Giac knew that a full explanation was required, but he was only human. There were things he found almost impossible to discuss. His circumstances with Carrie fit squarely into that box. “Trust this.” He squeezed her tighter, holding her to him.
“What would you change? What do you want for us, now?”
He kissed the top of her head, and said the only thing he knew to be true, with any degree of certainty. “I want you.”
Annie wondered how long he’d feel that way, and how he saw it working when they lived in different countries, but she stayed quiet and still in his arms. It was the only place she wanted to be.
He kissed her on the lips, but it was inquisitive and gentle, so unlike his usual touch that Annie felt tears clog her throat. It felt like a parting. Like the beginning of the unraveling of what they had.
She broke the kiss, stifling a sob, and blinked back tears. “I can’t.” She shook her head and pushed past him, into her bathroom. She pressed her palms against the cold ceramic of her basin, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She saw the worry and sadness there. It was not the face of a woman in love. Not one free to be in love, in any case.
She ran the cold water and scooped her hands into it, flushing her face punishingly. The cold water was refreshing. She reached out, feeling for a towel.
“Here.” Giac stood, implacable and strong, holding one out for her.
“Thanks.” She padded her face then hooked it back on the wall.
“I am not a man who likes to discuss feelings, and I fear I do not do it well. What I should have said, what I need you to know, is that I am completely in love with you, Annie Carlton.” He lifted her chin, so that she could see the truthfulness in his face.
Her smile was touched with wistfulness. “But you loved me then, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Her unspoken question hung heavy between them.
“I was wrong to be with you then. I had no business falling in love with you when I was committed to someone else.”
“And now?” She demanded.
“It is over between me and Carrie.”
She nodded jerkily. It had been the most amazing time of her life, and he regretted it? She blinked furiously to hold the tears at bay.
Giac exhaled heavily. “Carrie loved me before I had a penny to my name. When I was eighteen, her father told her to leave me, or she’d be disinherited. She stayed. She loved me when I was worth nothing. She has always been loyal to me. I owed her the same.”
Annie liked the other woman for her loyalty, but at the same time… “I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t threatened by what you’ve shared with her.”
His smile was grim. “I love Carrie. Almost like a sister. We grew up together. It is nothing compared to this.”
The lawyer in her wanted more proof; concrete facts. But love was about taking a leap of faith, screwing one’s eyes together and wishing for the best. Hoping it would all work out, even when there could be no guarantee.
Her small nod was invested with all the hopes of her heart. Because she loved him in a way that was impossible to resist.
CHAPTER NINE
Annie stretched languidly against the pale sheets of her bed. They still smelled of Giac. She breathed in his husky scent, the smile on her lips impossible to control. She listened to the shower, raining down water, imaging him naked and wet, and sighed. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she pushed the sheet off and climbed out of bed.
He was singing in his native Italian when she opened the door to the shower. Instead of pausing, he grabbed a bottle of her shampoo and held it like a microphone. She giggled, as his serenading became more dramatic and louder by the moment.
Finally, he pulled her into his arms, and lowered his voice, but continued to sing, staring directly into her eyes. Annie’s bliss was approaching a state of euphoria.
“You could just about quit your day job,” she remarked with a cheeky smile.
“Mmm. I think I have more success at my day job.”
With his forefinger, he traced a circle around one of her pert nipples, watching his fingertip’s progress with fascination. Annie gasped, as little arrows of pleasure danced through her body. “People would be crazy not to come here you sing,” she moaned, as he leaned forward and took her nipple in his mouth. Her body was wet, and she was even more so.
“Bellisima,” he whispered, crouching to his knees. Water ran over them like a fountain. Annie closed her eyes as the warmth pummeled her shoulders.
He teased her with his tongue, dragging it around her belly button, and then lower, until he was tantalizingly close to her most sacred heart. She gripped his shoulders, as he kissed her entrance, making her weak and shaky at the same time. She leaned against the cool tiles for strength as he moved his mouth against her.
“You know this makes me crazy,” she expelled in between roughly drawn breaths.
He stood, his eyes clashing with hers. “And you make me crazy,” he promised, kissing her neck, while his hands moved down the length of her body.
“You know,” she said, staring at the ceiling while her body reverberated at an intense frequency of passion and desire. “I came in to see if I could help you get cleaned up.”
“Help away,” he agreed, without moving from her.
A glint in her eye, she ducked down and out of his imprisoning arms. She reached for a bar of soap and rubbed it between her hands until a lather formed. Conscious of him watching her, she moved slowly.
“Impossibly sexy,” he complained, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Though shower gel might be quicker.”
She arched a brow as she replaced the soap on the tile block and turned to the man she loved with all her heart. “Now,” she pretended to ponder the question. “Where should I start?”
His smile was lazy, loaded with speculation, as she slowly raked her eyes the length of his body. His broad, strong shoulders, his powerful chest, his stunning erection. Lower still, over his darkly tanned legs, to his shapely calf muscles. She crouched down, pretending fascination with his ankles.
She started with one, and then the other, lathering soap, massaging, touching, feeling. Giac watched, a strange sensation low in his gut.
