Читать книгу Mistress To a Latin Lover: The Sicilian's Defiant Mistress / The Italian's Pregnant Mistress / The Italian's Mistress - Кэтти Уильямс, Jane Porter, Cathy Williams - Страница 13

CHAPTER SEVEN

DON’T look at the clock, Cass told herself, don’t watch time pass. Because an hour was nothing. An hour was brutally short. Just sixty minutes. Three thousand six hundred seconds. An hour would be gone in no time.

And despite being held so securely, Cass felt pain at being in Maximos’s arms, not joy. Because she was waiting again. Waiting to say goodbye, to let him go.

She hated waiting, too. Hated letting him go.

She could do a hundred things—all difficult, all requiring prowess, talent, skill. But the one thing she couldn’t do was let Maximos go.

She’d tried, too. God knows she’d tried. She’d wanted more, needed more, but somehow less with Maximos seemed better than more with anyone else.

Now lying in Maximos’s arms, curled against his side, Cass felt the past rise up, the life she’d lived and she was suddenly, vividly reminded of their last weekend together, the weekend in Paris which didn’t turn out to be a full weekend at all. She’d arrived Saturday afternoon, was scheduled to fly out Sunday noon, and a car was waiting for her at the airport.

She took the car to her hotel—the Four Seasons, of course—and checked into her suite and waited.

And waited.

And finally he called late Saturday night—to say he couldn’t make it, but he’d see her Sunday morning, he’d definitely see her before she returned home. She’d been upset, hurt, disappointed and yet she clung to the fact that he’d promised Sunday morning, held on to the fact he’d given her his word.

And he had come Sunday morning and they’d had a late breakfast before he’d taken her to the airport but it wasn’t the weekend she’d hoped for.

Just like their relationship had never been what she’d hoped for. Because she’d needed more than empty hotel suites, even if they were lavish suites. She’d needed less disappointment and more peace. Less hurt and more happiness.

Maybe he did keep his word, because like that Sunday in Paris, he’d eventually show up but more and more often he’d show so late there was no time to talk properly, make love properly, be loved properly.

And now she’d let it happen again, and everything was screaming inside her, everything was on fire. She’d allowed herself to be reduced to nothing. Because she loved him.

It felt as if she’d carelessly cut her own throat and the knife hadn’t even been that sharp, but she’d done it fast, surrendered herself to him before she thought her actions through. Before she understood the consequences.

Cass bit down on her tender knuckles. She’d been tricked, fooled by the body and the senses. Somehow, each time she made love with Maximos, she thought there was more. She was sure there was more…that there could be more, if she only asked.

If she dared to risk.

Because making love with Maximos made sense. She loved the way he looked at her. She loved the heat and the interest and energy. And when he touched her, the walls came down completely and it was about them, the two of them together. Sexy, seductive, and inexplicably beautiful. No one had ever touched her the way Maximos did, no one had ever made her feel so perfect. So…sacred.

In his arms like this, the only thing she feared was time. When he was with her, she feared time passing. When he was away, she feared time slowing. Time was the only obstacle.

Or so she’d once thought.

Maximos rubbed her shoulder, dropped a kiss on her head. “I have to go now.”

“Max—”

“It’s been an hour.”

And they’d made a deal. She’d begged him to stay, and he had, and now she couldn’t make him feel bad for leaving.

“All right,” she said, her voice low and unsteady.

“You’ll be okay?”

No. “Yes.”

She felt him throw the covers back and he slid from the bed and then drew the covers back up over her.

“You’re sure?” he asked, reaching for his clothes.

She listened to the clink of his belt buckle, the whisper sound of fabric sliding against skin. “Yes.” But she couldn’t watch him dress. She couldn’t do it again so she closed her eyes, turned her head away. But the hurt was huge, sharp, a dragon with endless teeth. Why was he always leaving her?

Or was she just the kind of woman men left?

Cass hiccupped as the door quietly opened and closed.

He’d gone.

Maximos had made it perfectly clear tonight that he wanted no commitments, nothing to tie him down. She was, and always had been, about convenience.

