Читать книгу Modern Romance Collection: November 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Эбби Грин, Julia James - Страница 19

CHAPTER NINE

THE CLOCK WAS striking seven and Matteo gave a click of impatience as he paced the drawing room, where an enormous fire crackled and burned. Where the hell was she? He didn’t like to be kept waiting—not by anyone, and especially not by a woman who ought to have been bang on time and full of gratitude for his generosity towards her. He wondered how long it would have taken Keira to discover how much she liked trying on lavish clothes. Or how quickly she’d decided it was a turn-on when a man was prepared to buy you an entire new wardrobe, with no expense spared. He was just about to send Roberto upstairs to remind her of the time, when the door opened and there she stood, pale-faced and slightly uncertain.

Matteo’s heart pounded hard in his chest because she looked... He shook his head slightly as if to clear his vision, but the image didn’t alter. She looked unrecognisable. Light curls of glossy black tumbled over her narrow shoulders and, with mascara and eyeliner, her sapphire eyes looked enormous. Her lips were as red as her dress and he found himself wanting to kiss away her unfamiliar lipstick. But it was her body which commanded the most attention. Santo cielo! What a body! Scarlet silk clung to the creamy curve of her breasts, the material gliding in over the indentation of her waist, then flaring gently over her hips. Sheer stockings encased her legs and skyscraper heels meant she looked much taller than usual.

He swallowed because the transformation was exactly what he’d wanted—a woman on his arm who would turn heads for all the right reasons—and yet now he was left with intense frustration pulsing through his veins. He wanted to call their host and cancel and to take her straight to bed instead, but he was aware that such a move would be unwise. He had less than twenty-four hours to get Keira Ryan to agree to his plan—and that would not be achieved by putting lust before logic.

‘You look...beautiful,’ he said unsteadily, noticing how pink her cheeks had grown in response to his compliment, and he was reminded once again of her innocence and inexperience.

She tugged at the skirt of the dress as if trying to lengthen it. ‘I feel a bit underdressed, to be honest.’

He shook his head. ‘If that were the case then I certainly wouldn’t let you leave the house.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘What, you mean you’d keep me here by force? Prisoner of the Italian tycoon?’

He smiled. ‘I’ve always found persuasion to be far more effective than force. I assume Leola organised a suitable coat for you to wear?’

‘A coat?’ She stared at him blankly.

‘It’s November, Keira, and we’re going to a party in the city. It might be warmer than back in England, but you’ll still need to wrap up.’

Keira’s stomach did a flip. ‘You didn’t mention a party.’

‘Didn’t I? Well, I’m mentioning it now.’

She gave the dress another tug. ‘Whose party is it?’

‘An old friend of mine. Salvatore di Luca. It’s his birthday—and it will be the perfect opportunity for you to meet people. It would be a pity for you not to have an audience when you look so very dazzling.’ His gaze travelled over her and his voice thickened. ‘So why not go and get your coat? The car’s waiting.’

Keira felt nerves wash over her. She was tempted to tell him she’d rather stay home and eat a panino in front of the fire, instead of having to face a roomful of strangers—but she was afraid of coming over as some kind of social misfit. Was this some strange kind of interview to assess whether or not she would be up to the task of being Matteo’s partner? To see if she was capable of making conversation with his wealthy friends, of getting through a whole evening without dropping a canapé down the front of her dress?

Her black velvet swing coat was lined with softest cashmere and Keira hugged it around herself as the driver opened the door of the waiting limousine, her heart missing a beat as Matteo slid onto the seat beside her. His potent masculinity was almost as distracting as the dark suit which fitted his muscular body to perfection and made him look like some kind of movie star on his way to an awards ceremony. ‘You aren’t driving, then?’ she observed.

‘Not tonight. I have a few calls I need to make.’ His black eyes gleamed. ‘After that I’m exclusively yours.’

The way he said it sent ripples of excitement whispering over her skin and she wondered if that had been deliberate. But there was apprehension too because Keira wasn’t sure she would be able to cope with the full blaze of his undivided attention. Not when he was being so...nice to her.

