Rome's Revenge

by Sara Craven

  He put his arm round her, pulling her back against him, and she realised he was naked. And not merely naked, but deeply and powerfully aroused.

  Rome put his lips against her throat, just below her ear, making the tell-tale pulse leap to the brush of his mouth. His fingers shaped the curve of her shoulder, and she trembled like a frightened bird under his hand.

  He kissed her throat again, and the sensitive nape of her neck, moving the silky tendrils of hair aside with his lips.

  He whispered coaxingly, ‘Take your hands away, mia cara. Don’t hide from me. I want to know everything about you.’

  ‘There isn’t a great deal to learn.’ She tried to make a joke of it, but her voice was too small and too breathless.

  ‘Oh, you’re so wrong,’ he told her softly. ‘I have to find out what you like.’ He let his lips travel down her throat to the delicate hollow at its base. ‘And what you may not like.’ He ran a tantalising finger down the centre of the back she kept turned to him, making her flinch and gasp. His hand moved round, closing on her hip for a moment, then drifting down to her slender thigh, where it lingered, warm, sensuous and quite deliberate.

  ‘And what you might enjoy if you tried,’ he whispered.

  Her whole body seemed to shudder. Then she twisted away from him, swiftly, almost violently.

  She said in a suffocated voice. ‘I—I can’t do this. I thought—but I can’t.’

  Rome stayed still for a long moment, his eyes fixed thoughtfully on the long, vulnerable line of her back. Then he moved, too, taking the pillows and piling them up behind him. He reached for her, ignoring the small stifled sound she made, and drew her back beside him, holding her in the crook of his arm with her face against his shoulder.

  He pulled the sheet over them, covering himself to the waist and tucking the embroidered hem across her breasts.

  He said, ‘Is that less threatening?’

  She said on a sigh, ‘I suppose.’ She hesitated. ‘You must think I’m a terrible fool.’

  He dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘Don’t try to read my thoughts,’ he told her gently. ‘Because you’re way off target.’

  ‘Don’t you—mind?’

  ‘I’m disappointed, of course,’ he said. ‘But, ultimately, the decision was always yours to make.’ He paused, allowing her to digest that. ‘However, I’d be interested to know why you changed your mind. If you can tell me.’

  There was a charged silence, then she sighed again, a small desolate sound.

  She said, ‘You’ve seen how clumsy I am. I can hardly walk across a room without falling over my feet, or someone else’s.’

  ‘I saw you fall once because you were startled,’ he said. ‘That’s all, and scarcely a federal case.’

  ‘It’s not all,’ she threw at him. ‘I’m also too tall, too skinny, and my feet are too big.’

  He said, ‘If we’re listing faults, my nose is too large, I’m seriously bad-tempered until I get my coffee in the mornings, and I sing in the shower even though I can’t.’

  She said passionately, ‘Don’t laugh at me. This isn’t a joke.’

  He said slowly, ‘No, I see that. But even if all those claims you make are true, why should that stop you making love with me?’

  She buried her face in his shoulder. Her voice came to him muffled. ‘Because I—honestly can’t do it. I’m—useless in bed. A—a freak. I can’t bear you to know it, too.’

  His breath caught in sheer astonishment. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  He said roughly, ‘What is this nonsense? Never let me hear you say such things again.’

  ‘Even when it’s the truth?’

  ‘And everything else is an act?’ Rome shook his head. ‘I don’t believe that, Cory. Not when I’ve kissed you—felt your body come alive in my arms.’

  She said with difficulty, ‘It isn’t the—wanting. It’s what comes afterwards.’

  He said quietly, ‘Didn’t you hear what I said just now—that I want to find what makes you happy?’

  ‘But I need to make you happy, too,’ she said. ‘And I can’t.’

  Rome stroked the curve of her white, unhappy face with a gentle finger.

  He said, ‘I’m really not that hard to please, mia cara.’