And she wasn’t convenient anymore.

Battling tears, she pulled the duvet up over her head, covering herself entirely. Don’t think, she told herself. But the hot, humiliating tears wouldn’t stop falling.

How could she have loved him so much and he felt so little?

How could he take her, make love to her, for two years giving her pleasure, receiving such pleasure, only to let it all go away?

How could he just walk away? She’d given him everything—access to all her body and every millimeter of her heart—why hadn’t that been enough?

The questions burned her, returning now just to haunt her just as they had every night and day for the past six months. How could someone willingly give up something like what they had? Their relationship was different. Their desire was hotter, brighter, their satisfaction greater. They had everything.

How could that not be enough?

She sobbed into the crook of her arm, sobbing so hard there were moments she couldn’t catch her breath and finally she knew she had to stop. Pull yourself together. This isn’t the end of the world. You’ll get over him. It’s just a matter of time.

Pushing wet strands of hair from her cheek, Cass took a deep breath, and then another. Time heals all wounds.

Maybe. Maybe not.

She drew a shaky breath, and then another. This, too, shall pass. Nothing lasts forever.

And yet the clichés just made her angrier.

She didn’t want to get over Maximos. She didn’t know how to get over Maximos. Not when she still wanted him like this, not when she still needed him like this. Not when she was still so deeply, hopelessly in love.

Maximos Guiliano, love of her life. Maximos Guiliano, father of the child she’d lost.

Cass woke the next morning to brilliant sunshine and the sunshine confused her, tricked her. For a moment she didn’t know where she was or why she felt as though she’d been run over by a truck and left for dead.

And then it hit her. It all came back. What happened last night. Where she was today. Maximos’s house. Maximos’s guest room. The morning after…

The ache inside her was nearly intolerable. And the sunshine didn’t help, she thought, rubbing tiredly at her eyes, her eyes sore from crying herself to sleep.

But it was a new day, and Cass forced herself up. Leaving the bed, she began gathering her clothes still scattered on the floor—the silk hose, the satin garter belt, the torn panties and gown. And there in the tangle of clothes Cass discovered Maximos’s cotton undershirt, the one he’d worn last night beneath his dress shirt.

She picked up the cotton T-shirt and pressed it to her chest, still able to smell Maximos’s spicy fragrance on the fabric.

Maximos. The heartbreak hit her again, the heartbreak still so stunning, always unreal. And pressing the shirt to her mouth, a kiss of sorts, she breathed in the scent of him, breathed in the emotion before tossing the shirt back to the ground.

In the ensuite, Cass stepped beneath the shower, let the water stream down washing away all memory of last night’s lovemaking.

She dressed swiftly, not letting herself think, not letting herself feel.

She was on the stairs, carrying her suitcase down when a hard voice sounded in the stairwell. “Going somewhere, Cass?”

The sound of Maximos’s voice behind her made her jump, and she jerked around on the step. “You scared me,” she said, putting one hand on her chest to quiet the mad drumming.

He was dressed in khakis and a crisp olive-green shirt and with his dark hair combed and his jaw shaven smooth he looked coolly elegant and perfectly in control.

Unlike the man who’d taken her to bed last night.

Unlike the lover who’d made her so completely his…

Pain sliced through her and she held her breath, trying to stay calm, maintain control like Maximos.

“So where are you going?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

If she didn’t think and just allowed herself to be, she could feel the heat and strength of Maximos’s body against hers still. She could feel the way he took her. Loved her. If she didn’t speak and didn’t move she could smell his clean spicy scent, a combination of his amazing skin and expensive but subtle cologne. She could taste his mouth on hers, the warmth and the coolness of his tongue playing hers, his lips teasing hers, the scrape of his teeth, the bristles of his beard.

The sex worked so well. Why did nothing else?

Cass swallowed the lump filling her throat and shifted her suitcase from one hand to the other. “I’m going home.”

He just looked at her, a long level look that made her insides curl. He was angry. Angry with her. “I guess you finally got the closure you needed.”

“I did come for closure.”