She suspected he was on his best behaviour because he wanted her to agree to his masterplan—whenever he got around to unveiling it. And although he hadn’t shown any desire to parent their son, something told her that he saw Santino as his possession, even if so far he had exhibited no signs of love. Because of that, she suspected he wouldn’t let her go easily and the stupid part was that she didn’t want him to. She was beginning to recognise that she was out of her depth—and not just because he was a billionaire hotelier and she a one-time car mechanic. She didn’t have any experience of relationships and she didn’t have a clue how to react to him. Part of her wished she were still in the driver’s seat, negotiating the roads with a slick professionalism she’d been proud of until she’d ruined her career in the arms of the man who sat beside her, his long legs stretched indolently in front of him.

She forced herself to drag her eyes away from the taut tension of his thighs—and at least there was plenty to distract her as she gazed out of the window at the lights of the city and the stunning Roman architecture, which made her feel as if she’d fallen straight into the pages of a guide book.

Salvatore de Luca’s apartment was in the centre of it all—a penthouse situated close to the Via del Corso and offering commanding views of the city centre. Keira was dimly aware of a maid taking her coat and a cocktail being pressed into her hand and lots of people milling around. To her horror she could see that every other woman was wearing elegant black and her own expensive scarlet dress made her feel like something which had fallen off the Christmas tree. And it wasn’t just the colour. She wasn’t used to displaying a hint of cleavage, or wearing a dress which came this high above the knee. She felt like an imposter—someone who’d been more at home with her hair hidden beneath that peaked hat, instead of cascading over her shoulders like this.

She saw a couple of the men give her glances which lingered more than they should have done—or was that just something Italian men did automatically? Certainly, Matteo seemed to be watching her closely as he introduced her to a dizzying array of friends and she couldn’t deny the thrill it gave her to feel those dark eyes following her every move.

Keira did her best to chat animatedly, hugely grateful that nearly everybody spoke perfect English, but conversation wasn’t easy. She was glaringly aware of not mentioning the one subject which was embedded deeply in her heart and that was Santino. She wondered when Matteo was planning to announce that he was a father and what would happen when he did. Did any of his friends have children? she wondered. This apartment certainly didn’t look child-friendly and she couldn’t imagine a toddler crawling around on these priceless rugs, with sticky fingers.

Escaping from the growing pitch of noise to the washroom, Keira took advantage of the relative calm and began to peep into some of the rooms on her way back to the party. Entering only those with open doors, she discovered a bewildering number of hand-painted salons which reminded her of Matteo’s villa. His home wasn’t exactly child-friendly either, was it?

The room she liked best was small and book-lined—not because she was the world’s greatest reader but because it opened out onto a lovely balcony with tall green plants in pots and fabulous views over the glittering city. She stood there for a moment with her arms resting on the balustrade when she heard the clip-clop of heels enter the room behind her and she turned to see a tall redhead who she hadn’t noticed before. Maybe she was a late arrival, because she certainly wasn’t the kind of woman you would forget in a hurry. Her green gaze was searching rather than friendly and Keira had to concentrate very hard not to be fixated on the row of emeralds which gleamed at her slender throat and matched her eyes perfectly.

‘So you’re the woman who’s been keeping Matteo off the scene,’ the woman said, her soft Italian accent making her sound like someone who could have a very lucrative career in radio voice-overs.

Keira left the chilly balcony and stepped into the room. ‘Hello, I’m Keira.’ She smiled. ‘And you are?’

‘Donatella.’ Her green eyes narrowed, as if she was surprised that Keira didn’t already know this. ‘Your dress is very beautiful.’

‘Thank you.’

There was a pause as Donatella’s gaze flickered over her. ‘Everyone is curious to know how you’ve managed to snare Italy’s most elusive bachelor.’

‘He’s not a rabbit!’ joked Keira.

