Tilly’s eyes were heavy—and no wonder. Sleep had been snatched between making love to Rio—and they’d done that a lot. Her body was sore all over, but deliciously so. Every movement reminded her of how he’d claimed her, of how she had moved over him, taking him deep inside her. She stretched a little, sighing and letting her eyes drift shut as sleep began to press down on her.
Rio’s hand on her hair was perfect. Gentle, reassuring. Loving.
Her smile widened. She felt like the cat who’d got the cream. Future be damned; in this perfect moment she was going to enjoy it.
She was almost asleep when the purring of a boat’s engine penetrated her haze of pleasure.
‘Rafaelo...’ he murmured.
She pushed up onto her elbows in time to see the older man push an anchor overboard.
‘Stay here,’ Rio said, and the words were a command she found incredibly sexy, even when a part of her knew she should be offended at being ordered around.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he brought his body over hers and she was reminded of how much she wanted him—needed him—and how incredible he felt on top of her. Her throat was parched, her mind blank.
‘You look too perfect. I want to see you like this always.’ He kissed her quickly, and then stood with an athleticism she couldn’t help but admire.
‘We’re going to go and check for damage. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.’
‘An hour?’ She pouted again and he laughed.
‘Half an hour,’ he amended, winking and then turning towards the ocean and jogging the rest of the way to the boat.
She watched, not bothering to hide her interest, as he took a cardboard box from the boat and began to walk towards the cabin.
She stood reluctantly, tiredness still fogging her, but a plan giving urgency to her movements.
‘Mind if I check my email?’ she called towards him, striding away on a trajectory that would lead her to the cabin too.
They arrived at the deck together.
‘No. I will dial it in for you now.’
‘I can manage,’ she said, and he arched a brow.
‘Without electrocuting yourself?’
‘Hey!’ She punched his arm playfully.
He grinned, pulling the door open and holding it with his foot so she could precede him into the house.
‘What’s in the box?’ she asked, peeking over the top as he walked behind her.
‘Groceries. Batteries. Candles. And newspapers.’
‘Ready for a siege?’
‘Or another blackout,’ he pointed out.
He placed the box on the kitchen bench, then moved to his laptop. He opened it up and logged into the phone’s signal, then straightened.
She looked so beautiful—so different from the images he’d seen of her in the press. In those pictures she was always made up to within an inch of her life, her body bared for the world to see. Here, she was stunning, but in a completely natural way, her hair shimmering, her eyes enormous, her skin fresh.
He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I won’t be long.’
She watched him walk towards the door.
When he reached it, he turned to face her. ‘Cara?’
She waited, her breath held, for him to speak.
‘Don’t go tomorrow.’
Another command. One her heart and soul wanted her to obey.
‘I’m sorry?’ she whispered, not sure if it was an apology or a question.
‘Don’t go. Not yet.’
She bit down on her lower lip and tears built at the back of her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.
‘Rafaelo’s waiting,’ she said in response, the words moist.
He nodded—a curt tilt of his head. ‘Si, lo so. And yet we need to discuss this.’
‘We will. But not now.’
Not until she’d emailed Cressida.
He seemed to take that as acquiescence. The smile he flashed her as he walked out through the door was filled with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
And it made her heart swell even more.
She made herself a coffee—or a kip in a cup, as she liked to think of it—and then moved to his laptop. Even that made her smile, at how much it reminded her of him. She ran her fingertips over the case of the screen, her pulse tingling. She sipped her coffee and loaded up a browser.
Her inbox was full—little one-liners from her mother, a chatty email from Jack that filled her with hope that he was sounding more like himself again, and a few from Art, asking where to locate various files or emails.
She dealt with the business ones first, apologising for having been out of contact, then she opened up her Facebook profile. It was a time-waster she couldn’t afford. She’d peruse her friends’ holiday photos and new baby pictures another time. When she was back in England. When this was over and reality was intruding.
She clicked on to Cressida’s profile, marvelling as always at how similar-looking they were, and opened up a new message to her.
Hey, I hope you’re having a good time. Something’s happened here and...
And what? I can’t keep your secret? The secret you paid me thirty thousand pounds for? She groaned and deleted the sentence, staring at the blinking cursor.
She wasn’t afraid of Cressida. Not at all. But Matilda Morgan was honourable and loyal, and she’d promised Cressida that she would do this.
Was it Cressida’s fault that Matilda had fallen head over heels in love with Rio Mastrangelo?
Hi, Cressida. It’s Tilly.
Crap. That was even worse. She’d know who was messaging her! Matilda deleted it, then took a big gulp of coffee.
* * *
Cressida, we need to speak.
She loitered over the ‘send’ button for a moment and then hit it before she could second-guess what she was doing. She bit down on her lip, and had gone back to her emails when a ‘ping’ noise indicated that she’d received a new message.
Her breath held, she clicked back into Facebook and saw a little green circle beside Cressida’s name. She opened the message up, her nerves firing in every direction as Cressida began to type. The little dots moved frantically and Tilly waited with impatient panic.