“Is that a polite way of saying you wanted to get laid one last time?”

She flushed. “That’s not fair—”

“Then what was last night?”

“Don’t act like last night was so meaningful for you. You couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

“I’ve a house full of guests. Responsibilities—”

“It’s not just last night, Maximos. You never stay after you’ve finished making love. For over two years I asked you to stay, to spend the night with me, but each time you had to go. You always have excuses. But it’s lonely being left. It feels awful watching you dress and go.”

“So now it’s your turn to walk out.”

Defiantly she looked up, met his gaze squarely, reading the intensity in his dark eyes. He was still so hard. So fierce. He’d take her to bed again and again, but that was it. The extent of what he’d offer her. Outside the bedroom, he’d never give her more. He would take her body, pleasure her body, but he’d never love her. “Maximos, there’s nothing for me here.”

“There was plenty between us last night.”

“That’s called sex.”

“It works.”

It was exactly what she feared he’d say, what she didn’t want him to say. She wanted him to want her, fight for her, crave her the way she craved him. And for the longest moment she couldn’t speak because it hurt, this gap in needs, a difference that was now clearly insurmountable.

“I deserve more than sex,” she said finally, a terrible lump filled her throat. “I deserve more from you.”

“More?” He was toying with her, his tone downright mocking. “As in gifts? Trinkets? Tokens of my affection?”

Her jaw tensed, flexed. It seemed impossible that they’d been lovers for so long, that they’d actually believed their relationship worked.

How had so little been enough for her for that long? Cass couldn’t imagine ever settling for less now, not when she knew that she’d had her priorities all wrong, that she’d never known herself, who she’d been, and what she’d needed. Sex might feel good, but she wanted love. Sex answered certain physical needs but it didn’t satisfy the emptiness inside, the longing to be accepted, cherished, validated. “I’ve had enough trinkets and tokens. I’d like a real relationship, one based on trust and respect—”

“I trust you. And respect you.”

“One where both people give.” This was killing her, making all her frustrations and needs known. She hated being vulnerable like this, hated having to ask for anything. “You didn’t give, Maximos, you took.”

He shrugged. “I gave you what I could.”

She gritted her teeth at his tone, hating his calm indifference, that insufferable arrogance which set him above her, making him the mature, rational one and she the emotional, needy female.

It seemed almost inconceivable now that she’d given herself to him so freely, that she’d allowed him such access to her body, as well as her heart, because she’d given him her heart, too, and it was the one thing he hadn’t wanted.

Cass drew a rough breath. “Maybe I need to be completely honest. Maybe what I should say is that I don’t understand how you could make my body feel so good, but care so little about the rest of me? What was so special about my body?”

“Cass.”

“Don’t Cass me. Don’t make me feel bad for wanting more. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make love instead of just screwing.” She felt so exposed now, so needy and vulnerable but she couldn’t help it. It had all been pent up for too long. The wants. The needs. The fear.

Why couldn’t he give her what she needed? Why couldn’t he love her?

She was asking for love, not money, not power, not fame, nor success. Love.

“Maybe all I need is to screw.” Maximos’s deep voice, pitched low and hard, echoed in the hall.

“Great,” she choked, grabbing her suitcase and heading down the stairs rapidly, one quick step at a time. “Get laid. Go screw. Just stay away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he said, following her down the staircase. “Or you wouldn’t have traveled all this way to see me again.”

“I told you. I needed closure.”

“Or another mind-blowing orgasm.”

And then he laughed, and Cass stopped midstep, turned to face him. “You’re making me hate you.”

“Good. You should hate me. You shouldn’t have ever accepted what I gave you.” And he pulled her into his arms, pulled her against him so she felt the hard press of his body from his chest to his hips to the thigh he pushed between her legs even as his head descended and his mouth covered hers.

His kiss stole her breath, his mouth forcing her lips open, forcing her surrender. He knew what he wanted and he was determined to have it.

Cass shuddered at the flick of his tongue against her sensitive inner lip, shuddered again as he reached up to clasp the swell of her breast, his palm hard against her nipple, pressing, bearing down even as need coiled in her belly, fierce, sharp insistent.