Either Donatella didn’t get the joke or she’d decided it wasn’t funny because she didn’t smile. ‘So when did you two first meet?’

Aware of the sudden race of her heart, Keira suddenly felt intimidated. As if she was being backed into a corner, only she didn’t know why. ‘Just under a year ago.’

‘When, exactly?’ probed the redhead.

Keira wasn’t the most experienced person when it came to social etiquette, but even she could work out when somebody was crossing the line. ‘Does it really matter?’

‘I’m curious, that’s all. It wouldn’t happen to have been two nights before Christmas, would it?’

The date was burned so vividly on Keira’s memory that the affirmation burst from her lips without her even thinking about it. ‘Yes, it was,’ she said. ‘How on earth did you know that?’

‘Because he was supposed to be meeting me that night,’ said Donatella, with a wry smile. ‘And then I got a call from his assistant to say his plane couldn’t take off because of the snow.’

‘That’s true. The weather was terrible,’ said Keira.

‘And then, when he got back—nothing. Complete radio silence—even though the word was out that there was nobody else on the scene.’ Donatella’s green eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Interesting. You’re not what I expected.’

Even though she hadn’t eaten any of the canapés which had been doing the rounds, Keira suddenly felt sick. All she could think about was the fact that another woman had been waiting for Matteo while he’d been in bed with her. He must have had his assistant call Donatella while she’d been in the bath and then preceded to seduce her. Had it been a case of any woman would do as a recipient of all that hard hunger? A man who’d been intent on sex and was determined not to have his wishes thwarted? What if all that stuff about not finding her attractive had simply been the seasoned technique of an expert who’d recognised that he needed to get her to relax before leaping on her. She swallowed. Had he been imagining it was Donatella beneath him instead of her?

‘Well, you know what they say...there’s no accounting for taste.’ From somewhere Keira dredged up a smile. ‘Great meeting you, Donatella.’

But she was trembling by the time she located Matteo, surrounded by a group of men and women who were hanging onto his every word, and maybe he read something in her face because he instantly disengaged himself and came over to her side.

‘Everything okay?’ he questioned.

‘Absolutely lovely,’ she said brightly, for the benefit of the onlookers. ‘But I’d like to go now, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m awfully tired.’

His dark brows lifted. ‘Certamente. Come, let us slip away, cara.’

The practised ease with which the meaningless endearment fell from his lips made Donatella’s words seem even more potent and in the car Keira sat as far away from him as possible, placing her finger on her lips and shaking her head when he tried to talk to her. She felt stupidly emotional and close to tears but there was no way she was going to break down in front of his driver. She knew better than most how domestic upsets could liven up a sometimes predictable job and that a chauffeur had a front-row seat to these kinds of drama. It wasn’t until they were back in the villa, where a fire in the drawing room had obviously been kept banked for their return, that she turned to Matteo at last, trying to keep the edge of hysteria from her voice.

‘I met Donatella,’ she said.

‘I wondered if you would. She arrived late.’

‘I don’t give a damn when she arrived!’ She flung her sparkly scarlet clutch bag down onto a brocade sofa where it bounced against a tasselled cushion. ‘She told me you were supposed to be meeting her the night we got stuck in the snow!’

‘That much is true.’

She was so horrified by his easy agreement that Keira could barely choke out her next words. ‘So you were in a sexual relationship with another woman when you seduced me?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I was not. I’d been dating her for a few weeks, but it had never progressed beyond dinner and the occasional trip to the opera.’

‘And you expect me to believe that?’

‘Why wouldn’t you believe it, Keira?’

‘Because...’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘Because you didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would chastely court a woman like that.’

‘Strangely enough, that’s how I like to operate.’

‘But not with me,’ she said bitterly. ‘Or maybe you just didn’t think I was worth buying dinner for.’

Matteo tensed as he read the hurt and shame which clouded her sapphire eyes and was surprised how bad it made him feel. He knew he owed her an explanation but he sensed that this went deeper than anything he’d had to talk his way out of in the past, and part of him rebelled at having to lay his thoughts open. But he sensed there was no alternative. That despite the ease with which she had fallen into his arms, Keira Ryan was no pushover.