Finally words appeared, and Tilly leaned close to the screen as she read them.
Hey, babes! What’s up? Hope you’re having a bloody ball. I know I am. You are such a superstar for doing this for me! I owe you. xxxxxxxx
Tilly couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. Cressida was extravagant with praise and censure. She was one hundred and ten per cent sure of how she felt at all times.
Tilly ran her fingertip over the space bar as she tried to find words. Eventually she typed her reply, testing the water with a small white lie.
Don’t thank me yet. I think Rio suspects something.
The response was immediate.
You’re not serious?
Tilly expelled a breath and began to type again.
Yes. Did you know he was going to be the one showing me around? For a whole week?
There was a pause and Tilly suspected Cressida was doing her own word-searching, looking for a way to explain why she hadn’t been upfront about that.
Now that you mention it, I think Daddy did say that might be the case. Something about not wanting people to know he was selling the island.
Tilly ground her teeth together.
A heads-up would have been nice. We’re sharing a tiny cabin...
Cressida sent a little laughing face emoji which made Tilly roll her eyes.
It’s not funny.
Tilly’s response was another emoji and then:
LOL! Sorry. Just imagining Miss Prim & Proper spending a week on a gorgeous island with that spectacular piece of man. What a wasted opportunity. Maybe I should have gone instead...
Tilly expelled an angry breath.
Actually... she began to write, thinking through a way to tell Cressida the truth that wouldn’t result in gossip
spreading like wildfire.
‘Urghhhh!’ she shouted into the cabin.
It was useless. She was caught between a rock and a hard place. If she told Cressida that she’d fallen in love with Rio, Cressida might tell the world—and Tilly didn’t want that.
Although... Realisation fired inside her. Cressida was as bound by silence as Tilly was. How could Cressida spread the news about Tilly and Rio without owning up to her own part in the scheme, thereby admitting to her deception?
The thing is, I like him.
Tilly sent the message, instinctively disliking the lukewarm sentiment.
And I want to see him again.
There was a pause. A long silence.
No.
Tilly read the single-word response with indignation.
What do you mean, ‘no’?
The dots began to move and Tilly waited, gnawing on her lower lip and fidgeting with her fingers in her lap.
Part of our deal is that you don’t tell anyone. That’s what I pay you for. What good is it having a doppelgänger if I can’t trust you?
Tilly squeezed her eyes shut. Thirty thousand pounds. The money she’d given Jack to save his life. Or at least his kneecaps.
Can we find a way around this? Tilly responded, her heart pounding, her eyes wet.
What do you suggest? If you tell him, he’ll tell Dad. And that’s not our deal.
Tilly swiped at her eyes, pushing the tears away.
I’m going to see him again.
Silence.
Tilly stared at the computer, but no dots were moving.
Finally, Cressida began to type.
If you tell Rio, I’ll tell Dad. And not just about this. About all the jobs you’ve done for me. I’m sure he’d be fascinated to hear how his golden-girl PA has been lying to him for years.
Tilly’s cheeks flushed pink.
Come on, Cressida. I’m not trying to ruin anything for you—I think Rio would keep this to himself.
Tilly waited, her body radiating with silent tension.
It’s your decision. Don’t forget to send my 30k back if you tell him, though.
The words were black and white, and Tilly saw them through a veil of stars.
A memory of Jack’s face, so grateful, so relieved when she’d given him the cheque, flashed before her.
What a mess.
I have to go. Just remember, Tilly, you’ve got as much to lose in this as I do.
Cressida’s little green dot disappeared, signalling that she’d logged off. Tilly still stared at the screen, though, re-reading their conversation with a falling feeling.
She had to tell Rio.
Surely she could get a bank loan for that amount, and repay Cressida? Still, loyalty strained at her heart. It was hardly Cressida’s fault that Tilly had fallen in love with Rio. Cressida had every right to expect Tilly to uphold their agreement. Sure, she’d reacted like a cornered cat, but Tilly could hardly blame her.
With a grunt of annoyance she clicked out of Facebook, and out of her emails, and shut the lid on the laptop. Her coffee cup was empty but she was still tired.
Not from sleep-deprivation now so much as mental exhaustion. She’d turned the problem over again and again and there was still no answer. Nothing.
Except that she had to tell Rio. Somehow she had to make him understand that it had been innocent. She hadn’t set out to deceive him, and she didn’t want to deceive him for a moment longer.
He was gone longer than the appointed half-hour, though. An hour went by, then another thirty minutes, and she was contemplating going to look for him when he appeared at the doorway. He was covered in sweat and dirt and she’d never wanted him more.
‘Hi.’
Sadness bubbled through her. Despair, too. But nothing mattered more than being honest with him.
‘Hi,’ he responded.
‘Everything okay?’ she asked warily.
‘A few fallen trees, rocks—nothing major. The path is blocked halfway up, so no more volcano visits for you.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You look pale.’
‘I’m just tired,’ she lied, forcing an over-bright smile to her face.
He studied her thoughtfully and then shrugged, as though her answer satisfied him. After all, they hadn’t got a lot of sleep the night before.
