She cried out as it reached fever pitch and then broke across her. She dug her nails into his shoulders and held on for dear life, hoping it would save her. The galaxy was around her, cosmic and beautiful, and she was flying through it, just a piece of flotsam, a heavenly, bliss, pleasure-filled piece of flotsam.
He dropped his mouth to her breasts and took one into his mouth, rolling his tongue over her nipple as his fingers sought the other, tormenting it between his forefinger and thumb. Her breasts ached for him and he knew that. He pushed deeper inside her and she sobbed—it was a sob of relief. Of joy. Of gratitude.
It was also a sob of fear.
What hope did she have of controlling her emotions when there was this to contend with? It didn’t matter if she called it ‘having sex’ or ‘sleeping together’ or ‘making love’. A rose by any other name...
She was making love. Every touch, every movement, every sensation, was binding her with the emotion and she would never be free of that.
‘I loved you so much,’ she said, the words not exactly what she wanted to say, yet they were a reflection of what she was thinking, feeling, needing him to know.
Another explosion built, starting deep in her abdomen and spreading to the far reaches of her body, carrying delirium in its wake so that her fingertips tingled and she burst apart with pleasure. He kissed her harder and then he joined her, the rapture holding them both, wrapping around them with the same sense of urgency and euphoric release. Their breathing was in unison. Hard and fast, it filled the room. He pulled away a little, his eyes heavy as they surveyed her.
‘That was a nice surprise,’ he murmured minutes later, once their breath had slowed and a hint of normality had returned to the room.
She didn’t say anything. She was a tangle of feelings that had gone from delight to despair in the space of seconds. The same desire that was beautiful and mesmerising was also a trap. It was a torment.
She looked at him and then turned her face.
‘Are you okay?’ The question was filled with such tenderness that her heart splintered off, new shards joining the old.
‘I am now,’ she bluffed, bravado brightening her voice. He rolled off her but pulled her to him, holding her back to his chest, his arm curled around her body in a gesture of intimacy that hadn’t even belonged in their marriage. She lay against him, her body curled like a conch shell, her eyes on the moonlit wallpaper opposite, her heart breaking as she felt his beating, hard and resolute.
Determined.
The problem with whatever the hell they’d just done was that everything felt so perfect. In contrast to the reality of their situation, when she was in his arms, when his body was buried in hers, she could believe that they were in a fairy tale.
The ending, the inevitable realisation that it wasn’t perfect, was like being dropped into the middle of a war zone. Remembering that only a week and a half earlier she’d stormed her way into his office demanding a divorce—a divorce he had agreed to!—was like being doused in cold water.
Slowly, once sleep had claimed him firmly in its grasp, she wriggled away from his warmth, moving to the opposite side of the bed at first and flipping on her side to look at him as he slept.
His breathing was even, his expression relaxed. He wasn’t tormented by the emotional barrenness of their marriage.
He didn’t care about it.
He didn’t want anything from her.
Except for the hotel.
And now the baby.
And, yes, sex.
That was what their marriage boiled down to for him.
She had to find a way to remember that. Then, she’d be okay. Wouldn’t she?
* * *
‘I had an incredible dream last night.’ The words were drawled and deep, murmured from across the table where they were eating breakfast.
‘I think I had the same dream,’ she responded without looking at him. It was easier to play it light, to be cool and relaxed when she wasn’t looking at him.
She turned her attention back to the paper, skimming the news without really taking any of it in. Silence returned and she was momentarily mollified by it. She sipped her coffee, replacing it carefully on the table. His hand reached out and covered hers, and her pulse kicked up a notch.
‘Why did you leave?’
Skye’s gaze jolted to his. ‘When?’
‘Last night.’
She looked down at the paper again. ‘Was I meant to stay?’
‘It was late. You must have been tired.’
