by Annie O'Neil
Fran felt Luca’s breath glide along her neck as he whispered into her ear. His little sparrow. If anyone in the world could make her feel like a delicate bird in flight...
Don’t think. Just be.
Abruptly she tugged her fingers down the back of his neck, the pressure of her nails eliciting a groan of pleasure as once again he tipped her head back and dropped kisses along the length of her neck, his fingers tracing the delicate dips and swells of her décolletage.
Fran inhaled deeply—everything about this moment would form the scent palate she would return to when the day came she had to leave. Late-night jasmine. Pepper. Wood shavings. The sun-warmed heat of early summer and tanned skin.
She tipped her head forward as Luca’s hands slid along her sides and pulled her close to his chest. Another scent she’d remember forever. One very particular chest, attached to the most intriguing man she had ever laid eyes on.
A particle of insecurity lodged itself in her heart as she became aware of his hands sweeping along the curve of her shoulders to her arms. It took a second to connect mind and body. He was holding her out—away from him—so that he could tip her chin up and their eyes would meet.
And when they did it was like a lightning strike.
One so powerful she knew what she was feeling was more than chemical.
“You must want something. Everyone does.”
Respect. Love. Of course she wanted love. Marriage. Family. The whole nine yards one day. But Luca was the worst person in the world to start that sort of craziness with. And the last.
“We couldn’t have met at a worse time,” he continued.
“Or in a less promising way,” she reminded him, unable to keep that moment at the basilica from popping into her mind. “You and I will never be friends.”
Oh, the irony! And look at them now, woven into one another’s arms as if their being together had been predestined.
And that was when it hit her. What it was she wanted from a relationship.
To be lit up from within as she had been these last few precious moments. To feel elemental. Woven into the very fabric of someone else’s being.
She lowered her eyelids to half-mast. Luca didn’t need access to the tempest flaring between her heart and mind.
Her heart was near enough thumping out of her chest. She’d never done anything this...intentional before. Offering herself to him only to zip up what was left of her heart and take it away at the end of the summer.
She looked at Luca, all super masculine and reserved. Every bit the courtly gent by day, but by night a wild boy up for a bit of rough and tumble, if his kisses were anything to go by. His five-o’clock shadow was thick with the late hour, cheekbones taut, lips bloodred from their kisses. The scar she was longing not only to trace with her finger but her tongue...
“Let’s do it.” She moved her hand into the thin wedge of space between them. “Frenemies. Boundary hunters. Whatever you like. Shake on it?”
* * *
Luca didn’t want to shake hands. He wanted to take possession of her. Become intimately acquainted with every particle of Francesca he could get his hands on. He wanted to touch and caress all that he could see and all that he couldn’t beneath the tiny bits of fabric that made up her excuse for a nightgown. To disappear in her beauty and reemerge fortified and vital. Ready to take on anyone and anything.
Fran’s hand pressed against his chest as he pulled her tight to him so she could feel the effect she had on him. Her eyes widened and a distinctly saucy laugh burbled up from her throat. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the tipped points of her nipples as they abraded his chest when she wriggled in his arms.
“I’ve got something better than a handshake in mind for you,” he murmured.
“Oh, do you now?”
Fran’s feline eyes were sultry. She tipped her chin toward him with a smile edging onto the corners of her lips. A naughty smile.
Dio! She was beautiful.
In one swift move he kicked the door shut with his booted foot, swept her up into his arms and carried her without further ceremony straight to her bedroom.
She whooped when he all but tossed her onto the mattress, showing scant restraint as he stretched out alongside her. He was clearly enjoying the soft groan of pleasure he elicited when he ran a hand over the tips of her breasts before brusquely pushing aside the tiny triangles of lace and lowering his lips onto first one, then the other taut nipple, his tongue circling the deep pink of her areolae as he leisurely slid his hand across her belly and down to rest between her legs.
Luca’s breath caught, his lips just barely touching her nipple, as Fran pressed against his fingers. She grabbed for his free hand, drawing each of his fingers, one at a time, into her mouth, giving each one a wicked swirl of the tongue, a teasing lick and a suck.
Forcing himself to ignore the growing intensity building below his waistline, Luca slid his fingers beneath the thin strip at the base of Fran’s panties, delighting in the heated dew of her response to his touch. He had become utterly consumed with bringing her pleasure.
So responsive to his touch was she, he had to check himself again and again not to move too rapidly. To draw out her pleasure for as long as he could. When at last her body grew taut with expectation and desire, he unleashed his hands from their earlier restraint, let his mouth explore the most tender nooks of her belly, licking and teasing at the very tip of her most sensitive area until she cried out with pleasure and release.
Fran grabbed the sides of his face and roughly pulled his mouth toward hers. “Naked. Now!” were the only two words he could make out between her cries of pleasure as he dipped his fingers in farther, teasing and tempting her to reach another climax.
“Protection?”