‘I’m starving. I could eat a horse.’ He pulled the fridge door open and peered inside.
Tilly moved behind him. ‘Rio?’
He lifted out the platter they’d picked at the night before, still full of olives, cheese, grapes and grissini.
‘Si, cara?’
‘I need to talk to you about something.’
He placed the platter between them, peeling off the plastic wrap, his eyes probing hers. ‘Go on.’
‘I...’
I’m not who you think. I’ve been lying to you. I’m not Cressida Wyndham. You know nothing about me.
She groaned inwardly, her mouth unable to form the words she needed to say.
‘I have to go back as planned.’ She cleared her throat, and spun away from him, so that he wouldn’t detect the grief in her features.
She stared out of the large window, but her eyes saw nothing. Nothing. A bleakness, an emptiness, was settling in around her.
His arms around her waist were delirium and despair.
‘Then I will come with you,’ he said, the words husky.
It was a promise that she wrapped in her hands and held close to her heart for a moment.
But only a moment, because reality made that impossible. How could she risk seeing him again? It wouldn’t take long, back in London, for him to realise that she was not Cressida, and then the secret would be out anyway.
Her smile was weak.
He spun her in his arms and kissed her, first on her mouth and then on her temples. He kissed her as though he understood that she was broken in that moment, as though he wanted to glue her back together.
‘Ti amo,’ he said gently, lifting her up and cradling her against his chest, carrying her until they reached his bed, where he laid her down with the same reverence with which he’d kissed her.
His mouth took hers and his hands reached under her dress. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear and slowly he glided them down her legs, his palms teasing her flesh as he removed the scrap of fabric and dropped them to the floor.
‘Whatever it is that worries you, I will fix it.’ He crouched at her feet and kissed her ankle, rolling his tongue over the round bone before dragging it higher, flicking just behind her knee, and higher still to the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.
She groaned when his tongue connected with her womanhood, teasing her and driving all thought from her mind. His fingers dug into her thighs as he parted her legs, giving him access to her core.
She trembled.
The power of emotion and need he stirred washed over her and she was both powerless and empowered. It was an ancient act—one that they had made uniquely their own. She tilted her hips and he kissed higher, trailing a line to her belly button, his fingers wrapping into the fabric of her dress, pushing it up with him.
He was gone then, and she groaned, her body unable to exist without his nearness, his touch, his attention. He pushed out of his shorts, and then he was back. She almost cried with relief. His mouth sought her once more, his tongue whispering against her folds. She felt her blood pressure was about to burst.
‘Rio!’ she cried out, rocking on the bed as orgasm broke around her. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling at it, fire and flame ravaging her. A sheen of sweat glossed her pale flesh.
‘I never want to stop this,’ she murmured, not even aware of what she was saying.
‘We won’t,’ he agreed, and his hands were parting her legs so that he could enter her, take her, make her his.
And she was his. Completely.
From the second he thrust into her she knew she would find a way to solve this—without hurting Cressida, without betraying her pr
omises, and without losing Rio. There was some kind of magic out there somewhere. She just had to uncover it.
His hands were roughened by demand as they moved over her body, pushing at the dress until they found her breasts and cupped them. He groaned as he massaged their weight, his fingers teasing her sensitive nerves while he drove into her.
She was lost at sea. She arched her back and lifted her legs, and he dropped a hand, catching her thigh and holding it, holding her leg where it was, high in the air. He nipped at her calf with his teeth and she groaned.
It was sensual torment. She was a willing prisoner and would be for ever.
Pressure built; it was a dam about to burst. She could not contain it. She didn’t want to. She caught hold of his shoulders as it broke and he was on top of the water, riding the wave with her, his body moving in unison with hers, pleasure dousing them together.
Their panting filled the room, and finally pleasure. Release. Relief.
She wrapped her arms around him and brushed her cheek to his.
She belonged here. With Rio.
* * *
Tilly couldn’t have said how much time passed. Knew only that they lay together, bodies entwined, sweat mingling, needs satiated—for the moment—until he spoke.
‘I was gone too long,’ he said with a rueful grin. ‘I was ready to punch Rafaelo when he suggested we tour yet another path.’
Her smile was wide on her face, her lips pink, her cheeks stained from desire. ‘You’re forgiven.’
He laughed. ‘I’m glad.’ He pressed a kiss against her forehead. ‘Want to come and see the caves?’
‘Caves?’ she murmured, her eyes showing confusion.
‘I said we’d get back to them, remember?’
She did—of course. She just hadn’t thought of them since. She nodded. She would find a way to tell him the truth, and in the meantime what harm could come from enjoying every minute they had left on the island?
‘Sounds perfect.’
And it was.
The caves were every bit as beautiful as she’d imagined. Swimming in them with Rio was something she would always remember—something to cherish. But her nerves were stretching to breaking point. Every joke they shared, every kiss, hug, touch, made her more conscious of the fact that she needed to tell him the truth.
Innocent in the Billionaire's Bed Page 13