Annie looked up at him, her dark hair plastered against her head, and she smiled. Inside, she was a bundle of nerves. She’d never done what she was about to do, but all of a sudden, it was the most important thing to her. She kept her eyes locked to his as she opened her mouth, and took his length inside.
His grunt of surprise was all the encouragement she needed. She looped her fingers around his firm base, circling him completely, and used her mouth and tongue to please him, as he had done to her, on so many occasions.
“Bella,” he muttered, his breathing strained as he threw his head back. “You must stop.”
“Why must I?”
He shook his head. “I’m about to lose control of myself.”
“So?” She grinned up at him. “Is that a bad thing?”
He could already feel himself beginning to erupt. The water was warm on his body, and her mouth, so warm about his length, her hands squeezing and massaging his shaft. He shook his head. “No, bella.”
The look on her face was one of disappointment. “Am I doing something wrong?”
His laugh was strained, without humor. “Certamente, No. Absolutely not. It’s … very good.”
Her eyes held a wicked glint. “I’m all grown up now, you know,” she murmured, ignoring his objections and taking him back into her mouth. He was long, and smooth, and hard, and he was driven completely crazy by anything she did to him. She liked to lick him, chasing a single vein from the base of his length to its head, with her eyes watching his; but taking him in her mouth and feeling his body jerk in response was so arousing she almost felt her own body orgasm.
It was an entirely foreign experience to her, the way he convulsed, and spasmed, when finally he released himself; the sense of sheer power and co
ntrol was intoxicating. Spent, he collapsed against the tiles, his face flushed, his eyes glowing.
She stood, out of breath and warm with pleasure, watching him thoughtfully.
“Annie,” he exhaled quietly. “I have no will-power where you’re concerned.”
“Good.” She grinned. “It’s entirely mutual.”
She brushed her body close to him, more turned on than she’d ever been in her life. “Did you enjoy that, Mr. Medici?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling you’re asking to be taught a lesson?”
She fluttered her long eyelashes. “I like to be taught lessons.”
His laugh was throaty. He surprised her by smacking one of her rounded buttocks with the palm of his hand. “I have many things to teach you, Annie. Many things which will, I think, blow your mind.”
The double entendre made her pulse go skittering wildly.
“In fact,” he murmured, running his fingers over the red mark he’d left on her rear, “I think we should start lesson number one now. Would you like that, bella?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.
He scooped her up against his chest, and walked back to her bedroom. Neither cared that he was leaving wet footprints in the carpet; neither noticed. He dropped her soaking wet body down on the bed, studying her from the hair on her head to her brightly painted toes.
“Roll over,” he commanded, his voice thick.
She did as he said, her heart racing so hard she thought it might explode.
“Up.” He put a hand under her flat stomach and lifted it, positioning her so that she was on all fours, her toes dangling over the edge of the bed. He stood, as he had that first night, right behind her. Without any preamble, he entered her swiftly from behind, running his hands down her back as he took possession of her body.
She bucked back against him; he was so long, so large, and in this position, he reached so far inside of her. She moaned, dropping her head down as his body moved inside her. He brought a hand around her front, and stimulated the entrance to her core, while he moved within her. It was too much pleasure to bear. She almost screamed. He moved harder and faster, pounding into her so hard, and still, she wanted more. The waiting and, the building pressure, were agony. She squeezed the duvet between her fingertips, her body shaking as she felt her orgasm building and building.
Then, he moved his hand, and brought it around to her rear. He grabbed both of her cheeks, massaging her with his strong fingers, touching her in a way that would have been painful if it weren’t so erotically pleasurable.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “Where I was.”
She didn’t argue. She moved her fingers to her entrance and tentatively ran them over her core.
“I want to tie you up and keep you as my prisoner.” He was only half joking. He wanted to do this forever. To feel this forever.
“I would do anything with you,” she said, seriously. She would do anything to feel like this again.
He groaned, and reached forward, using his hands to cup both of her breasts. He pulled her backwards, none too gently, so that she slapped against his upright chest. And while he moved inside of her from behind, he pulled at her nipples and kissed her neck hungrily.
“Oh, God,” she cried out, as she felt her orgasm building to fever pitch. He dropped a hand back to the apex of her thighs, and ran his palm against her as he moved within her. His other hand he left, firmly fondling her breasts, making every bone in her body splinter in pieces from the strength of her sensations.
She screamed into the room as her body seemed to fall apart in its very essence. She had the truest sense that she could do anything she wanted in this world. She felt all powerful.
Giac shook as he spilled into her.
He had never known anything like it.
“Annie,” he whispered, when his breathing had returned to normal, kissing her shoulder tenderly. “Did I hurt you?”
He had been so demanding; so rough. It was as though need alone had driven him, and it had almost driven him crazy. He couldn’t see her smile, because her back was still to him. “You made me feel complete.”
“You are more exquisite than I have words to describe.” He kissed her again, and when his hands ran over her, they were gentle; worshipping her.
“Let’s never leave here.” She whispered, her eyes closed as she leaned back against him.
