by BETH KERY
She hadn’t forgotten the practical reason for her and Vanni’s entering into the agreement. It was just that under the influence of the romance and excitement of the French Riviera and Vanni’s masterful lovemaking—and her own foolishness—it was easy to mask the truth. It was convenient to escape it.
Something she was infamous for doing, Emma realized with a sinking feeling.
Now she’d allowed things to progress to the point where she’d told Vanni she was falling in love with him. His response to her confession had been fierce and sweet and had swept her off her feet completely.
But he’d never returned the words. Why had it been so easy while in his addictive presence to not focus on that glaring fact?
She blinked when Michelle touched her arm. “I meant to make you feel better,” Michelle said in a hushed tone. “But from that look on your face, I’ve made things worse.”
“No. No you haven’t. Thank you for saying what you did.”
Michelle didn’t look convinced, but at that point a roar went up in the distance. The announcer exclaimed excitedly in French.
“Niki just took the lead on the mountain turn,” Dean yelled as the crowd in the main arena began to cheer.
Michelle and she turned their total focus back to the race. By the time the fortieth lap was complete, one of the NASCAR champions had spun out in a frightening, fiery crash at the harrowing harbor turn, and the caution flag had gone up, slowing down the race considerably. Miraculously, the driver escaped from the crash unscathed. Meanwhile, Joe Hill had come back fighting strong for the Americans, nudging out Mario Acarde and gaining on Niki. Michelle, Dean, and she went to get a plate of food, but Emma could barely eat it, the danger level of the competition was growing so fierce. The announcer had taken to yelling nonstop into the microphone as drivers took greater and greater risks to gain supremacy on the road.
“Can I ask you something?” Emma asked Michelle during one of the more relatively placid moments in the race. Michelle nodded. “Did Vera leave the French Riviera because I was coming?”
Michelle’s friendly face collapsed slightly. “Did someone tell you that?”
“No,” Emma said. “But she did, didn’t she? Leave as a sort of protest to my coming?” Emma saw her answer on Michelle’s honest face.
“Vera can be very idiosyncratic at times, especially when it comes to Vanni,” Michelle said apologetically. “She imagines herself as a mother figure to him, although I’ve never noticed Vanni reciprocating the sentiment. To be honest, I’ve always thought he’s so forbearing when it comes to her because she resembles his mother a bit, and he loved his mother so much.”
Emma nodded in agreement. “I just don’t understand why Vera hates me so much.”
Michelle shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? She sees you as a potential threat to her comfortable little world. I’m afraid Vera’s feelings for Vanni’s father complicate things even further.” Emma gave her a puzzled glance. What did that mean? Michelle waved her hand. “Trust me, the internal workings of my sister-in-law’s mind are not worth thinking about. I won’t be so cruel as to call her delusional, but she gets pretty close to that description. She’s an odd one, but relatively harmless.”
Emma wasn’t sure she agreed, but she didn’t think it was worth pursuing at the moment. The end of the race was fast approaching, and just like every spectator for miles, it captured her full attention. The fierce competition escalated to a barely controlled desperation as the drivers took the final lap. A communal gasp went up to the heavens as Niki, Mario, and Joe Hill seemed to fall straight down a steep mountain pass, and Joe maneuvered around Mario on the bottom turn in a breathtaking feat of pure skill and daring. Now he was gaining on Niki as the cars plunged toward the main arena and the finish line.
Emma stood like everyone in the arena, the roar of the engines growing louder by the second making her skin tingle with mounting excitement. The sound was deafening as the frontrunners stormed into the arena. Her vision obscured by people’s heads and waving flags, Emma turned the monitor and watched the finish there, holding her breath. There didn’t appear to be an inch difference between the Montand car and Joe Hill’s. Just yards before the finish line, however, Niki surged. Still, Emma wasn’t sure who had won, it’d been so close when they crossed. Above all the wild shouting and screaming, she heard the announcer yell Niki’s name. Emma shouted triumphantly, turning and hugging Michelle, both of them jumping up and down. Then Dean was hugging her, too.
One thing was for certain, Emma thought later as she watched Niki do his victory lap. She could understand why Vanni loved the sport so much.
Chapter Thirty-six
Emma had been flushed with excitement and beaming when Vanni arrived back at the box to claim her for the award ceremony. She’d been unusually quiet on the car ride home, however, and Vanni thought he knew why.
They’d stayed to drink champagne with Niki, the Montand crew, and friends and family at a private room on the arena grounds. After taking one look at Emma, whose expression appeared strained and her face pale, he’d bowed out for the celebratory dinner at a local seaside resort. He’d had enough of crowds and champagne and the hoopla for an entire year. Besides, despite the fact that Emma had enthusiastically said she’d go if he liked, she looked a little relieved when he said he’d rather have dinner alone with her at the empty villa.
He brought the car to a halt in La Mer’s circular back drive and looked over at Emma.
“I’m sorry she came,” he said simply. “I was shocked to see her sitting next to you.”
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it,” she assured.
He reached over and grabbed her hand. She folded her fingers into his. Why did the way she curled up to him always strike him as so much sweeter than when anyone before had done it? “She doesn’t mean anything to me. You know that, right?”