‘Oh, you were worth it, all right,’ he said softly. ‘Just because we didn’t do the conventional thing of having dinner doesn’t change the fact that it was the most unforgettable night of my life.’

‘Don’t tell me lies!’

‘It isn’t a lie, Keira,’ he said simply. ‘It was amazing. We both know that.’

He saw her face working, as if she was struggling to contain her emotions.

‘And then,’ she said, on a gulp, ‘when you got back—she says you didn’t see her again.’

‘Again, true.’

‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘There was nothing stopping you. Especially after you’d given me the heave-ho.’

If he was surprised by her persistence he didn’t show it and Matteo felt conflicted about how far to go with his answer. Mightn’t it be brutal to explain that he’d been so appalled at his recklessness that night that he’d decided he needed a break from women? If he told her that he’d never had a one-night stand before, because it went against everything he believed in, mightn’t it hurt her more than was necessary? He didn’t believe in love—not for him—but he believed in passion and, in his experience, it was always worth the wait. Deferred gratification increased the appetite and made seduction sweeter. And delaying his own pleasure reinforced his certainty that he was always in control.

Yet his usual fastidiousness had deserted him that snowy night when he’d found himself in bed with his petite driver, and it had affected him long after he’d returned to Italy. It wasn’t an admission he particularly wanted to make but something told him it would work well in his favour if he did. What was it the Americans said? Ah, sì. It would buy him brownie points. ‘I haven’t had sex with anyone since the night I spent with you. Well, until last night,’ he said.

Her eyes widened and the silence of the room was broken only by the loud ticking of the clock before she blurted out a single word.

‘Why?’ she breathed.

He bent to throw an unnecessary log onto the already blazing fire before straightening up to face the dazed disbelief which had darkened her eyes. He had tried convincing himself it had been self-disgust which had made him retreat into his shell when he’d returned to Rome, but deep down he’d known that wasn’t the whole story.

‘Because, annoyingly, I couldn’t seem to shift you from my mind,’ he drawled. ‘And before you start shaking your head like that and telling me I don’t mean it, let me assure you I do.’

‘But why?’ she questioned. ‘I mean, why me?’

He paused long enough to let her know that he’d asked himself the same question. ‘Who knows the subtle alchemy behind these things?’ He shrugged, his gaze roving over her as he drank in the creamy curves of her flesh. ‘Maybe because you were different. Because you spoke to me in a way that people usually don’t. Or maybe because you were a virgin and on some subliminal level I understood that and it appealed to me. Why are you looking at me that way, Keira? You think that kind of thing doesn’t matter? That a man doesn’t feel an incomparable thrill of pleasure to discover that he is the first and the only one? Then you are very wrong.’

Keira felt faint and sank down onto the brocade sofa, next to her discarded clutch bag. His words were shockingly old-fashioned but that didn’t lessen their impact on her, did it? It didn’t stop her from feeling incredibly desired as his black gaze skated over her body and hinted at the things he might like to do to her.

Did her lips open of their own accord or did he somehow orchestrate her reaction from his position by the fireplace—like some puppet master twitching invisible strings? Was that why a hard gleam suddenly entered his eyes as he walked towards her and pulled her to her feet.

‘I think we’re done with talking, don’t you?’ he questioned unsteadily. ‘Haven’t I answered all your questions and told you everything you need to know?’

‘Matteo, I—’

‘I’m going to make love to you again,’ he said, cutting right through her protest. ‘Only this time it’s going to be in a bed and it’s going to be all night long. And please don’t pretend you’re outraged by the idea, when the look on your face says otherwise.’

‘Or maybe you’re just going to do it to pacify me?’ she challenged. ‘Like you did last night.’

‘Last night we were in the middle of a howling storm and I wasn’t really thinking straight, but today I am.’

