Читать книгу The Italians: Luca, Marco and Alessandro - Natalie Anderson - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

SURFACING from the car into a hazy reality, Emily walked beside Luca into the hotel. When she finally focused on her surroundings she almost stumbled. Opulence wasn’t the word. And suddenly she feared she had no place here in her crumpled skirt and camping tee shirt. It was the early afternoon and they were walking into his hotel for an erotic indulgence. She was so turned on, she could hardly walk for the way she’d gone weak at the knees, and she had the horrible feeling that everyone must know. It was so strong to her that surely it must be obvious to everyone else? She longed to return to the quiet solitude they’d had in the warm gardens. This was sophisticated and exclusive and so not her.

He seemed to sense her discomfort, taking her arm and shielding her from the eyes of those in Reception. Smoothly he guided her through the lobby to the lift. It wasn’t a possessive touch, he didn’t put his arm around her and haul her close, it was merely a light hand at her elbow, and the simplicity and the politeness made the doubts wane. There was respect in his manner and she knew he had every intention of taking care of her. Suddenly nothing else mattered.

He didn’t maul her in the lift either, stood beside her quietly, keeping his hand still light on her arm as he escorted her onto his floor. He swiped the key card and opened the door. She walked in, relieved to be alone with him again but still knocked sideways. He didn’t just have a room, he had a suite. She’d guessed he had money, understood he was a financier of some sort. But she hadn’t realised it was quite like this.

She turned to study him, reassessing. All Italians dressed nicely, didn’t they?

‘Second thoughts?’ He was watching her just as keenly. ‘It’s OK to say no.’

Concentrating on him made the intimidating surroundings disappear. She melted all over again.

‘No,’ she said, then smiled naughtily at the flash in his eyes. ‘I don’t want to say no,’ she elaborated firmly.

She watched, quite pleased as with obvious effort he un-clenched his jaw. ‘Good.’

‘It will be the best, won’t it, Luca?’ She searched for final reassurance. Having had a sample of what could only be heaven, she didn’t want disappointment. She’d had that before. ‘I want the best.’ And she did. To be lost from herself for just a few magic moments. One afternoon where she could forget the past and ignore the future. Let go of worries and responsibilities and be free to feel pleasure. It would be the first time and she’d been waiting for ever.

He closed the gap between them with slow, sure steps. His finger traced her lower lip as it had the night at the opera. ‘Don’t doubt it.’

Her eyelids lowered slowly as the crazy lethargy returned. It was as if her senses were tuning out everything except him—his touch, his voice, his scent and his determination. There would be no saying no. It wasn’t even an option, not for her.

This magic, this mysterious man—she wanted to know no more, except of his body. It had been there, from the first glance, the blink and reassessment that had happened in the quickest instance—one body’s recognition of the other.

She didn’t believe in love at first sight. But now she most certainly believed in lust at first sight. Her body programmed to seek his as her mate. It had never happened to her before. The few dates she’d been on, that past boyfriend—she’d felt nothing. But this, this was as if she’d been branded with a white-hot iron—his.

She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. She still couldn’t. Through her half-closed lids she watched him concentrate as slowly, so slowly, the tips of his fingers moved from her lips, brushing down her jaw, her neck and down the slope of her chest. She went taut with anticipation but his path diverted, going around her nipples rather than directly over them. She hissed out her breath, wanting him to touch her there.

But his fingers skimmed down her sides, and then took the hem of her tee shirt. Carefully he raised it, automatically she lifted her arms to help. In a second he had it off her, and tossed it to the side.

She stared at him, unashamed about the way her full breasts were trying to burst out of her bra, at the way her nipples were pressing hard against the fabric—begging him the only way they could. She just wanted him to touch.

His jaw was clenched hard again. His hands lifted. The light, gentle fingertips went back to her waist, slipping around her skirt to find the zip.