An impressive stream of Italian gutter talk flowed as Fran lurched out of the bed, ran to the bathroom, clattered through who knew what at a high rate of knots and reappeared in the doorway, framed by the soft light of the bathroom, with a triumphant smile on her face and a small packet held between two fingers.
“Bridesmaid favors! Now, take off your clothes,” Fran commanded, already taking deliberate steps toward the bed. “Now.”
A broad smile peeled his lips apart. This made a nice change from the needy women he tended to attract. The ones who wanted the title, the property, but not the work that came along with the mantle he’d been forced to wear.
“Is this how it’s going to work?” Luca asked, propping himself up on an elbow as he watched her approach like a lioness about to pounce for the kill. “You giving me orders?”
“Tonight it is.” Fran straddled him in one fluid move, the bold glint in her eyes hinting at pleasures yet to unfold.
He needed this. He needed her.
“Well, then...” Luca arched an eyebrow at her and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I suppose it would be foolish not to oblige.”
Fran batted his hands away and ripped off the rest of the buttons of his shirt, her hands swirling possessively across the expanse of his chest.
“Yes,” she murmured as she pushed him back on the bed and began lowering herself along the full length of his body, exploring with her lips as much as with her hands. “It would.”
* * *
Two, maybe three hours later—Luca didn’t know; he’d entirely lost track of time—he slipped out from beneath the covers, trying his best not to disturb Francesca.
All the tiptoeing came to nothing when he picked up his trousers and his belt buckle clattered against the tile flooring. A quick glance toward the bed and he could see one bright blue eye peeking out at him amidst a tangle of blond hair.
“Pia?” she asked.
Luca nodded.
The single word had contained no animosity. Only understanding. His main
priority was his niece. Luxurious mornings in bed would never be on his menu, and Fran would have to understand that was his reality.
He swept his fingers through her hair, dropped a kiss on her forehead and left without saying a word.
Outside, he sucked in the night air as if he’d been suffocating.
A night like that...
He wanted more.
Much more.
He tried as best he could to push the thoughts—the desire—away. There was no chance he could make peace with giving in to these precious green shoots, the chance at something new blossoming in a place where he’d thought love would only wither and die.
With his niece to provide for, wanting and having had become two very different things. He could want, but he definitely couldn’t have. Fran would just have to understand that.
CHAPTER TEN
A SHOT OF irritation lanced through Luca’s already frazzled nerves. Spreadsheets taunted him from his computer screen. Stacks of bills sat alongside ledgers he knew he couldn’t reconcile. He barked a hollow laugh into the room.
This must be how his father had felt when his business was failing. Alone. Horrified by the ramifications of what would happen if he admitted his failure to his family. To those he loved the most in the world.
Another peal of hysterics echoed down the corner.
Since when did hydrotherapy sessions contain so much laughter?
He pushed back from his desk in frustration. He knew the exact moment. Ever since he’d gone to Francesca. Vulnerable. Heart in hand. Needing help. Needing her.
A shot of desire coursed through him and just as quickly he iced it.
Their nights together were...otherworldly. Never before had he met his match as he had with Francesca. The pure alpha male in him loved hearing her call his name as he pleasured her. Loved teasing and taunting just a little longer as she begged him to enter her. Even now, fully clothed, he could conjure up the sensation of Fran’s nails scratching along the length of his back as he thrust deeply into her until the pair of them both cried out in a shared ecstasy.
If only he hadn’t gone to her to ask for help. Help she’d given willingly. Gladly, even. But it made him feel weak. It ate at his pride and filled him with yet another measure of self-loathing he’d yet to conquer.
He was meant to be shouldering the load. Righting wrongs he had set in motion.
Paolo’s triumphant cry of “I did it!” pierced through to his consciousness.
Pride was his enemy. The devil on his shoulder drowning out the man he’d buried somewhere deep inside him, who knew having Fran here was exactly what the patients needed. What he needed.
The Francesca Effect, the staff were calling it.
Yes, the patients worked hard, but they also laughed and cheered, and a few had even cried in moments of triumph they had never thought they’d achieve.
Like a moth to a flame he found himself drawn to the hydrotherapy room.
He looked through the glass window running the length of the indoor pool and ground his teeth together.
Even in a functional one-piece swimsuit she was beautiful. Her hair was in Heidi plaits, trailing behind her in the water as she faced Paolo in his chair, stretching from side to side of the pool along with him, keeping up a steady flow of encouragement. Silly jokes. Pointing out every time he’d done well. Reached further. Done more. Aimed higher.
Luca pressed his head to the glass and as he did so, Fran turned to him, her blue eyes lighting up and her smile growing even broader.
He wanted to smile, too. His heart pounded in his chest, demanding some sort of response, yet all he could do was grind his teeth tighter together.
How could he let her know? This beautiful, carefree, intelligent, loving woman to whom he could lay no claim... How could he let her know the simple truth?
He turned away before he could see the questions deepen in her pure blue eyes and strode to his office, slamming the door shut behind him and returning to his desk.
Try as he might, the columns and figures blurred together. He pressed his fingertips to his forehead, trying to massage some sort of meaning into them.
