The jolt of the old elevator was barely noted—there was just relief that they could get out.
They almost ran.
Raul took her hand and led her with haste through a long corridor lined with ancient mirrors and lit with white pillar candles.
And at the end, as if she were looking through a keyhole, there was the reward of open wooden doors that revealed a vast bed.
She would wake up soon, Lydia was sure.
She would wake up from this sensual dream.
Yet she did not.
There were colours that rained on the walls and the bed, yet she was too into Raul to look for their source.
And was she scared?
No.
Shy?
Not a bit.
Raul stripped, and then no words were needed, no instruction required, as naked, erect, he dealt with her dress.
Lydia held up her hair as he unzipped her.
She shook as he removed the dress, then her bra.
And she moaned as he knelt to remove first her shoes and then the final garment between them.
Raul slid the silk down and probed her with his tongue. Lydia stood and knotted her fingers in his hair, and as Raul gently eased in two fingers, though it hurt, it was bliss.
She parted her legs as he licked and stretched her, and ensured she was oiled at the same time.
He turned away from her then, reaching for the bedside table.
‘You’re on the Pill?’
Lydia nodded, a touch frantic. She wanted no pause for she needed him inside her.
Lydia had the rest of her life to be sensible and behave.
Just this night.
He took her to his bed and they knelt upon it, kissing and caressing each other. Gliding their hands over each other’s body. His muscled and taut...hers softer. They recreated the scene from earlier, at the glassblower’s, because it had felt at the time as if they were watching themselves.
‘Since we met...’ Raul said, and kissed her arched neck.
And her breasts ached for him, but not as much as between her legs.
His erection was pressed against her stomach, nudging, promising, and he wanted to take her kneeling but was aware that it was her first time, and he had felt how tight she was with his fingers.
Raul tried to kiss her into lying down so that he could take things slowly.
She resisted.
And he was glad that she did.
He raised her higher, hooked her leg around him and held himself. And she rested her arms over his shoulders and then lowered herself.
A little.
It hurt, but it was the best hurt.
Raul’s eyes were open, and they were both barely breathing, just focused on the bliss they felt.
‘Since we met...’ he said again, and his voice was low, rich and smoky.
And she lowered herself a little more, and he felt her, tight and hot.
She wanted him so badly but could not see that last bit through. ‘Raul...’
There was a plea in her voice again, and he heeded it and took control and thrust hard.
Lydia sobbed as he seared into her. Everything went black, and not just because she’d screwed her eyes closed. She thought she might faint, but he took her hips and held her still and waited as best he could for her to open her eyes.
They opened, and she thought she would never get used to it—ever—but then her breathing evened. And when she opened her eyes again, as she had on the canal, this time they met his.
Raul’s hand went to the very base of her spine. His touch was sensual and she moved a little, slowly, acclimatising to the feel of him within her.
She was sweaty and hot as his hands moved to her buttocks and he started to thrust.
‘Raul...’
She wanted him to slow down, yet he was moving slowly.
And then Lydia wanted him never to stop.
Pain had left and in its place was a craving, an intense desire for more of what built within.
His hands had guided her into rhythm, but now she found her own. And it was slower than they could account for, for their bodies were frantic, but they relished the intense pleasure. Raul felt the oiled and yet tight grip of her, and each thrust brought him deeper into the mire, to savour or release. Lydia was lost to sensation. His breath in her ear was like music as it combined with the energies concentrated within her.
Her calf ached, but she did not have the will to move it, and then her inner thighs tensed as she parted around him.
The centre of her felt pulled so tight it was almost a spasm, and then she was lost for control and he held her still. And then, when she had thought he could fill her no more, Raul swelled and thrust—rapid and fast.
Lydia screamed, just a little, but it was a sound she had never made before and it came from a place she had never been.
Her legs coiled tight around him, her body hot and pulsing as he filled her.
‘Since we met,’ he said as she rested her head on his shoulder and felt the last flickers of their union fade, ‘I’ve wanted you.’
‘And I you,’ Lydia said, for it was the truth.
And then he kissed her down from what felt like the ceiling.
‘Res...’ Raul said, and then halted and changed what he had been about to say. ‘Rest.’
And she lay there in his arms, silent.
Lydia knew there could be no going back from what had just taken place.
And it had nothing to do with innocence lost.
How the hell did she go back to her life without him?
CHAPTER TEN
A GORGEOUS CHANDELIER, creating prisms of light in every shade of spring, was the first thing Lydia saw when she awoke.
There was a long peal of bells ringing out in the distance, but it was a closer, more occasional, deep, sonorous chime that held her attention. It rang low, soft and yet clear, till the sound slowly faded. When it struck again she remembered gliding underneath the Bridge of Sighs with his kiss.
Lydia knew the legend.