She wriggled her hips to help it slide down. And then she was standing before him, for a second stupidly hoping that it didn’t matter that her bra and briefs didn’t match.

He curved his arms right around her, fingers at work once more, unclasping the hooks. The straps loosened. He tweaked them at her shoulder and the shells of her bra slipped from her breasts.

For a moment there was nothing, only his fierce attention as he looked, colour rising in his face. She was almost about to plead when his hands lifted, cupping her breasts the way her bra had, only pushing them a little higher and then closer together. His thumbs rubbed gently over her peaking nipples as his hands explored their soft weight.

Her mouth opened, unconsciously doing what she wanted him to do—to open up and taste her.

His gaze lifted to meet hers, reading her expression, revealing his own hot desire. And then his mouth caught hers in a kiss that was deep and carnal and demanding, his tongue driving in and claiming. She met him, stroke for stroke, thrusting her hands into his hair and holding him. But he moved his kiss. Following the path his fingers had taken from her mouth, her jaw, her neck until finally, thankfully he was kissing her chest, up the slopes to where his hands held her breasts, pushing them together so his tongue could assault both her nipples with strong licks, and then he sucked her into his mouth.

She swayed towards him, the heat turning mass and muscle to liquid. But at her unbridled moan he lifted away, his thumbs instantly working to soothe the yearning in her breasts.

‘Do you want me to take my shirt off, or do you want to do it yourself?’ His breathlessness heightened her longing.

She too was breathing hard but she couldn’t pass on the challenge or the pleasure. ‘Let me.’

She fumbled with the first button but got the knack of them after the next. Drinking in the sight of his chest as it was slowly revealed. She reached out a hand, touched the hard heat of it, feeling the roughness where hair dappled it, finally placing her hand back over his heart. To where he’d placed it in the garden but this time on bare skin, feeling the life force beating, feeling the rhythm. And then she scraped his nipple with the tip of her thumb, watched the definition of his abs go even sharper. She pushed the shirt off his broad shoulders, stretching her arms wide to reach down his arms. All rock-hard, barely restrained muscle.

At that she didn’t hesitate to go lower and pull out the loop of his belt. His trousers dropped to the floor. Then she was confronted with his boxers—and their package.

She blew out the breath she’d seemed to be holding for ever. Feeling the heat suffuse her cheeks, she tried to stretch the fabric over his large erection. Until, hands shaking, feeling both embarrassed and excited, she mumbled, ‘I think you better do…that bit.’

He caught her wrists and pulled her close, laughter rumbling in his chest. ‘But shouldn’t that be the best bit?’

She nodded. ‘I’m sure it is, but I might need a moment to get used to it.’

He kissed her again, long and deep, and then without warning pushed her back onto the bed, coming down hard on top. She wriggled, unbelievably happy to have the weight of him on her at last.

He held his head from hers, teasing. ‘I think we should take things very, very slow.’

If this was taking things slow, then heaven help her if he decided to speed them up.

But then he did go slow. Kisses trailed and fingers toyed as he did as he’d promised and kissed her all over her body. As he peeled off her panties and made his way back to the tops of her thighs she couldn’t hold back the squirm—overly aware of what was going to happen.

‘Don’t be shy,’ he said calmly.

She breathed in deep. He was right. Why be shy? This was her afternoon, after all. She reached out a hand, felt the strength of his thigh. Rubbed her fingers through the masculine hair, felt the muscles working underneath it. And found her appetite to explore more was ravenous. How good he felt beneath her fingers—how much better might he feel beneath her lips? So she tried exactly that. Never had she had such a body to explore before—to taste, to delight in. Now she understood why humans sought beauty, marvelled in it, celebrated it.

Perfection.

Silently he let her play, she could feel him watching her, feel the tension mounting until he suddenly jerked away from her, pulling open the drawer in the table beside the bed so hard the whole thing fell out. No matter, he had what he wanted, was out of the boxers, had rolled the condom on and she watched and smiled, knowing that soon, soon, soon, she would have all that she wanted.