She looked at him briefly, holding his gaze with what she hoped passed as unconcern, then gave the paper her attention once more. As if to underscore that she was in fact reading, and not just staring at a collection of words on the page, she pulled her hand free from his and turned a page. ‘I sleep better in my own bed.’
‘You never had a problem in my room before...’
Skye swallowed. He wasn’t going to let this rest, apparently. She forced herself to meet his eyes and dropped the act. Her face was stern, her voice not a tone that invited argument. ‘I don’t want that.’
His eyes roamed her face thoughtfully. ‘You won’t sleep in my bed, but you’ll come to my room when you want sex in the middle of the night?’
She nodded slowly. ‘Yeah.’
‘So I am like...a booty call?’ he prompted, wiggling his brows so that she laughed—a laugh borne of relief that he had dropped his inquisition.
‘Yep.’
He shook his head. ‘Mmm, but then when I wake up wanting you, you are not within reach.’
‘And you can’t walk down the corridor, as I did?’
‘Ah.’ His eyes drew together. ‘Your advances are always welcome. I cannot be certain that you would feel the same if I were to reciprocate with a midnight intrusion.’
Skye’s cheeks flamed. ‘I thought you wanted to make me beg for you,’ she reminded him, and had the satisfaction of seeing something darken his eyes.
‘I haven’t done too well at that, have I?’
Skye arched a brow. ‘Looking for compliments?’
‘No.’ He was serious. ‘I’m glad you came to me last night, Skye.’
Her throat thickened and she looked away, her eyes suspiciously moist. Stupid pregnancy hormones making her emotions haywire! ‘It was the massage,’ she said with a shrug.
‘Then you shall have massages often.’ She turned back to him just in time to see him wink. Her chest compressed as though cement were being pressed against it. ‘But today? You are my prisoner in other ways.’
She paused, her expression showing curiosity.
‘Today, you rest. You relax and tell me what you need. I will bring you anything your heart desires.’
She nodded, but deep down she knew he could never do that. What her heart desired, really desired, wasn’t on offer from Matteo Vin Santo, and never would be.
CHAPTER NINE
SKYE PUSHED THE dress onto the hanger, adding it to the collection she was gathering in one side of the dressing room. She paused, midway through reaching for the next option, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her stomach, usually so flat, was thicker around the middle. Not round yet.
Just...different.
Her breasts had changed too. They were no longer neat and modest, and her bras had begun to pinch her sides painfully. It was enough to make her feel uncomfortable in her usual wardrobe. She ran her hands down her body, curling her fingertips over her flesh, breathing in deeply as though she could hear the little life inside her, if only she listened hard enough.
This was really happening.
Her smile was bright. She saw the joy in her face and it made her heart lurch.
Be careful, Skye. Don’t forget that this isn’t perfect. It’s not a fairy tale.
But the baby was pretty damned close. All her life, she’d never known true love. She thought she’d found it with Matteo, but she’d been wrong there.
The baby would love her, though, and she woul
d love him. With her whole heart. She would never, ever let him be hurt or sad, or feel alone or frightened. She lifted the final dress over her head, pulling it down, studying it from all angles before nodding and removing it.
She pulled her own shirt back on then tossed the new clothes over her arm and shouldered out of the changing room.
Matteo stood out like a sore thumb, waiting in the middle of the boutique, dressed in a dark suit. But he was holding something in his hands. As she got closer, her heart skidded against her rib cage. It was a soft toy.
A toy for their child.
‘I thought he would need something,’ Matteo said with a shrug and a bemused smile.
Skye smiled back but turned away quickly, feeling the now-familiar prick of tears threatening. She laid the dresses onto the counter in time to see the shop assistant practically wipe her drool from the side of her mouth, staring at Matteo as though he were gelato on a hot summer’s day.
Skye understood.
She’d felt like that plenty of times.
‘All this?’ the assistant asked in heavily accented English.
‘And the toy,’ Skye said with a nod. She waited while the assistant rung the clothes up and bagged them, and then Matteo slid his credit card across, something which both surprised and frustrated Skye.
