by Sarah Morgan
The sun burned her shoulders and the salt water stung her eyes but she’d never been happier in her life, and when he pressed his mouth gently to hers the flash of excitement was instantaneous, so intense, that she pressed against him and opened her mouth under his.
‘Careful,’ he growled against her lips, ‘or all the cold water in the world isn’t going to help me.’
Surprised by the comment, Jessie pulled away slightly. ‘That’s why you wanted me in the water?’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Let’s just say that the self-control on which I pride myself appears to be non-existent where you’re concerned.’
Feeling a rush of excitement that she had that degree of effect on him, Jessie slid her hands into his wet hair. ‘You’re saying I’m irresistible?’
His jaw tightened and she had a feeling he was gritting his teeth. ‘Something like that. If you don’t want to make it worse for me, you could stop wriggling.’
Jessie stilled, but the urge to move her hips was almost painful. ‘We could go back to the beach…’
‘No.’ His mouth drifted over hers with tantalising slowness. ‘Not yet. You wanted foreplay. This is foreplay. If I die in the attempt, you’ll have to resuscitate me.’
‘Mouth to mouth.’
‘You’re already doing that part.’ His hands were tight on her hips, although whether he was holding her against him or preventing her from pressing any closer, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that her entire body was on fire.
‘I think foreplay might be overrated.’
‘Don’t be impatient.’ His tongue traced her lower lip, teasing, coaxing until Jessie’s entire body was burning.
Unable to help herself, she ground her hips against him and he gave a throaty groan and tightened his grip on her thighs.
The contrast of the cool water against her heated skin somehow intensified the whole experience and Jessie moaned with relief as he slid one hand down her back and then lower still.
Tensing with anticipation, the entire focus of her body was centred on that one part of her, and when his skilled, gentle fingers finally touched her there she almost passed out with pleasure.
‘Are you sore after last night?’ His intimate question increased the colour in her cheeks.
‘No.’
‘This time I’m not going to hurt you,’ he promised thickly, and Jessie gave a low moan of desperation.
‘If you don’t do something soon, I might have to hurt you,’ she muttered, and he gave a faint laugh and took her mouth again, his kiss gentle but explicit.
His fingers continued their intimate exploration but it wasn’t enough and Jessie shifted against him, too aroused to control her movements.
She felt his other hand on her thigh and then the bottom half of her bikini dropped away and she felt cool water against the burning centre of her body—felt him hard and ready, against her.
His mouth still on hers, Silvio anchored her hips and held her still, his fingers tight on her trembling thighs as he eased into her gently. He felt smooth and hot and she cried out against his mouth and tried to take him deeper but he held her fast, the strength of his hands preventing any movement on her part.
He seemed determined to torture her, his movements so slow and provocative that Jessie felt as though her entire body was going to explode. The contrast between his powerful heat and the coolness of the water made the experience all the more intense and she moaned his name in quiet desperation.
The only sound was the hiss of the water as it touched the beach and the harsh sound of his breathing as he struggled for control.
‘Can you feel me?’ His voice husky, he drew his mouth from hers just enough to speak. ‘You’re mine now, Jessie. No one else’s.’
She was about to say that she didn’t want to be anyone else’s but then he finally released his iron grip on her hips and allowed her the freedom she craved. The sinuous movement of her hips took him deeper still and her eyes drifted shut because it was no longer possible to think of anything except how he felt inside her. He was silk and steel, raw passion and elemental energy, but most of all he was her man.
The only man she’d ever wanted.
He drove deep inside her, his rhythm smooth and controlled, so skilled that she might have thought he was detached about it if she hadn’t opened her eyes to look at him. One glimpse of his taut features revealed how much it was costing him to hold back and she kissed him hungrily, her tongue seeking his.
‘Silvio—please…’ she begged against his mouth, driven wild by the electric sensations shooting through her body.
Didn’t he feel the same way? Or was he determined to prove that he was capable of control around her?
If that was the case then he obviously lost the battle because he gave a low growl and surged deeper, the movement driving her higher and higher until she was poised on the edge of paradise. Jessie couldn’t breathe or think. She was aware of nothing except what his body was doing to hers. And then he drove into her one more time and she was caught in an explosion of ecstasy, the pleasure so sublime that her mind shut down. As her orgasm fluttered along the length of him she heard him groan and lose control, both of them flying upwards to the same place.
As she gradually returned to earth, Jessie dropped her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his damp flesh. ‘If you let go of me now,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll definitely drown.’
He didn’t answer and a moment later he shifted his grip on her, swung her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her back to the beach.
‘I’m not wearing anything,’ Jessie muttered against his neck, and his hold on her tightened.
‘Get used to it. Apart from public appearances, that’s the way you’re going to be from now on.’
‘Public appearances?’ She thought about the night before. ‘I just don’t feel comfortable with those people, Silvio.’
‘That’s because last night I left you on your own, but that won’t happen again.’ He lowered her onto the blanket and shifted himself over her, his eyes holding hers. ‘Everything is different now. This isn’t for show. This isn’t for anyone else. It’s for us.’