Her legs trembled and helplessly she arched against him as he strummed her nipple, a pinching, squeezing sensation that tormented her nerves, heightening pleasure to almost pain.

She wanted him.

Now. Here. In her.

She wanted him. Hard. Fast. Furious.

She wanted him and she felt mindless, helpless, his. And he knew, he knew.

She’d give him anything he asked. She’d beg him to take her, fill her, beg him to give her release.

The pressure on her mouth eased and she drank in air as his head briefly lifted.

“You should have demanded more,” he said, his voice rough, raspy with passion. “You should have insisted on more from the very beginning.”

Her head was swimming, spinning, her senses stretched, teased, dazed. She felt empty, achy between her legs. And her heart felt just as empty, and achy in her chest. There would never be true release. Not from him, not with him. He was put on earth to torture her. “Why are you doing this?” she choked.

“Because you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. And it needed to be done. I was never any good for you, bella.”

Her eyes stung. He was being awful, making the ending of this—whatever it was, whatever it had been—excruciating.

She couldn’t bear for it to be awful. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to make everything okay. Closure for her meant making everything okay, but maybe this time there wouldn’t be real closure. At least there wasn’t going to be peace.

Because beyond the discomfort of the moment, beyond the pain, there was pride. And self-respect. As well as something called self-preservation.

If he wasn’t going to help her, protect her, then she had to protect herself.

And if he couldn’t respect her, she had to do that for herself, too.

Tears welled in her eyes and for a moment she felt lost. Abandoned. And it wasn’t something she ever wanted to feel, not again.

No, she had to make sure she was safe. Valued. Treated well. She deserved to be treated well.

And those thoughts, those elusive rational thoughts allowed her to stand on tiptoe and kiss him, kiss him gently, tenderly, kiss him with pain and heartbreak before she broke away, descended the rest of the staircase and exited through the front door.

Maximos stood frozen on the step and watched her go.

He saw her walk through the door and shut it and as the door shut he felt a rush of emotion—mostly rage—before telling himself not to think.

Don’t care.

Quickly he began to climb the stairs again, heading back to his room to change for the excursion Adriana had planned, and as he climbed the stairs he kept chanting don’t think, don’t care, don’t feel. There was no point thinking or feeling now. What was, was. Period.

But Maximos knew he’d hurt her. Knew he’d leveled her, hitting her far harder than was fair, and it made him sick.

He didn’t want her hurt. He didn’t even know why he said what he’d said to her. He was angry, yes. And lashing out. But she wasn’t the one he was angry with. No, his anger was directed at Sobato and Lorna, at the courts…at himself. But not Cass and yet now Cass was standing on the front steps of his house…

He should go to her. Apologize. Explain.

Reaching the top of the staircase, he drew a breath. But explain what? That he’d betrayed her? That he’d knowingly betrayed her for years? How could he explain? That he’d been as unfair to her as Lorna had been to him?

But Cass didn’t know any of that yet. She didn’t know about his real life, the life he’d kept hidden, private, the life that would crush her if she found out.

And she’d soon find out. He had to tell her. Last night he’d determined he’d tell her this weekend, as soon as the wedding was over and Adriana had set off for her honeymoon. It was time. But until the wedding he wanted to keep the drama low…for his family’s sake if nothing else.

Inside his bedroom, Maximos stripped off his shirt and searched through his bureau for another.

His bedroom door opened abruptly. “Maximos.” It was his mother.

“You don’t knock?” he asked, turning to face her.

“I’m your mother.”

“Which is why you should knock. You never know what you might find.”

“Oh, I don’t worry about you doing anything in your bedroom.” His mother’s face was impassive. “You do it on the stairs.”

He shot her a dark glance, resignation tinged with humor. “You shouldn’t be watching.”

“Some things, Maximos, are hard to miss.” His mother remained in the doorway, slim, elegant, very contained. She wasn’t particularly tall and yet she exuded authority. Control. She hadn’t been married to a Guiliano for nearly forty years for nothing. “Now your…guest…is outside with her suitcase. Does she have a ride?”