‘You’re buying my clothes now?’ she enquired silkily as they stepped out of the boutique.
‘You only need new clothes because of my baby.’ His response was filled with infuriating logic.
‘My baby too.’
‘Yes, cara. I am aware of that. But it helps me feel...involved,’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a degree of honesty that made her gut clench.
‘Do you not feel involved otherwise?’
‘No, I mean, you get to grow the baby and all the work is yours for now. Delivery, nursing.’ He shrugged. ‘I want to do something too.’
She would never have thought he would feel that way. She chanced a sidelong glance at his profile and then looked straight ahead as they walked down the busy street. Tourists flocked around them.
‘You know, we haven’t talked about a nursery,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘That’s something you could help with.’
His whole face lit up. ‘Why had I not thought of this?’
Skye burst out laughing. ‘Uh-oh. Why do I feel like I’ve just made a very dangerous suggestion?’
‘You think three bedrooms will be enough?’
She shook her head. ‘One bedroom is definitely fine. And near mine.’
‘Ours,’ he said softly. He reached down and captured her hand. ‘I would like you to be in my room again, Skye.’
Danger lurked in the softly spoken statement. She made a small gesture of demur, knowing she could never concede that intimacy again. ‘Then we’ll both be waking up at all hours. Separate rooms are better.’ She tried to make the statement as light as possible, so that he wouldn’t know how her heart had thundered at the idea of surrendering all of herself to this marriage once again.
‘We’ll need a room for the nanny,’ he murmured, apparently still running a million miles an hour, planning for their baby in a whole new way now. One that Skye found, frankly, a tiny bit scary.
‘Hold up.’ She lifted a hand, pausing, turning to face him. ‘What nanny?’
‘You think we’ll need two? Perhaps a day nanny and a night nanny. How does this work?’
‘No, no, no. No nanny.’
Matteo’s expression showed confusion. ‘Skye, you don’t have to do this without help.’
‘You think I can’t do it?’
His sigh was exasperated. ‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Because I’m going to be a great mother.’ She froze. ‘Aren’t I?’ Suddenly she was dizzy, hot and cold. She moved away from him, towards the wall of a building. She propped herself against it; panic pursued her. ‘Oh, God. What if I’m not?’ Her eyes were huge when they met his.
‘You are going to be an excellent mother,’ he said, moving closer, his large body framing hers.
‘But you don’t know that. I don’t know that. I didn’t... I never even knew my mother. I had a succession of stepmothers and wasn’t close to any of them. I have no idea what being a mother actually means. What if I’m terrible? What if I shout? What if I’m impatient? What if I don’t know the rules? Oh, God, Matteo. I’m not going to be any good at this.’
His face showed his confusion, and also a hint of amusement that she deeply resented.
‘This isn’t funny.’ She groaned. ‘I got so caught up in how much I’d love this baby that I never really thought about whether or not I’d be able to give our baby what it needs. What if I can’t?’
‘Skye?’
‘I have no clue what time babies should go to sleep. Or kids. What about when he’s older and he wants to watch a scary movie?’
‘Skye?’
‘And food? What do babies eat? What if I poison our child? What if I choke our child?’
‘How are you going to choke it?’ He stifled a laugh.
‘I don’t know! By feeding it caramel when it’s two months old. I don’t know!’
He dropped his mouth to hers, suffocating the words that were tumbling out of her on a wave of panic. It was a kiss of reassurance, a kiss of kindness. He kissed her and she responded, her body leaning towards his, her fingers splaying wide across his shirt. His legs, so strong and firm, stood on either side of her body, effectively imprisoning her against the wall.
‘We’re going to need a nanny,’ she said into his mouth, the certainty that she didn’t want to do this alone absolute in her mind.