“Suits me just fine.” And it did. Here, in her apartment, where they had their own little world, everything was perfect.
Later, much later, Annie pushed out of bed with a small squeal.
“What is it?” He asked, groggily.
“The shower’s still running!” As she ran to the bathroom, he smiled. That was just how much they needed one another. All thought, all responsibility – everything – evaporated from their minds. He hoped it would always be thus.
* * *
Annie was so nervous she could hardly concentrate on her work. She forced herself to focus on tying loose ends up from the Paris trip. Just the knowledge that Giac was on his way to Windsor to receive a CBE was too much. She was so impossibly proud. Around lunch time, it became impossible to ignore. The butterflies in her stomach simply wouldn’t settle. Finally, she gave into temptation and loaded a browser up on her computer. With a guilty flush in her cheeks, she typed in the web address for one of the trashy tabloid papers.
Somewhere near the bottom, beneath articles on cheating politicians, and speculation about pregnant starlets, was a link to a ‘live coverage’ of the investiture ceremony.
She pressed on the button, glad her office was so private, and waited impatiently for the page to load.
She skimmed the first paragraph – notables of the country, or people who have contributed to the country, yada yada. The photograph they’d chosen to place at the top of the article showed a general assembly of people arriving. It was a beautiful summery British day. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and the very air seemed to sparkle.
She kept scrolling down, through the photos, and then stopped. Frantically, she scrolled back up.
There he was.
So, so, so handsome.
She stared at the screen. He was wearing a custom Saville row suit. The dark navy was elegant and serious; the crisp white shirt perfectly contrasted with his naturally caramel skin. His dark hair was styled back from his face. She leaned forward, and touched the screen with her fingertips. His large, dark rimmed eyes, autocratic nose, chiseled lips. He was just gorgeous.
She scrolled lower, in the hope of seeing another picture. There was one, a few graphics lower, of his back. He was speaking to someone else, another recipient, she presumed. She didn’t have too much interest in whoever it was, though. Her eyes were drawn to the woman beside Giac.
She’d only met Carrie Medici once.
Once had been enough. The woman was etched into her mind’s eye almost as clearly as her own reflection. Unmistakably, it was Giac’s wife. Her hand possessively on his shoulder, her smile broad and proud. Yes, proud. Annie recognized it, for it was exactly as her own smile had been, before seeing this picture.
She scrolled lower still. Another paparazzi snap. This time, they were in the background of a photo of a pop star, but they were having a serious conversation. He looked so comfortable. There was no mistaking the intimacy between them.
Sickness rose inside of her.
Surely, there was an explanation for this.
She scrolled back up and stared at the first image. There had to be a reason. There had to be some sensible, understandable reason that Carrie was there with Giac, her arm around him, her face beaming.
But Annie couldn’t, for the life of her, imagine what.
There was one thing she knew with certainty. She needed to speak to him.
She tapped out a quick email to Patrice, asking her to cover anything urgent that might arise, and then fled the offices of Amicus Incorporated.
They had arranged to me
et for dinner that night, but Annie couldn’t wait. She didn’t want to wait. If something was going on, if Giac had been lying to her, she needed to know immediately. She caught a taxi straight to his penthouse in the West End. The doorman recognized her and let her up to his floor, though she was unable to gain access without a key. So she slid to the ground and sat, cross legged, waiting outside his front door.
Annie couldn’t have said how long she waited. Certainly a long time. An hour, perhaps more.
Finally, the lifts pinged open with the sound of a bell.
She raised her head and looked forward.
Giac emerged first, laughing about something. Carrie followed, her beautiful face crinkled into amusement, her hair –short and fair – flying about her face as she continued to speak animatedly.
Annie rose, but neither of them saw her. Giac only had eyes for his wife. Annie watched as they approached her, no idea how ashen her face was. Giac pulled his key out of his pocket and finally turned to the door. His eyes landed on Annie immediately. His expression sobered.
“Annie.” He threw Carrie a look of consternation.
Carrie had been raised by parents who had ingrained good manners and classiness. She flashed a warm smile at the younger woman and then touched Giac’s forearm. “I’ll wait inside.” She took the keys and inserted them in the door with a sense of propriety that both outraged and comforted Annie. She wasn’t going crazy.
His wife was still in the picture.
She was furious as hell, and she hung onto the emotion. The alternative was misery, and she far preferred anger.
“I just had to see for myself,” she said finally, proud that her voice only wobbled a little.
“Annie,” he groaned. “This is absolutely not what you think.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t.” She shook her head fiercely. “You might have been able to lie to me once. Not again. Never again.” She yanked at her handbag. “I can’t believe I fell for it again.”
Giac pulled her into his arms. “Listen, you didn’t fall for anything. Please, let me talk to you.”
“No.” She pushed at his chest, hard, and ran. She pressed the button on the lift but, for the first time since she’d been at Giac’s apartment, the doors didn’t open instantly. She cursed inwardly and jogged further away, to the fire escape at the end of the corridor. She pushed the door inward and started to run down the stairs, her heart racing, her mind swimming.
The Medici Mistress: Nothing and no one would stop him from having her. Page 9