She had stood by the bridge with one of her school friends and struck it from her study sheet.
Eternal love and bliss had not applied to her then and it could not now, Lydia knew.
And so she stared up instead and remembered her vow to not show the hurt when it ended.
Pinks, lemons and minty greens dotted the ceiling, and she saw that the beads were actually flowers that threw little prisms of light across the room.
He was awake.
Stretching languorously beside her.
Lydia relished the moment.
His hand slid to her hips and pulled her closer, and rather than ponder over the fact that soon she would be gone, Lydia chose to keep things light.
‘I never pictured you as a man who might have a chandelier in the bedroom.’
Raul gave a low laugh.
He was a mystery, but not hers to solve, and so she did her best to maintain a stiff upper lip.
‘A floral chandelier at that,’ Lydia added. Her eyes could not stop following the beams of light. ‘Though I have to say it’s amazing.’
‘It drives me crazy,’ Raul admitted. ‘When I first moved in I considered having it taken down, or changing the master bedroom, but the view of the canal is the best from here.’
‘Oh, you can’t have it taken down,’ Lydia said.
‘Easy for you to say. I feel like I am having laser surgery on my eyes some mornings.’
Lydia smiled and carried on watching the light show.
She never wanted to move.
Or rather she did, but only to the beat of their lovemaking.
His hand was making circles on her stomach and he was hard
against her thigh.
Lydia didn’t want to check the time just to find out how little time they had left.
‘I love your home.’
‘You haven’t really seen it.’
And she was about to throw him a line about how she could live in just his bedroom for ever, but it would come out wrong, she knew.
He watched the lips he had been about to kiss press together.
Raul saw that.
Then he thought of what he’d been about to say last night.
Restare.
Stay.
He should be congratulating himself for not making such a foolish mistake by uttering that word last night.
Yet the feeling was still there.
And so Raul, far safer than making love to her, as he wanted to, told her how he had come by his home.
‘There is a café nearby that I go to. I sometimes see Silvio there, and we chat. On one occasion he told me that this palazzo had come on the market. He was not interested in purchasing it but had been to view it as some of his early work was inside.’
I don’t care, Lydia wanted to say. I want to be kissed.
Yet she did care.
And she did want to know about his home and how he had come by it.
She wanted more information to add to the file marked ‘Raul Di Savo’ that her heart would soon have to close.
And his voice was as deep as that occasional bell and it resonated in every cell of her body.
She wanted to turn her mouth to feel his, but she lay listening instead.
‘Half a century ago it underwent major refurbishment. Silvio made all the internal door handles with his grandfather. But it was the chandelier in the master bedroom that he really wanted to see.’
And now they both lay bathed in the dancing sunbeams of the chandelier as he told its tale.
‘It was created by three generations of Silvio’s family, long before he was born. I knew that I had to see it, so I called Allegra to arrange a viewing, and then, when I saw it, I had to own it.’
‘I can see why.’ Lydia sighed. ‘I’m back in love with Venice.’
And then she said it.
‘I never want to leave.’
It was just what people said at the end of a good trip, Raul knew, but silence hung in the air now, the bells were quiet, and it felt as if even the sky awaited his response.
He needed to think—away from Lydia. For the temptation was still there to say it, to roll into her and make love to her and ask her to remain.
It was unfamiliar and confusing enough for Raul to deal with, let alone her. And so he tried to dismiss the thought in his head that refused to leave.
And Raul knew that Lydia needed her heart that was starting to soar to be reined in.
‘People love their holidays,’ Raul said. ‘I know that. I study it a lot in my line of work. But there is one thing I have consistently found—no matter how luxurious the surroundings, or how fine the cognac, no matter how much my staff do everything they can to ensure the very best stay...’ he could see tears sparkle in her eyes and he had never once seen her even close to crying before ‘...at the end of even the most perfect stay most are ready to go back to their lives.’
‘Not always.’ Lydia fought him just a little.
And they both fought to keep the conversation from getting too heavy, but they were not discussing holidays—they both knew that.
‘I know,’ Lydia persisted, ‘that when I’ve had a really good holiday I want more of it...even just a few more days...’ She lied, and they both knew it, because Lydia had never had a really good holiday, but he kept to the theme.
‘Then that means it was an exceptional trip—a once-in-a-lifetime experience. A guest should always leave wanting more.’
He saw her lips turn white at this relegation and tempered it just a little as he told her they could never be. ‘I’ll tell you something else I have found—if people do return to that treasured memory it is never quite the same.’
‘No.’ Lydia shook her head.
‘True,’ Raul insisted. ‘We have couples come back for their anniversary and they complain that the hotel has changed, or that the waterways are too busy, or that the restaurant they once loved is no longer any good... And I know they are wrong, that my hotel has got better since they were there and that the restaurant retains its standard. I know that the waterways of Venice are ever beautiful. It is the couple who have changed.’