  She said on a whisper, ‘But I wouldn’t want you to be kind either—or to make allowances.’ She thought with a pang of anguish, or laugh about me afterwards…

  There was a silence, then he said, ‘Who was he, Cory? The man who made you like this? Because there must have been someone, and I need to know all of it.’

  He felt her shudder again. She said, ‘Please, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  His hand gentled the line of her jaw, traced her throat and shoulder.

  He said, ‘But you need to be rid of it, mia, before it poisons your whole life. So, you must tell me…’

  She was quiet for a while, then she said, ‘We were going to be married. His name was Rob, and he worked for a merchant bank in the City. I—I’d been at school with his sister. I hadn’t liked her much then, but I’d run into her a couple of times in London afterwards, and she was much friendlier. She even invited me to her birthday party.’

  ‘And you met him there?’

  ‘Yes. He spent a lot of time with me. I’m not much of a dancer, so we sat out on the terrace and talked. He—seemed to like all the things I did, but I realised later that Stephanie must have primed him. He phoned the next day, invited me to dinner. It was a wonderful two months,’ she added stiltedly. ‘We went everywhere together, and then he asked me to marry him. I suppose he—swept me off my feet.’

  The arm that held her was like a band of iron.

  ‘Go on,’ Rome said tersely.

  ‘But although we spent all that time together, we weren’t lovers. Oh, he’d tried, but I—I suppose I wanted to wait until we were married. Then one evening, a few weeks before the wedding, we were having dinner at his flat, and it seemed silly to go on saying no.’

  ‘So, you went to bed with him?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her throat tightened uncontrollably. ‘I was incredibly naïve, but I just didn’t expect it to be like that—so painful and so—quick. I was in love with him, for God’s sake, and I didn’t feel a thing. I just wanted it to be over.

  ‘When we did it again, I tried to respond—to do what he wanted. I could sense he was disappointed, getting impatient, and that hurt in a different way.’ She paused. ‘After that I—pretended to be asleep.

  ‘When I woke up in the morning, he wasn’t there, and I supposed he’d gone off to make some coffee. I just wanted to leave—get back to my own place and have a shower. I—I felt dirty somehow—and confused. It was as if Rob had suddenly become a different person—and one I wasn’t sure I liked.

  ‘He had a phone extension beside his bed. I picked it up to phone for a cab and realised he was on the line in the living room—talking—laughing to some friend.

  ‘He said, “I tell you, man, bed’s going to be a nightmare. She hasn’t a bloody clue, and it’s like making love to a coathanger anyway. I’ll just have to keep my eyes shut and think of all that lovely money.”’

  She felt Rome move swiftly and restively beside her. She risked a swift glance upwards and saw his face, bleak and set, his eyes staring in front of him as if fixed by some troubled inner vision.

  She said, ‘For a moment I tried to pretend it wasn’t me he was talking about. I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel. I knew I hadn’t been—any good that night, but he’d told me that I’d learn—and it would get better.’

  ‘Then he lied.’ Rome’s voice was harsh. ‘It would never have been any better for you, Cory. Not with him.’

  She said, ‘I realised for the first time that he’d never actually cared about me at all. That it had just been an act. I got dressed, and left. I could hardly bear to look at him, but I told him that it was all off. That there would be no wedding and I never wanted to see him or hear from him again.’
/>
  She shuddered. ‘He got so angry then, and started shouting at me. Telling me I was making a fool of him—of myself, and what made me think anyone else would ever want me, no matter how much money I had. I could hear him all the way down the corridor to the lift. People were opening their doors—staring at me. I—I wanted to die.

  ‘The wedding was cancelled. I told Gramps that I’d changed my mind, but I never told him why. I—I couldn’t. I’ve never told anyone—until now. Everyone—even my best friend—assumed he’d been unfaithful, and I let them think so. It was—less painful, somehow.’

  There was silence, then Rome moved abruptly. Reaching for his robe, he said, ‘I need a drink. Can I get you one?’

  She shook her head. ‘No—thanks.’ But her heart cried out, Don’t leave me—stay with me.

