do?’ he asked. ‘Not something for someone else, or something you had to do. But something you wanted, just for you?’

She couldn’t remember. And she knew he knew. ‘Is that what you’re offering? How generous of you, Luca,’ she mocked gently. ‘As if there’s nothing in it for you.’

‘There’s everything in it for me. I admit it.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m selfish. Be selfish with me.’ He raised himself back up on one elbow, rolling onto his side to face her. ‘We have more in common than you might think. I’ve been working hard too and you’ve worked hard for so long. Don’t you deserve a treat?’

‘Is that what you are?’

He leaned closer. ‘You tell me.’ He reached across and took her hand, lifted it and pressed it to his chest. ‘Feel it? Accelerating?’

The solid thump in his chest was strong and regular and hypnotic and her fingers wanted the fabric to disappear so she could feel his skin direct.

‘Is it like this for you, when we touch? When our arms brush as we walk side by side, does your body want more? Mine does.’ He still spoke quietly but she felt the force of his underlying feeling pierce through to her marrow. ‘What if I did that to you, Emily—would your heart start to race?’

It already was—faster and faster with every word and the spiralling anticipation.

‘I think we should find out.’ He let her hand go and reached across to her, his fingers drawing along the line of her collarbone.

‘Luca…’ She shook her head but couldn’t deny the fire his touch ignited.

His hand slid down, pressed against her tee shirt, pulling it close to her skin, so that her breast was displayed, and he looked at her tight, peaking nipple. He smiled as it jutted out for him; he didn’t need to feel her heart to know his effect on her.

He looked back into her face, intensely determined. ‘Just one kiss.’

One afternoon. One absolute temptation.

He didn’t need to coax her mouth open. She met him halfway, already wet and pliant and seeking. She closed her eyes, able to focus on nothing but him. And there was nothing but his kiss. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue probing, tasting. Rapidly it became more insistent—plundering, taking. She raised her hands, sliding them into his hair. Surrendering and then beginning to make her own demands—opening wider, seeking deeper, harder.

It was bliss. She wanted it to last, wanted to savour each stage. But too soon she wanted more. The need to move closer grew, she wanted him to roll right above her, wanted to feel his weight, to be pressed down into the soft rugs by his hard hips, wanted to explore his…

He drew back. ‘Emily.’

She opened her eyes, hating the interruption.

‘I am going to take you back to my hotel and kiss you like that all over your body. Is that OK with you?’

‘Is your hotel far?’

He laughed, an uncontrolled shout of genuine amusement.

‘I’m serious. Can’t we just do this some more here?’ She didn’t want to wait. She wanted it all, right now.

He smiled, that wonderful warm, relaxed smile, and leaned over her again. The kiss was right back at hot. And then he was kissing her jaw, her throat, his hand was at her breast and she learnt him too, learning the boundaries with her touch—learning that with Luca there were no boundaries. The kisses and caresses were so intense and satisfying yet awakening such an appetite that she knew there would be no saying no. No tomorrow and no regrets. There was only now and a need so great it was overwhelming.

Through heavy eyes she saw the blue of the sky and the green of the branches above them, felt the heat of summer, and all her senses appreciated this paradise. And there was more to come; he promised so much more with every kiss. She shifted on the rug, restless. She’d never known how desire could be a sort of suffering, hadn’t felt this depth of longing for physical fulfilment. The pain of it and the way the body could absolutely overrule reason.

He groaned, as if he too were in pain, and as if he’d read her mind and knew how willing she was, how much she wanted. ‘I’d love to see you naked under these trees, but the Giardino is public. Unless spending the night with the carabinieri is on your list of tourist activities, then we need to leave. Now.’

She almost, almost didn’t care, caught between not wanting this moment to end and wanting to get to the end as fast as possible—to completion.

‘OK.’ She forced the answer; it was like dragging herself out of the warmest, sweetest water. And all she wanted to do was disappear into the depths again. Had he drugged her with that food? But, no, it was his body, and his touch, that were the opiate.

He rose to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Then come.’

Their eyes met for a pregnant moment. And then she smiled.

‘What about this?’ She gestured to the rumpled rug and scattered cushions and containers, not wanting to have to think about them, but years of taking responsibility insisted on it.

He shook his head. ‘It’s taken care of. Don’t worry.’

He took her hand and led her down the sloping gardens. Waiting at the gates was a sleek grey car. Luca held the door open for her and she slid in. He climbed in the back with her. The driver pulled away. It was only minutes to the centre of Verona and his hotel, but all of them were occupied as with light fingers he turned her head towards him and kissed her. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want him ever to stop.

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