He slipped on a white linen shirt and began rolling the cuffs back. “I don’t know.”

“Why is she leaving now?”

“I’m not sure—”

“You are sure. You’ve just been fighting with her for the past ten minutes.”

Maximos’s brow lifted. “She needed to go back to Rome. Business.”

“On a Saturday?”

“She’s an advertising executive—”

“On a Saturday?”

“Mama.” His voice dropped, the tone low, a warning.

“Adriana said she was Emilio’s girlfriend,” his mother continued unabashed. “But she’s not, is she? She’s yours.”

“She couldn’t be my girlfriend—”

“I’m not stupid, Maximos. I’m your mother, and I’ve known you longer than two or three years. I know what I heard, and I know what I saw. She doesn’t know the truth, does she?”

He said nothing, his jaw tight.

Signora Guiliano took a step forward, her expression just as fierce as her son’s. “At least tell her the truth. Maybe she’ll think you’re selfish, instead of simply cruel.”

“Thanks.” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her.

She shot him a piercing look before heading to the door. “At least get her a ride back to Rome. No taxi will take her back today.” And she walked out without looking back or saying goodbye.

Maximos stood a moment listening to his mother’s footsteps echo down the hall. Nothing like an overbearing Sicilian mother, he thought, but the corner of his mouth quirked. He loved her. Strong women had never intimidated him.

Cass was standing next to her suitcase on the palazzo’s broad stone steps when the front door opened and Maximos appeared. He’d changed into a casual white linen shirt and khaki shorts.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, standing next to her.

“Yes.”

His expression was quizzical. “How do you intend to get there?”

Cass felt sick on the inside, sick and shaky and she wished she’d never come here, wished she were in Rome where she belonged but she’d leave soon. As soon as she had transportation. “A taxi.”

“No taxi will drive you back to Rome on a Saturday. It’s an all day trip. You’ll need a hire car. Have you reserved one?”

He knew she hadn’t. “No.”

“That poses a problem.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear but refused to look at him. What did he want her to do? Beg? “You could loan me one of your cars.”

“I couldn’t. Insurance issues and all.”

“I’m a good driver. Accident free for over ten years.”

“It’s nothing personal, Cass—”

“Nothing personal? You will sleep with me, but not loan me a car?”

“I’ve had difficulties with car insurance due to an accident a number of years ago. You can ask my mother, or my sisters if you don’t believe—”

“I don’t want to ask them. I just want to go.” Her fingers gripped the suitcase handle tightly.

She’d been so impulsive coming here. But then she’d been a gambler her whole life, a player in the game, confident, bold, aggressive. She’d taken risks in her personal life just the way she’d taken risks in business, but this time, she’d failed.

Failed. Cass blinked back tears thinking that until Maximos entered her life, she’d never failed at anything. “I don’t know what I was thinking…don’t know what I thought would really happen.”

“Maybe you thought I’d see you and remember how much I enjoyed being with you and we’d get back together.”

The tears grew hotter, filling her eyes completely. “Please stop.”

“You came for answers, Cass.”

She had to turn her face away, not wanting him to see the tear sliding down her cheek. “I think I got them.”

“Are you sure you got the right answers?”

There was the strangest note in his voice, a tone akin to suffering but it couldn’t be. This was Maximos after all. And he didn’t feel, and he certainly didn’t suffer. But before she could answer the front door was flung open and Adriana came racing out of the house in a short skirt and bathing suit top.

“Maximos!” Adriana cried, hugely vexed. “What are you doing? We’re all waiting on you and you know we can’t set sail without you. What’s the problem?”

Then Adriana spotted Cass and her expression changed. The look she gave Cass was pure malice. “Are you waiting for Emilio to pick her up?” Adriana asked tersely.

Maximos shook his head. “Emilio’s gone.” He paused. “And Cass isn’t with Emilio. She’s with me.”

Cass’s head jerked up. Adriana looked equally stunned.

The corner of Maximos’s mouth tilted. “I’ve been seeing Cass for over two and a half years.”