Chapter Eight
WAS this really her life?
The days that followed were so blissful they felt unreal.
Silvio was extraordinarily attentive, and when he wasn’t making love to her he was showing her Sicily, swapping the luxury of his yacht for the luxury of his Maserati as he drove her around the island.
‘You have a car in every port,’ Jessie said dryly, but she was enchanted by what she saw. Almond groves and vineyards, narrow streets with crumbling houses, honeyed by age. Ancient churches, small children playing in the sunshine and a pace of life so slow it was almost standing still.
Absorbing everything around her, Jessie realised that she’d rarely thought beyond her own little world. Places like this hadn’t existed for her, except in the windows of travel agents.
But this was Silvio’s life. He’d travelled all over the world.
The wind whipped her hair across her face and Jessie anchored it with her hand, telling herself that it didn’t matter that she hadn’t even been outside London. ‘It’s beautiful here.’
Silvio drove along the coast road and Jessie leaned her head back against the seat, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face. Each sharp switch in the road took them higher, until the sparkling sea was far beneath them, the dramatic cliffs falling away in an almost vertical drop. And he drove like a native, urging the growling sports car around hairpin bends in what appeared to be a breathless duel with death. Torn between fear and exhilaration, Jessie found herself praying that there were no cars coming in the other direction.
‘Where are we going?’ Over the cliff?
‘I want to show you something.’ A pair of sunglasses obscured the expression in his eyes as he turned onto a narrow dusty road and parked by an old abandoned monastery. Wildflowers clustered in the long grass and a bright gre
en lizard clung to a rock, basking in the hot sun. ‘We have to walk from here. The streets are too narrow for modern transport.’
Jessie released her seat belt, her eyes on the lizard. ‘What did they use as transport when they built the place?’
‘Donkeys.’
Jessie smiled, finding it surprisingly easy to imagine a docile donkey plodding through this sleepy village. ‘It’s very pretty. And quiet.’
‘A large proportion of the population have moved away.’ Silvio took her hand and led her through a maze of streets, stopping in front of an old house. The shutters were closed, the paintwork was tired and it was obvious that no one lived there.
Sensing that it had some significance, Jessie looked at him. ‘Is this what you wanted to show me?’
‘I was born in this house.’
‘You lived here? In this little village?’ Jessie realised she’d never given any thought to where he’d lived the first years of his life, but perhaps that was because her own horizons had been so limited. She sensed that bringing her here was a huge thing for him and she was desperate not to say the wrong thing. ‘When did you move away? You never told me anything about your early childhood. Johnny told me your father was violent—’ She broke off, wishing she hadn’t mentioned that, but he scooped her face into his hands and kissed her gently.
‘There is nothing you cannot say to me, tesoro,’ he said huskily, his mouth lingering on hers. ‘Nothing.’
For a man who was so incredibly private, it was a huge concession and Jessie felt a slow, delicious warmth spread through her body. He trusted her. ‘Is your father still alive?’
‘No.’ His voice hardened and he released her reluctantly, stepping towards the house. ‘I came back here for the first time three years ago. I had a diary of my mother’s and I traced some of the people who had known her.’ He stretched out his hand and rubbed his fingers along the fractured paintwork.
‘You came back after Johnny died?’
‘Yes.’ Silvio glanced up at the windows on the upper floors. ‘I didn’t want to be in London any more.’
‘Because of me.’ Jessie felt a stab of guilt. She’d sent him away. ‘I—I’m sorry.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for. I played a huge part in Johnny’s death.’
‘That isn’t true—you did try and help, I see that now.’ Feeling hideously guilty, Jessie wrapped her arms round herself, shivering despite the sunshine. ‘I was wrong. I was wrong about so many things.’
His eyes on her face, Silvio drew her firmly into his arms. ‘You have forgiven me?’
‘When Johnny died I was devastated—I blamed you because it was easier than blaming myself.’ Jessie faced the truth for the first time. ‘I felt as though I’d let him down. I was angry. It seemed like such a waste. I kept thinking that if I hadn’t gone to work that day, if you hadn’t given him the money—’
‘You did everything that could have been done.’ He was cool, measured—sure—and she wished she had even a fraction of his self-belief.
‘Did I? I don’t know.’ Jessie leaned her head against his chest. ‘I loved him and that stopped me seeing him how he really was. He was weak. When we were taken into care, he was so bitter and angry—I was only five, but he was fifteen. He’d known another life and he resented the fact that he’d lost it.’
‘You’d lost it, too.’
‘I was so much younger. And maybe that isn’t an excuse. Should your childhood dictate who you become? Or is it a matter of personal choice?’
He stroked her hair gently, his touch both reassuring and soothing. ‘It’s probably not as straightforward as that.’
‘Isn’t it? Your background was worse than ours. Our mother was an alcoholic and she wouldn’t have won any awards as best parent, but I think she did her best. Your father was violent. You were brought up with violence. Most people would have carried on down that path. But you left it behind. You chose not to be that person any more. Why? How could you do that when Johnny couldn’t?’