  Even though she knew it was impossible, and that one day soon Rome would go from her life for ever.

  Leaving her, she realised, a stifled sob rising in her throat, more bereft that Rob ever had, or could have.

  Condemning her to spending the rest of her life alone—and lonely.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ROME closed the bedroom door carefully behind him and leaned against it, his breathing as hard and strained as if he’d taken part in some marathon.

  Saying he wanted a drink had just been an excuse. Suddenly he’d needed to be on his own—to think. To come to terms with what he’d just heard. If he could…

  He walked over to the French windows, opened them and gulped the chill rain-washed air into his lungs.

  He felt nauseous—sick to his stomach. And dizzy with the kind of shame that no amount of alcohol could cure.

  The decent thing, he knew, would be to get dressed and take Cory home before he did more harm.

  She might be hurt, but that was inevitable. And it was nothing compared with the wound he would almost certainly inflict if they stayed together.

  As he’d listened to her struggling with the quiet, halting story, he’d been possessed with a savage longing to seek out this unknown Rob and give him the beating of his life.

  Except, as he’d suddenly realised, he was no better. For wasn’t he deceiving Cory just as viciously—and for money?

  Cursing under his breath, he leaned against the doorframe, staring up at the scudding clouds.

  He was caught in this trap, and there was no escape. Whatever he did, the end result would be the same.

  He would lose her.

  He wasn’t sure of the precise moment when she’d become essential to him, or how it had happened—or why.

  He only knew that when he’d gone to her in the Gallery that morning it had been because he couldn’t keep away any longer. He’d been drawn to her, instinctively, involuntarily, knowing that he had to be with her, whatever the eventual cost.

  He hadn’t, he thought wryly, even had a chance to fight it. In too deep before he knew it, and lost for ever.

  Yet there was no way they could ever be together. This was the brutal reality he had to face. The anguish that twisted in his gut.

  If he told her the truth she would turn from him in hurt and disgust. And even if he could prevail upon her by some miracle to trust him again he would have nothing to offer her. Because Montedoro—his home, his livelihood—would have gone. He would be starting again with bare hands, and he couldn’t ask any woman to share that kind of hardship, even if she were willing.

  While if he simply continued with his grandfather’s plan, let the whole thing run its treacherous course, she would end up betrayed and—hating him.

  But no more, he thought wearily, than he hated himself.

  He stepped back into the room and closed the windows. He collected a bottle of mineral water from the bar, and two glasses, and took them back into the bedroom.

  Cory had not moved. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep.

  And she’d been crying. He could see the marks on her face, and felt the hard knot of reason inside him dissolve into an aching tenderness and, a heartbeat later, into a need that could not be denied any longer.

  To hell with the right thing, he thought, shrugging off his robe, letting it drop to the carpet. They would have this one night together. A chance, perhaps, for him to undo the harm that Rob had done and prove to her that she was a woman both desirable and capable of desire.

  Maybe his last chance.

  While, for a few hours, he in his turn could forget shoddy bargains, threatened ruin, and the inevitability of heartbreak, and think instead of nothing but her. Lose himself completely in the slender paradise of her body.

  He slid into bed beside her, and drew her gently back into his arms. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked at him, her eyes wide and bewildered.

  She said, ‘Rome…’ and he laid a quieting finger on her lips.

  ‘Hush, mia cara,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t speak. Just—feel.’

  And he began to kiss her.

  Even as her lips parted beneath his, Cory knew she should resist. But the urge to yield was too strong, too beguiling, she realised dazedly.

  His skin smelt cold and fresh, as if he’d been in the open air, and she wanted to ask him about it, only other ideas, other sensations were beginning to press on her, driving coherent thought away.

  His hands seemed to drift on her, and everywhere they touched her skin sang. She felt her body lift, arching towards him in a silent demand which was almost pleading.

