by Lucy King
‘Is it?’ he murmured, one dark eyebrow raised. ‘Why?’
‘I was going to offer to kiss you better.’
‘Well, you know, I’m not completely healed,’ he said with a slow, devastating smile.
‘Where do you hurt?’
‘Everywhere.’
CHAPTER TEN
THE ALARM THAT went off on the phone Rico had lent to Carla shattered the early-morning peace and jolted him out of the deepest sleep he’d had in years, which on the one hand was surprising when he usually slept fitfully, but on the other wasn’t, given that night had been making way for dawn by the time they had finally crashed out.
He’d never had a night like it, he thought, giving his eyes a quick rub and his body a stretch that made his muscles twinge. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of Carla sidling up his stairs—his fantasy brought to life, only better—and then lying sprawled on his bed, a goddess of his very own in all her nearly naked perfection. Nor would he ever forget the scent and taste of her, spicy and sweet, or the wildness of her response.
For the briefest of moments it had struck him that he shouldn’t be sullying her perfection with all his flaws and the murky history of the things he’d done, but then she’d revealed how much she’d wanted him and his mind had gone blank. The minute he’d put his hands and mouth on her that had been that for rational thought. He’d been swamped with heat and desire and sensation and had had no sense of time.
Eventually, driven by hunger of an entirely different kind, he’d brought up the linguine from the night before, which they’d devoured before going for a late-night dip in the pool that had been less of a swim than a hot, wet tangle of limbs that had resulted in a lot of water being sloshed over the side.
He’d lost count of the number of orgasms he’d given and received. Even though he said it himself, for someone who’d recently had the kind of accident that required surgery and rehabilitation, his stamina had been impressive. But then, he’d had a powerful incentive. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the sharp sensations that came with sex and the sweet oblivion that followed. How intensely he felt, how sensationally he came alive.
Not that he’d ever had sex like this. He’d never met anyone like Carla, who so easily matched his voracious demands and wasn’t afraid to make some of her own. He’d never experienced pleasure so great it blew the top of his head off.
It was a shame she was leaving. He wouldn’t mind some more, because instead of going away, as he’d idiotically assumed it would, his need for her had only got stronger. But she was leaving. And that was that.
Unless it wasn’t...
Maybe she didn’t have to go just yet, he thought, his pulse suddenly pounding, every muscle in his body tensing at the realisation that perhaps he could have more. Maybe she could stick around for a little while longer. Hadn’t she told him she’d arranged a week’s leave? Hadn’t she said she had no real plans? What if he asked her to stay? Not for ever, never that, but certainly until she had to return home to work.
If she said no, that would be that. After her revelations about her youth, there was no way in hell he’d try and manipulate her into changing her mind. He’d accept her decision with good grace, see her off and set about restarting his interrupted plan to get back to the life he’d had prior to his accident.
But he badly hoped she’d say yes, because he wasn’t ready to let her go.
* * *
With the echo of the alarm still ringing in her ears, Carla shifted and yawned, achingly aware of the devastatingly talented man lying beside her, who’d taken her to heaven and back several times over the course of yesterday afternoon and last night. She opened her eyes to find him propped up on an elbow, watching her with an expression that was as unfathomable as it was intense, and gave him an unstoppable smile.
‘Buon giorno,’ he said, his sleep-roughened voice sending shivers rippling through her and bringing with it a hot flurry of scorchingly vivid memories of everything they’d done together.
‘I don’t know about that,’ she murmured, feeling herself flush and stamping down hard on the regret that they wouldn’t be doing any of it again. ‘It’s horrendously early. But I should start packing. My flight leaves in less than two hours.’
‘Stay.’
At the huskily uttered word—not quite a suggestion, not quite a demand—Carla went very still. ‘What?’
‘Stay.’
Was he joking? He didn’t look as if he was. He looked more serious than she’d ever seen him. So could she be dreaming? Nope. She was awake. Wide awake now.
What was he doing?
Perhaps the novelty of sex after three long months without it—to which he’d confessed while heating up the linguine—had addled his brain. Or perhaps it was the lack of sleep. He’d gone out like a light the minute his head hit the pillows he’d retrieved off the floor after they’d taken a long, hot shower to wash the chlorine from the pool off each other. She’d taken a while longer, partly because he’d spread himself across the vast bed as if trying to occupy as much space as possible, which had left her perilously close to the edge, and partly because he was not a peaceful sleeper. He twitched and shifted as if the slightest noise might have him sitting bolt upright—a hang-up from his life on the streets?—and it had made her conscious of her breathing, which had kept her awake for a while.
‘I thought we agreed this was a one-night thing only,’ she said carefully, willing her strangely galloping pulse to slow down.
‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re on leave and I want more.’
Well, so did she, if she was being honest, because she’d never experienced the fiery passion he aroused in her, but extending her stay was out of the question. She had things to do back home. She wasn’t sure quite what yet, but the minute she landed she’d be compiling an extensive to-do list.