And with that he lifted her up into his arms and swept her from the room and it occurred to Keira that no way would she have objected to such masterful treatment, even if he had given her the option. Because wasn’t he making her feel like a woman who was completely desired—a woman for whom nothing but pleasure beckoned? Up the curving marble staircase he carried her, her ear pressed closely to his chest so she could hear the thundering of his heart. It felt like something from a film as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind them. Unreal. Just as the excitement coursing through her body felt unreal. Was it wrong to feel this rush of hungry pleasure as Matteo unzipped the scarlet dress and let it fall carelessly onto the silken rug? Or for her to gasp out words of encouragement from lips soon swollen by the pressure of his kiss?

Her bra swiftly followed and she gave a squeal of protesting pleasure as he hooked his fingers into the edges of her panties and ripped them apart and didn’t that thrill her, too? Showing similar disregard for his own clothes, he tore them from his body like a man with the hounds of hell snapping at his ankles. But once they were both naked on the bed, he slowed things right down.

‘These curves,’ he said unevenly as his fingertips trickled over her breasts and hips.

‘You don’t like them?’ she questioned breathlessly.

‘Whatever gave you that idea? I seem to like you lean and I seem to like you rounded. Any way at all is okay with me, Keira.’

Slowly, he ran his fingertip from neck to belly before sliding it down between her thighs, nudging it lightly against her wet heat in a lazy and rhythmical movement. She shivered and had to stifle a frustrated moan as he moved his hand away. But then his mouth began to follow the same path as his fingers and Keira held her breath as she felt his lips acquainting themselves with the soft tangle of hair at her groin before he burrowed his head deep between her legs and made that first unbelievable flick of his tongue against her slick and heated flesh.

‘Matteo!’ she gasped, almost shooting off the bed with pleasure. ‘What...what are you doing?’

He lifted his head and she saw pure devilry in his black eyes. ‘I’m going to eat you, cara mia,’ he purred, before bending his head to resume his task.

Keira let her head fall helplessly back against the pillow as he worked sweet magic with his tongue, loving the way he imprisoned her wriggling hips with the firm clamp of his hands. She came so quickly that it took her by surprise—as did the sudden way he moved over her to thrust deep inside her, while her body was still racked with those delicious spasms. She clung to his shoulders as he started a sweet, sure rhythm which set senses singing.

But suddenly his face hardened as he grew still inside her. ‘How long do you think I can stop myself from coming?’ he husked.

‘Do you...?’ She could barely get the words out when he was filling her like this. ‘Do you have to stop yourself?’

‘That depends. I do if you’re going to have a second orgasm, which is my intention,’ he murmured. ‘In fact, I’m planning to make you come so often that you’ll have lost count by the morning.’

‘Oh, Matteo.’ She closed her eyes as he levered himself to his knees and went even deeper.

She moaned as the finger moved between their joined bodies to alight on the tight nub between her legs and began to rub against her while he was deep inside her. The pleasure it gave her was almost too much to bear and it felt as if she were going to come apart at the seams. She gasped as pleasure and pressure combined in an unstoppable force. Until everything splintered around her. She heard him groan as his own body starting to convulse before eventually collapsing on top of her, his head resting on her shoulder and his shuddered breath hot and rapid against her neck.

His arms tightened around her waist and for countless seconds Keira felt as if she were floating on a cloud. Had he really told her he hadn’t slept with anyone else because he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind? Yes, he had. With a sigh of satisfaction, she rested her cheek against his shoulder and he murmured something soft in Italian in response.

She lay there for a long time after he’d fallen asleep, thinking that sex could blind you to the truth. Or maybe lull you into such a stupefied state that you stopped seeking the truth. He’d commented on her curves and admired them with his hands, but he’d made no mention of why her body had undergone such a dramatic transformation. She bit her lip. Because she’d carried his son and given birth to him—a fact he seemed to find all too easy to forget.

And she thought how—despite the heart-stopping intimacy of what had just taken place—she still didn’t know Matteo at all.