He took the lead again, pinning her down with his heavy, strong body. And she poised, waiting for him to move, wanting him to thrust into her.

But still he didn’t. He smiled, that cheeky, boyish smile, and moved down her body. Doing once more as he’d promised, kissing her with wet, deep kisses all over her body. Only this time he did go all over. Until then he was kissing her there and only there—the most intimate of places. His fingers joining in too until she was rocking and pleading and about to burst. She thrashed, arms raking the sheets, not wanting it to end yet, wanting all of him but unable to hold herself back.

‘Don’t fight it,’ he commanded.

And she couldn’t any more. She gave in to the insistence of his mouth and fingers, lost control completely with a harsh cry. Every limb stretched long, her body arched and taut and then suddenly buckling, writhing as the tension snapped and pleasure pulsed through every cell.

Even as she was still shuddering he was moving back up her length. Kissing her stomach as it spasmed, then her screaming tight nipples were anointed by his tongue again.

He was above her now, his hand gently stroking down her jaw. She opened her eyes to find him watching her closely. She could hide nothing from him.

‘You were right,’ she panted. ‘That was the best.’

There was no answering smile. ‘No.’ His eyes bored into hers, intense, serious and incredibly focused. ‘That was just the beginning.’

The force of it was almost a threat. Half dizzy, she shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I can…’

She felt him then, hard and thick, probing in her wetness. With a whoosh the fire inside raged back. The tiny moment of calm obliterated as the storm broke.

His hands cupped her bottom, moving her to accept him, making her mould and melt for him. She cried out at his devastating, overpowering demand.

‘You can do it,’ his voice encouraged gently, while his body wielded its mastery.

What she couldn’t do was hold back any longer. She bent her knees, instinctively opening up more for him. She’d thought she’d been unleashed before but she’d been dreaming. Now she was beyond boundaries. There was nothing left—no thought, no shyness, no self-consciousness, no self-control as she shuddered beneath him, finally absorbing every last inch.

The rough moan that passed her lips as she arched her back was the result of raw bliss. She sighed, louder, lifting to meet him once more, unable to believe how fantastic he felt. She stroked her hand down the hard strength of his back, kissed the skin nearest to her—up and down the column of his throat, tasting the salt in the hollow of his shoulder, delighting in the way his beautiful, big body locked so completely into hers. She pressed her hips in time to meet his—again and then again, following the rhythm he set, faster and faster until finally they were moving together with a pace that was frantic, the feral sounds from her throat matched by the hoarse grunts from his. Sweat slicked them. Temperatures and sensations spiked so high that in the heat and light and speed of it all there was nothing but brilliance. Her fingers curled into claws, scouring across his skin, making him pummel so hard and so deep and so deliciously that she screamed her way to the stars and beyond.

‘Open your eyes.’

She automatically obeyed. The ceiling was above her. So the world still existed. She hadn’t been sure until then.

‘Look at me.’

She couldn’t ignore the imperative.

He had slid down the bed a bit, so his body was no longer crushing hers. Dazed, she studied the difference in their colouring. She had come from a cold winter so her skin was pale, whereas his olive complexion had been enhanced in the height of the European summer. Between her legs she could feel his strength, his heart thudding intimately against her thigh.

He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. Then a sort of smile twisted his lips. ‘You’re very beautiful, Emily.’

She almost smiled too but couldn’t quite manage it in the tumbling emotional aftermath. ‘Is it always like that for you?’

‘No.’

Of course he would say that. She knew now what a gentleman he was.

His gaze dropped from hers and he pressed a kiss to her hip. ‘It is never like that.’

As he spoke the words faint colour stained his cheeks and she was suddenly certain he was speaking the truth. She closed her eyes again, desperately needing to rest, to recover from the sensory overload and to deny the fleeting feeling of regret that there would be no more than this moment. He moved to lie beside her, drawing the sheet up to cover their cooling skin, bringing her head onto his chest and sliding his strong arms around her, giving her trembling body the comfort of a sure embrace.