And despite the head-wrecking pleasure she’d experienced recently she hadn’t forgotten the whole justification for deciding to sleep with him in the first place. She needed to leave to protect herself. Rico was far too compelling and fascinating and she couldn’t risk developing an interest in him that went beyond the physical. If that happened she’d slide into seriously dangerous territory where her emotions became involved and the very essence of who she was would be at risk.
On the other hand, where was she ever going to get sex like this again? She might as well admit that she was already addicted to the way he made her feel. By sticking to the plan and waltzing off with a breezy smile and a casual wave, might she not be cutting her nose off to spite her face?
She had no doubt that it would be far safer to walk away and continue to live her perfectly fine life, which had no soaring highs but no plummeting lows either, but was that really how she saw the rest of her existence? Didn’t that somehow smack of opting out? Didn’t it imply that she was still affected by what had happened to her when she was young?
What if she actually took a risk for a change? So what if they talked? Where was the danger in that? She was struggling to continue to deny the curiosity burning up inside her. She was desperate to get to know the man beneath the surface, and it wasn’t as if she was going to lose control or anything. While Rico’s interest in her was flattering, it was hardly something she would let go to her head, and with his detachment she had no need to worry about the dangers of getting emotionally involved. He’d never allow it. Her defences would remain in place. She’d keep herself safe. And it hadn’t escaped her that she still hadn’t managed to convince him to meet Finn.
Here was a chance to kill several birds with one stone, she thought, a faint stab of guilt piercing the fiery desire that was unfurling in the pit of her stomach and stealing into every part of her. She might never have the opportunity again.
‘All right.’
* * *
Twenty-f
our hours later, with the thundering of his heart receding and his breath evening out, Rico stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, which was still spinning, and congratulated himself once again on the brilliance of his decision to ask Carla to stay. The moment she’d agreed—which had filled him with greater relief than he could ever have imagined the suggestion warranted—he’d rolled her beneath him, and, with the exception of the phone call he’d made half an hour later, they’d barely made it out of his bed since. He was feeling fitter and more energised than he had in ages and he couldn’t think of anyone with whom he’d rather make up for the abstinence of the last three months.
‘So what are we going to do today?’ she murmured huskily, stretching languidly beside him.
‘I have an idea,’ he said as unbelievably his body began to stir yet again.
She batted him with a pillow. ‘I know I’m on leave,’ she said with a quick grin that for some reason struck him square in the chest like a dart, ‘but don’t you have to work? What will happen to your billions under management if they’re not being managed?’
‘But they are.’
‘Who by?’
‘I hired someone.’
She sat up, to his immense disappointment clutching the sheet to her chest. ‘Wow,’ she said, staring at him, all tousled and rosy cheeked, which was a very good look on her, and, even better, a look put there by him.
‘It makes sense,’ he said, not quite sure why the news should provoke quite such surprise.
‘I know. But...well...wow. When?’
‘Yesterday morning.’
‘The phone call?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Who?’
‘My nearest competitor. He jumped at the chance to come and work for me and he’s extremely keen and exceptionally able. So I’m utterly at your disposal for as long as you want me.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said lightly. ‘I still only want you until Saturday.’
‘Of course,’ he said smoothly, ignoring the strangely bitter taste the thought of her departure left in his mouth.
She stared at him for a moment longer, the expression in her eyes unreadable, and then gave her beautiful shoulders a quick shrug. ‘Well, we can’t keep on doing nothing but having sex.’
‘Can’t we?’
‘I’ve never been to Venice before. I’d like to see some sights.’
‘Plenty to look at here,’ he drawled, pulling down the sheet that was draped across him.
‘Stop it,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m serious. I vaguely recall a plan to learn Italian. I have a hankering to try some proper tiramisu. And even though I haven’t had much use for them lately I’m also going to need to buy some new clothes.’
‘Va bene,’ he said, reflecting that, since he’d given his housekeeper the week off, they probably did need to pick up some supplies. ‘If I really can’t tempt you back into bed, we will visit the city. Give me an hour to make some arrangements.’
* * *
By the time they sat down to lunch in a divine cafe that appeared in no guidebook but apparently served the best tiramisu in the city, Rico had taken Carla on a private tour of the Doge’s Palace and had St Mark’s Basilica and the Bell Tower closed to the public so that they might explore them in peace and solitude. They’d had an argument about whether biscotti were better on their own or dipped in vin santo and a discussion about up to exactly what time it was acceptable to order a cappuccino. The entire morning had been an incredible experience and, for Carla at least, very much needed.
Not for a second had she regretted agreeing to stay with him for a few more days. She’d had no doubts about changing her flight to Saturday morning, which would give her the rest of the weekend back home to prepare for the week ahead and proved that she was still using her head, not her heart, to make decisions. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but instead of lessening in passion and heat, the sex had been only getting better.