  He pushed away the concealing sheet and caressed her breasts slowly and very gently, making the rosy nipples soar in proud response. He bent his head, worshipping each small, delicate mound in turn with his lips, letting his tongue flicker over the aroused peaks, forcing a small, frantic sound from her throat.

  His mouth returned to hers, soothing her. Whispering softly in Italian against her lips, coaxing her to relax—to trust…

  The fingers that stroked her skin were warm and leisurely, exploring every curve, every plane and angle as they moved downwards, and she felt his touch in her veins, quickening her bloodstream.

  When his hand reached the silken barrier of her briefs she tensed again, and Rome paused, running a questing finger along the band of lace that circled her hips.

  He kissed her more deeply, the play of his tongue against hers a heated, wicked incitement.

  His lips moved to the whorls of her ear, and down to the haywire pulse in her throat.

  The hot dart of his tongue penetrated the valley between her breasts, licking the salty excited moisture from her skin.

  His cheek rested against her ribcage, assimilating the flurried thud of her heartbeat, and his hand moved downwards with exquisite deliberation, his fingertips burning through that final fragile barrier, but so slowly that she thought she might not be able to bear it.

  Because she knew where she needed him—where she craved him—and he was making her wait—dear God—so long. So terribly—agonisingly long.

  Her thighs were slackening and parting, offering him access in a molten, scalding rush.

  He touched her through the silk, grazing softly, intimately against her tiny, excited bud. Then delicately increasing the pressure, using that last covering against her to deepen the delicious friction. Creating a rhythm that she could recognise—that she could respond to.

  The breath caught in her throat as she lifted her hips to thrust herself against his hand in open need. To tell him that she wanted that ultimate obstacle gone—to be as naked as he was himself.

  Suddenly Cory could feel the velvet hardness of him against her thigh. Her hand cupped him shyly, marking him, measuring him. She heard him groan softly in answer.

  He moved swiftly then, stripping away her final defence, his fingers reclaiming her with total mastery. Stroking her, circling on her, drawing her into a sudden breathless spiral of sensation. Bringing her with throbbing intensity closer and closer to some undreamed-of edge where all control would be gone.

  This was uncharted territory, and for a moment she was scared, afraid
of ceding him too much. Of losing her identity and becoming some mindless creature of his instead.

  And, as if he sensed her sudden tension, she heard him whisper against her skin, ‘Don’t fight me, cara. Come with me.’

  His hand moved again, and almost at once she was lost, crying out soundlessly, wordlessly, as her body was caught—tossed to heaven and back—in the rippling convulsions of her first orgasm.

  And Rome held her close and kissed her, and felt her shocked, delighted tears on his lips.

  When she spoke, her voice was husky, dreaming. She said, ‘I never knew—I never guessed…’

  She felt his smile against her hair as she lay, her head pillowed on his chest.

  He said, ‘And that’s only the first lesson.’

  ‘What’s the second?’

  ‘This.’ He took her hand and brought it gently to his body again.

  ‘Ah.’ Her fingers encircled him, softly, teasingly. Caressed him with new knowledge—new wonder. And, she realised, new confidence, as she felt him stir beneath her touch. ‘And only this?’

  Rome said thickly, ‘No.’

  He turned, tangling a hand in her dishevelled hair, bringing her mouth to his powerfully and urgently while his other hand began a long journey down the length of her spine, tracing the curve of her hip and the taut roundness of her buttocks with sensuous greed.

  Cory found herself shivering with pleasure under the passage of the long, clever fingers, her body arching—straining towards him—so that the sensitive points of her breasts grazed the hard wall of his chest.

  She said breathlessly, ‘I want you. All of you.’

  ‘Show me.’ The invitation was almost a challenge, delivered huskily.

  She felt the heat, the potency of him at the apex of her thighs, and, gasping, driven by pure instinct as her body melted—opened, she brought him into her.

  He entered her slowly, his control absolute, the blue eyes scanning hers for any sign of pain or fear. But her gaze was clouded, sultry with pleasure, her breathing quickening with excitement as his strength filled her.