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I was wrong. We can get one later, if you feel it is necessary. If you want more freedom. Or if the baby isn’t sleeping and you need a rest. But I will be here. I will be holding your hand, just as you will be holding mine. This isn’t just your child, your responsibility. It’s mine too. We’re in it together.’
Slightly reassured, but still not convinced, she nodded. ‘Maybe we should just meet with a few agencies. Just in case.’
‘If you’d like,’ he shrugged. ‘Skye?’
She blinked up at him.
‘You are going to be a terrific mother. You are already so in love with our baby. That’s the most important thing by far.’ His eyes scanned her face. ‘I am sorry that you never felt that from your own mother.’
His words were precious. They meant the world to Skye. She didn’t know if he was right or not, but having his support was so important.
‘What if I’m not?’
‘You will be.’ His confidence did something strange inside of Skye. It tied knots around her heart, knots that made everything seem fine, good and safe. But there was danger in that safety, because it was so like the happiness she’d felt before. The happiness that had filled her heart and made her believe that their marriage was everything she’d been waiting for.
That he was the answer to questions she didn’t even know she had.
Her smile was guarded. She nodded slowly, mentally putting essential distance between them. Their past lay before her—quicksand that could devour her at any point if she didn’t take care.
‘Matteo?’
‘Si?’
She turned away from the wall, walking once more. Slowly. Thoughtfully. ‘Tell me about our families.’
She didn’t look up at him, so didn’t see the way his expression tightened. The way his lips dragged downwards with sour memories. ‘What would you like to know?’
Skye turned her fingers into the handle of the carrier bag. ‘I don’t know. I guess everything. My dad’s lawyer didn’t have all the details.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Only that your mother had been engaged to my father. That she met your dad and it was...love at first sight. That she ran away with him in the middle of the night.’ Skye shrugged.
‘Si.’ Matteo nodded warily. ‘Your father was young and arrogant. He couldn’t accept that yo
ur mother preferred my father. So he made her life miserable.’
‘Miserable how?’ Skye prompted, thinking of her father, and frowning when she could hardly call his face to mind.
‘He moved to Italy and turned up everywhere my parents went. When my mother conceived me, and your father began to accept that it was over, he turned to the business. It was a tough time for my grandfather—he had expanded too quickly and the global markets faltered. He was vulnerable and your father acted on that.’
‘How?’ Skye pushed.
‘He actively acquired my grandfather’s competitors and then drove my grandfather’s businesses into the ground. Nonno borrowed heavily to prop up his failing business interests but it was not enough. Eventually, he had to sell almost everything.’
‘Including the hotel,’ Skye murmured.
‘Your father didn’t want my grandfather’s businesses.’ His tone was grave. ‘He wanted simply to destroy them. To take something good and strong and ruin it just because he could.’
Skye’s eyes glistened with shame at the description of her father’s actions. Actions that made her wish Matteo was wrong. But she knew he wasn’t. Strange that she could trust him so implicitly on this matter when he’d proven himself to be just as duplicitous.
Matteo stared at her long and hard for a moment before allowing the conversation to move onwards. ‘The bankruptcy broke him. I went to live with him around the time it was happening. I saw a man who was proud and intelligent, who had worked hard all his life, be destroyed by the actions of your father.’
The hatred in the words chilled Skye to the core. But what could she say to refute it?
‘My father used to talk about a woman he had loved. I suppose it was your mother. I think losing her destroyed him, in the same way your grandfather’s business losses—’
‘No.’ Matteo’s interruption was swift, his rebuke absolute. ‘You cannot compare the two. My parents fell in love. There was nothing malicious in what they did. Your father spent a decade tearing my family’s wealth apart. It was his sole mission. He was motivated solely by revenge and hatred.’
‘Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?’ Skye murmured. The pleasant atmosphere of only moments ago had turned dark and uncomfortable. She felt the animosity of their past, the tension that had dogged her in the first days of their second attempt at marriage, and it was back with a vengeance.
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