But she’d woken up this morning needing a change of scenery. The hours since the moment he’d caved in to the desire he had for her had been incredibly intense, increasingly light on chat and heavy on action. And while she hadn’t exactly felt trapped, she’d definitely felt a need for space and a break.
‘So you’re an exceptionally good tour guide,’ she said, taking a sip of her chianti and thinking of the deluge of information he’d presented her with, dates and facts that indicated an encyclopaedic knowledge of the city.
‘I’ve had plenty of practice,’ he answered, his eyes shielded by his mirrored shades. ‘I know these streets and canals and everything within them like the back of my hand.’
Her head immediately swam with everything he’d told her about his youth, but she pushed it aside because it was far too beautiful a day for an analysis of his distressing past.
‘Well, if this person you’ve hired proves too good and you become surplus to requirements,’ she said, thinking instead about how taken aback she’d been by the news that he, who’d always operated totally alone, had taken on the responsibility of an employee, ‘at least you know you have an alternative employment option.’
‘I won’t. I’m excellent at what I do and I need to do it.’
‘You’re very driven.’
‘As are you.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘Probably because if you keep moving forwards at great pace, it’s harder for the past to catch up with you.’
‘This is true,’ she said, tilting her head while she gave it some consideration and came to the conclusion that he could be right. ‘Although I’m totally over mine, of course,’ she added, thinking of the return of her confidence and self-esteem and the way she’d eventually had sex again, even though it had taken another four years before she’d been brave enough to take the plunge.
‘Are you?’
She nodded. ‘Endless conversations with Georgie and the therapy my parents arranged worked wonders. You ought to try it.’
His dark eyebrows lifted. ‘You had therapy?’
‘A lot of it. And counselling. For at least a year. They felt terribly guilty. ‘
‘And so they should.’
‘Well, yes,’ she admitted, remembering being in plays at school that no one came to and coming top in tests that no one praised her for. ‘But they weren’t to blame any more than I was. Shortly after I was rescued, they started talking about moving off the commune and adopting a more conventional lifestyle, but I persuaded them out of it. They’d got a bit smothering by that point and I just wanted it behind me.’
‘Is that why you don’t see much of them?’
‘That and distance,’ she said with a nod. ‘They’re now halfway up a hill in Wales.’
‘I can see why Georgie means so much to you, even if I don’t get it.’
‘What don’t you get?’
‘The depth of your relationship.’ He took a sip of his beer and she really wished he’d take off his sunglasses.
‘How deep do your relationships go?’
‘I don’t have any.’
Just as she suspected, she thought, and her heart squeezed at the realisation of how lonely he must be. ‘That’s a shame.’
‘It’s never bothered me,’ he said with a casual shrug that made her suddenly wonder if she was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t lonely at all. Maybe he was perfectly content with his life the way it was. Maybe that was why he had no interest in meeting Finn.
‘Well, Georgie and I are closer than sisters,’ she said, not entirely sure what to make of that, ‘and I owe her a debt I’ll never be able to repay.’
‘Is that why you accepted my invitation to dinner?’
‘Partly,’ she said. ‘I also needed to assuage my guilt.’
‘Your guilt?’
‘I allowed you to leave that day. That shouldn’t have happened
. I should never have left you alone. I made a mistake I’d never normally have made.’
‘Then why did you?’
‘You threw me off balance.’
‘Did I?’
‘You must have known you did.’
‘You are a master of concealment.’
‘Takes one to know one. And, talking of relationships and that afternoon,’ she said with a deep breath, not willing to consider the idea that he might genuinely be fine on his own and that her mission might fail, ‘have you had any thoughts about meeting Finn?’
‘No.’
‘Because I really think you should, Rico, and not just because he wants it but because it would be so good for you too.’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘Are you trying to ruin the day?’
The smile he gave her was faint, but she could hear a chilly bite to his words. Her throat went dry and her stomach clenched. ‘Of course not,’ she said, the wine in her system turning to acid.
‘Then stop.’
* * *
Having got through the rest of lunch with mercifully little conversation, Rico left Carla in the hands of the top personal shopper at the top department store he’d rung earlier, and took himself off to the Capella di Santa Maria, not because he was remotely religious but because he’d always found comfort in the shady coolness of the small but perfectly formed building, and since it wasn’t on the tourist trail, which meant it had never been a location for any of his adolescent scams or thievery, it dredged up no memories.
Was there any hope of finding comfort now?
With everything crashing around inside him, it didn’t seem likely. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the support Carla had had in the aftermath of her experience. That kind of help hadn’t been made available to him at any point between his parents’ death and the moment he’d torn free from gang life. And when he’d been older and it could have become an option, he’d had that part of his life locked away so long he hadn’t known where the key even was.