‘Each person is different. And I agree that the past shouldn’t dictate the future. No matter what life you live, we all have choices.’
And he’d made the right choices.
Jessie lifted her head and looked at him. ‘Can you forgive me for blaming you?’
He kissed her gently. ‘There is nothing to forgive. It’s behind us, tesoro. I want you to forget it.’
Jessie wasn’t convinced, but she decided not to pursue it. They’d already spent too much of their relationship talking about Johnny. ‘It’s hard to believe you once lived here. How old were you when you left Sicily? Do you remember it?’
‘I was ten. And, yes, I remember it.’ He moved away from her then, looking up at the house that had been his home. Standing there, he looked every inch Sicilian. Despite the external trappings of wealth, no one would have questioned his origins. He belonged in this wild, beautiful country—his glossy black hair and bronzed skin affirming his Mediterranean heritage. ‘I remember how afraid my mother was as she smuggled me onto the ferry in the middle of the night. And I remember getting ready to defend her from my father if he followed us.’
Shocked, Jessie tried to imagine how it must have felt to be forced to protect your mother from your father. ‘And did he?’
‘I don’t know. My mother had planned an intricate escape route—I doubt he would have caught us even if he’d tried.’
‘You must have been very angry with him.’
‘Yes, although it turned out that living with him had taught me two very useful skills—how to fight and how to keep myself emotionally detached. Both came in very handy when I found myself in a foreign country unable to speak the language.’ Silvio took her hand and led her further up the street into a shaft of sunlight. Above them the sky was a pure, perfect blue without a cloud in sight. It was almost impossible to believe that such a beautiful place could hold such bad memories for him.
‘It must have been awful to leave a country that was your home and go somewhere strange.’
‘My mother picked London because she had a relative there, but there was no Sicilian community. We lived in a tiny flat on the border between two rival gangs. And there was I—ten years old, speaking no English, dark skin. You can imagine.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I was a perfect target.’
Jessie had a vision of how he must have been then—a small boy with olive skin, eyes the colour of black thunder and a temper to match. Angry with his father. Angry with the world. ‘I can imagine who came off worse. You must have surprised them.’
‘Yes, I think it came as a bit of a shock. I fought so fiercely that from then on everyone wanted to be on my side.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ Jessie said dryly, watching as two stray cats approached them hopefully. They were thin and hungry looking and somehow they made her think of Silvio. He’d been on his own on the streets, fighting for survival. Thinking how far he’d come filled her with awe. ‘I don’t know how you got yourself out of that situation. How did you even imagine that there was a different life out there?’
‘My life acted as a catalyst.’ Still holding her hand, he strolled back down the street towards the car, walking in the ribbon of shade created by the houses. ‘I was fiercely determined to escape and create something different.’
Jessie thought of the yacht. The helicopter. The supercar. ‘Well, you certainly got yourself something different. Do you ever find it difficult living this new life of yours?’ She kept her voice casual. ‘Do you ever feel out of place?’
‘Never. If anything, I feel more at home in this life than I did in the other.’ Confident and sure of himself, Silvio looked every inch the billionaire as he led her back to the Maserati. A crowd of children had gathered around it and Silvio spoke to them in Italian. They laughed and fell back, watching with envy as this sleek, successful man slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
As they left the village behind, Jessie stared out of the window. ‘You must have found it hard
, coming back to rescue me,’ she murmured. ‘You thought you’d left all that behind.’
‘I have left it behind.’ The muscles of his forearm flexed as he shifted gears. ‘It was just a fleeting visit.’
Jessie didn’t understand why she found his words upsetting. He was rejecting that life, not her. But it was hard not to dissect every word he said and examine it in minute detail.
Wasn’t she part of what he was so determined to leave behind?
Didn’t she represent the life he’d turned his back on?
‘Are you hungry?’ He pulled up in a small fishing village and parked the car. ‘I know a fantastic restaurant here.’
‘Fantastic?’ Fresh from her latest bombardment of insecurity, Jessie rubbed her hands over the pretty cotton skirt that she’d worn for the trip. ‘I’m not really dressed for anywhere smart—I don’t want to embarrass you…’
Silvio frowned sharply. ‘I’ve already told you, you never embarrass me. And it isn’t smart in the sense that you mean—it’s the food that’s incredible. All the locals eat here.’
The waiter showed them to a table right by the water and Jessie could see fish darting just under the surface, playing hide and seek among the rocks. The painted wooden chairs were simple and a surreptitious glance around her showed her that everyone else was casually dressed.
‘There’s no menu.’ He lifted a jug and poured wine into her glass. ‘You’re given whatever the chef has prepared.’
And it was delicious. As Jessie savoured the best fish she’d ever tasted, she started to relax. Silvio talked about some of the big projects he was working on and she tried to look as though having a conversation about multi-million-pound developments was something she did every day, whilst in reality it was hard not to gape at him and say ‘How much?’
And all the time she was agonisingly conscious of every move he made, from the flick of his lean, bronzed fingers as he tore the bread to the flex of his shoulders as he reached across to put something on her plate.
He was breathtakingly handsome and unapologetically male, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