It was pointless, really. No matter which way he rearranged them—no matter how many times he added them up—the answer was always the same.
It wouldn’t last.
Couldn’t last.
And the sooner he came to terms with that, the better.
* * *
“How’s your grip? Still strong?” Fran wheeled herself around in Pia’s wheelchair to the edge of the pool.
Pia looked up at Fran from where she was being towed along the shallow end of the pool’s edge and grinned. “I think Freda is doing most of the work here, but I’m still hanging on.” She faked letting go of the mop head Fran had rigged up as a steering wheel between her and Freda.
“Ha-ha. Better not let your uncle see that.”
“You mean Zio the Thundercloud?”
“Yeah.” Fran did her best to stay neutral. “Him.”
She and Luca had rigorously stuck to their boundaries over the past week.
Lover by night—ridiculously fabulous.
Physio and hydrotherapist by day—so much more rewarding than she’d remembered. Teenagers were a hoot.
And, of course, assistance-dog trainer by afternoon.
Although Pia was doing well, Fran had resorted to inventing hybrid physio-hydro-canine combo therapies. If the teen kept it up, Fran would be extraneous before long and would be able to go home.
Home.
Three weeks ago it had been all she could dream of. Her dad. Her new business. But now leaving Mont di Mare seemed more punishment than pleasure.
“How are your wheelchair skills coming along?” Pia teased, openly laughing when Fran tried to mimic her teenage charge and pop a wheelie but failed.
“I’ve still got a way to go to be on par with you.”
“You could always get in a car accident that pretty much ruins your life. Then you’d catch up pretty quick,” Pia shot back.
From the shocked look on Pia’s face Fran knew the teen hadn’t meant the words as they’d sounded. Dark. Angry.
“Scusi, Francesca. I didn’t mean—”
“Hey...” Fran held up her hands. “This is a safe zone.” She drew an invisible circle around the pool area, where she knew it would just be the two of them for the next hour or so as Luca and the rest of the staff were still neck-deep in appointments in the main clinic buildings. “You can say whatever you like. Better out than in, right?”
“Anything?” Pia asked incredulously.
“Anything.” Fran gave a definitive nod.
What she wouldn’t have done to have had an older woman in her life when she was growing up. Someone to confide in. To ask those awkward girl questions that adolescence unearthed.
“Do you think I will ever be able to do more in this pool than be dragged back and forth by Freda?” Pia’s face shifted from plaintive to apologetic in an instant. “Not that I don’t totally love her. Or this. Or being here with you. It’s just...sometimes it’s really frustrating.”
Fran nodded. It was impossible to imagine. She could just step up and out of the wheelchair whenever she chose and dive into the pool. Do a cartwheel. Anything.
She considered Pia for a moment, then focused on the path Freda was taking, back and forth along the length of the pool.
“It’s too bad we can’t get Edison in there. He would tow you around like a motorboat!”
The second the words were out of her mouth Fran regretted saying them. From the ear-to-ear grin on Pia’s face it was more than obvious that to her being pulled around at high speed sounded great.
“That would be amazing! Zio Luca would—”
“Go apople
ctic with rage,” Francesca finished for her.
“It’s not like anyone else is using the pool.” Pia splashed a bit of water toward her.
“Yet,” Fran intoned meaningfully, lifting her face up to the sun. “But once everyone’s properly settled this place will be more popular than the walk-in refrigerator.”
“You mean wheel-in, don’t you, Fran?” Pia teased.
“Si. Of course. Wheel-in fridge. Either way, I don’t think your uncle would be happy to know the pool maintenance guy might be scooping dog hair out of the filters.”
“We could do it! I’d do it. All I’d have to do is lie on the ground before I get in my chair and just fish it all out. Excellent upper body strengthening opportunity.” Pia smiled cheekily. “He would never have to know.”
Fran gave her a sidelong glance. “I think you know as well as I do that your uncle is all seeing, all knowing.” She pointed up to the security camera she was praying he wasn’t keeping an eye on.
“He’s a pussycat, really.”
“Mountain lion, more like.”
A sexy mountain lion, with far too much weight on his shoulders.
He shouldn’t have to do all this alone. If only she could stay. Share the load.
She wheeled the chair around in a few idle circles, unable to stop a sigh heaving out of her chest. Edison appeared with a ball in his mouth, his permanently worried-looking eyebrows jigging up and down above his amber eyes.
“Don’t worry, boy,” she whispered into the soft fold of his ear. “I’m not sad. I’m...perplexed. Wanna play catch?”
Back and forth went the ball and the dog. Back and forth. Just like her thoughts.
It wasn’t as if she wanted to win Luca’s heart or anything. She just really believed in everything he was doing here at the clinic.
Boundaries.
A sudden frisson swept through her as her thoughts slipped far too easily back to the bedroom. Had she actually bitten into his shoulder last night, when the explosion of their mutual climax had hit the heavens and returned her to earth in thousands of glittery, grinning pieces?
She threw the ball again. Harder this time.