She didn’t know how long she slept. It couldn’t have been that long as the sun was still high in the sky. He was awake, watching her with eyes so dark and deep they were almost all black. She didn’t know what to say to him. How could she possibly express the intensity she’d felt?

But he shook his head slightly as if he knew. There shouldn’t be words; they couldn’t do it justice.

‘Shower with me.’ He stood from the bed and as she stared at his magnificent form the urge inside flared once more.

Her hunger must have been obvious because he smiled. ‘I want to see you come again, Emily.’

She rose onto all fours, feeling the thrill of power as his eyes widened at the sight of her. ‘Well, I guess that’s up to you.’

The shower had never been such an exotic, erotic experience. He carried her, still connected to her, back to the bed so he could continue to manipulate her body, making her respond in a way that was fierce and passionate and almost frightening but all incredible.

For a while they lay, half-dozing, half-wrapped in towels, and through the window she watched the blue of the sky intensify. Finally she stirred, achingly stunned but also content.

‘I’d better get back to the hostel.’

He didn’t argue. In almost companionable silence they dressed. She drifted her way downstairs, uncaring of anyone’s opinion now. None of that mattered—not in the face of this moment of bliss.

It was only when they were leaving the hotel that he spoke. ‘You fly to London tomorrow?’

‘Yes.’ She chose not to look in his face, or at the impending reality. It was what it was, it had been shockingly wonderful, and there was nothing else to say.

Luca escorted her through the streets and fought to regain mastery over his emotions. She’d just torn every shred of self-control and reservation from him. He’d expected sweet, simple enthusiasm and he’d got a vehement passion that had rocked him to the core.

He wanted more. Oh, my God, he wanted. It was good she was going. Because despite that deep response, she was young and inexperienced and he’d be a heel to take advantage any more than he already had. The very occasional affairs he had were ultra short and he only had them with women well used to that sort of game. That wasn’t Emily.

Yet the glow that had enveloped her as she lay cushioning him was like a soft, flattering light—it was how she was meant to look. Utterly beautiful and the most sensual person he’d known—and the most dangerous. Because if she could rip him open in one afternoon, what would she threaten if he saw her again? Luca had spent the best part of a decade sealing away his emotions, had zero tolerance for that kind of risk. He’d held and lost too much before and he wasn’t taking the chance on it ever happening again.

Maybe he should feel guilty already but he couldn’t. He’d seen the completion in her eyes—that he’d given her. It had made him feel mightier than anything. And she’d asked him for it, accepted it—understanding without asking why that this afternoon was all there could be. But, ironically, that got to him. Why didn’t she want more?

She turned to him across the street from the hostel. It hung on her now, the last vestiges of satisfaction. She smiled, a serene smile that he wanted to capture and keep in his memory for ever. ‘Thank you, Luca. It was the best, wasn’t it?’

He nodded, unable to speak. He tilted her chin towards him with a finger, brushed her lips with his. He intended only a light kiss, a sweet goodbye to an even sweeter afternoon. But her mouth opened to him and he couldn’t stop going further. And the fingers that he’d lightly rested under her chin slipped further to cup the back of her neck and pull her that little bit closer. He stroked the soft heat of her mouth with his tongue. The tiny moan in the back of her throat almost tipped him into madness.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he looked into those luminous green eyes that one last time and choked, ‘Ciao, bella.’

He turned his back to the hostel, to her, and walked. Instinctive reluctance tried to drag him back. He resisted with the determination that had seen him climb to the top of his ultra-competitive market. Yet even as he pushed his feet away he pulled out his PDA. He might not be going to see her again, but he couldn’t beat the desire to ensure her arrival in London was secure—couldn’t beat the need to know she was safe.