‘How arrogant of you to assume your guests have no cause for complaint.’
‘They don’t.’
And as she fought for her belief that all things might be possible, that their slice of time might lead to more, his words thwarted her.
‘Why risk spoiling something wonderful?’ Raul asked, but when Lydia didn’t answer he lay there asking himself the same thing.
Why would he even risk suggesting that she stay?
But didn’t guests extend their stays all the time?
Only Lydia wasn’t a guest.
He climbed from the bed and attempted to get life back to normal.
‘I’m going out for a little while,’ Raul told her. ‘I’ll bring back breakfast.’
Only ‘normal’ seemed to have left—for Raul never brought back breakfast, and he certainly didn’t eat it in bed.
But he had made plans yesterday when she had walked out in that dress. He had sworn to give her the best of Venice, and now it was time to execute that plan.
Then things could get back to normal—once she had gone his head would surely clear.
Lydia, he decided, wasn’t a guest—she was in fact a squatter who had taken over his long-abandoned heart.
‘You’d better call soon to transfer your flight.’
‘I will,’ Lydia said, glad that he was going out for breakfast. She just needed the space, for the air between them had changed. And she was cross with Raul that he should be able to see her off on a plane after the time they had shared.
And he was cross that he was considering otherwise—that he was still considering asking her to stay.
Raul shot her an angry glance as she watched him dress, but she didn’t see it. Lydia was too busy watching as he pulled on black jeans over his nakedness.
He looked seedy and unshaven, and he was on the edge of hardening again, and she fought not to pull up her knees as lust punched low in her stomach.
He pulled on black boots, although it was summer, and then turned to reach for his top. She saw the nail marks on his scarred back and the injury toll from yesterday started to surface.
She was starting to feel sore.
Deliciously so.
‘Go back to sleep,’ Raul suggested.
He went to walk out, but his resident squatter did what she always did and niggled at his conscience. And so, rather than stalk out, he went over and bent down and gave her a kiss.
* * *
They were arguing, Lydia knew.
And she liked it.
His jaw scratched as he fought with himself to remove his mouth and get out, and then her tongue was the one to part his lips.
And that perfunctory kiss was no more.
Hellcat.
She made him want.
He was dressed and kneeling on the bed, kissing her hard, and she was arching into him.
His hand was rough through the sheet, squeezing her breast hard, and she wanted him to whip the sheet off.
Her hand told the back of his head that.
Lydia wanted him to unzip himself and to feel rough denim.
And so he stopped kissing her and stood.
Raul liked her endless wanting.
And he liked it that he wanted to go back to bed.
And that was very c
oncerning to him.
Yes, he needed to think.
‘Why don’t you go back to sleep?’ Raul suggested again, his voice even and calm, with nothing to indicate the passion he was walking away from.
Apart from the bulge in his jeans.
She gave a slightly derisive laugh at the suggestion that she might find it possible to sleep as he walked to the door.
Raul took the elevator down and, as he always did on a Sunday, drove the speedboat himself. He took it slowly. The sky was a riot of pink and orange, and there was the delicious scent of impending rain hanging heavily in the air.
Her gift would be arriving soon, and Raul badly needed some time alone to think.
Restare.
Stay.
He had almost said it out loud last night but had held back, worried that he might regret it in the light of day. Yet the light was here and the word was still there, on the tip of his tongue and at the front of his thoughts.
Usually he would take breakfast at his favourite café and sit watching the world go by, or on occasion chat with a local such as Silvio.
Not this morning.
He wanted to be home.
On a personal level Raul had never really understood the pleasure of breakfast in bed. He always rose early and, whether home or away, was dressed for the first coffee of the day and checking emails before it had even been poured.
On a business level Raul had both examined and profited from it. There was a lovers’ breakfast served at his hotel here in Venice, and a favourite on the menu was the baci in gondola—sweet white pastry melded with dark chocolate.
Raul was at his favourite café and ordering them now—only this time he was asking them to be placed in one of their trademark boxes and tied with a red velvet ribbon.
It was to be a true lovers’ breakfast, because he did not want maids intruding, and he wanted his coffee stronger and sweeter than usual today.
Raul wore the barista’s eye-roll when he also asked for English Breakfast Tea.
‘Cinque minute, Raul,’ the waitress told him.
Five minutes turned into seven, and he was grateful for the extra two, but even when they had passed still the thought remained.
Restare.
He wanted a chance for them.
* * *
Lydia lay, half listening to the sounds of Venice on a Sunday morning, and thought of their lovemaking.
Innocent's Secret Baby (Billionaires & One-Night Heirs, Book #1) Page 11