She met his stare. “I know that firsthand. I was there, remember?” she asked softly.
He stiffened. Emma was right there, holding his hand. So why did he have the feeling she was drifting away from him? His gaze narrowed on her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She must have noticed his doubtful expression. “I’m just really tired. I . . . I started my period this afternoon,” she said, grimacing slightly, her pale cheeks coloring. She gave him a reluctant glance. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Biology?” he asked, relieved that her being out of sorts wasn’t associated with something he could have controlled but hadn’t. She gave him a rueful smile. “Do you have difficult periods?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I just get tired and headachy on the first day. I’m usually okay by the second.”
He squeezed her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. How about a hot bath and a glass of wine?”
“Make it tea and it sounds like heaven.”
* * *
She padded barefoot out of the bathroom, wearing a short, pale blue button-up nightgown, pausing when she saw Vanni standing next to the bed. He folded back the sheet and comforter and motioned for her to get in.
“You’re being very sweet. I’m not an invalid, you know,” Emma told him amusedly. She’d thought the bath and cup of chamomile had made her sleepy until she walked into the bedroom and saw Vanni. It appeared he’d showered in the other bathroom. He wore a pair of black cotton lounging pants that hung low on his trim hips and a simple white T-shirt. He was barefoot. The hair around his neck was still damp.
Her entire body perked into instant awareness. He looked good enough to eat.
“I don’t think you’re an invalid. It wouldn’t hurt to rest, though. And for once, we have nothing else to do. For a whole week,” he added with a significant glance as she sat in the bed.
“A whole week. Amazing,” Emma murmured, staring out the open French doors to the sea in the distance. I
t was evening, and a cool breeze made the room very comfortable and ruffled the potted flowers on the terrace. She’d thought a lot about the concerns Astrid’s appearance had reawakened in her at the race. No matter how she dressed things up, she and Astrid were definitely in similar situations when it came to Vanni. The only difference was that Emma had his attention now. There would be someone else to follow her. She’d decided the wise thing would be to bail on this whole thing now, before she fell even further in love with him.
But the simple matter was, she wasn’t wise when it came to him. If she only had days to live, she wouldn’t hasten death. She’d cherish and savor every second she had.
It was the same for her in this thing with Vanni.
She turned toward him. “I’ll lie down for a bit if you come with me.”
“I was planning on it.”
She smiled at that and scooted over for him. After a moment, he spooned her from behind beneath the soft cotton sheet as both of them stared out at the terrace and the sea beyond.
“Are you cramping?” he asked quietly, opening his hand at her lower belly and stroking her soothingly. It felt sublime.
“Not much,” she said, caressing his forearm. She was being honest. She wasn’t so much cramping as she was suffering from a constricted, slightly achy feeling at her core. After several minutes, however, his stroking hand close to her pelvis and his long, hard body pressed so close to her backside evoked a different feeling than comfort. A thick, warm feeling settled in her sex. She felt his cock twitch against her backside and her stroking hand stilled.
“Was it a good day for you, Vanni?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“No. It was the best,” he said, continuing to stroke her with his magical hand. She wriggled her hips slightly.
“That feels good,” she said in a tight voice.
“Does it?” he asked, and she heard the pointedness of his tone.
“Very,” she said, her head still turned away from him. “I’m sorry about starting my period. Bad timing. Your best day, and all,” she finished on a hesitant whisper.
“Today isn’t going to be ruined by something like that. Impossible.”
Her heart seemed to grow beyond its space in her chest. She turned her chin toward him. His elbow was bent and his head propped against his hand. Evening whiskers darkened his jaw. He looked down at her with a lambent stare, and she felt his cock swell behind the thin fabric of their clothing. Her lips parted to ask him . . . what, exactly? But then he was there, his mouth moving coaxingly over hers, shaping their flesh together, his tongue penetrating her lips.
“Do you want to make love?” she whispered when he lifted his head a moment later.
“Of course,” he said, as if that was a foregone conclusion. He studied her face for a moment. “If you do.”
“I do, but . . .”
His brow quirked in slight puzzlement when she faded off, but then understanding dawned. He began to stroke her again on the strip of skin just above her mons. She felt her clit pinch in acute arousal.
“I see. You usually don’t have sex when you’re on your period,” he said quietly.
“No. I don’t think most women want to, do they?” Emma asked, glad he’d put her dilemma into words. He gave her a bland expression. She laughed softly. “Oh, I see. Most women do with you.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he said soberly.
“What did you mean then?” she asked, not dissuaded from her initial belief—what woman wouldn’t want him, even on her deathbed?—but she was still curious.
“I meant,” he said, continuing to watch her as he lifted the hem of her nightgown, “that there are certain things that happen to a woman’s body when she’s on her period. If she feels up to it, it’s very good to take advantage of those things. Are you wearing a tampon?” he asked so matter-of-factly, she blinked. She nodded. Her eyes widened and she gasped when he burrowed a finger between her labia and began to rub and press on the sensitive flesh. “Do you feel that?” he murmured. “There’s increased blood flow to this area during your period. Climaxes can be much more powerful and frequent. Plus, orgasms can help alleviate the discomfort of cramps.”
“Really?” she managed because he was continuing to rub her. She bit her lip and flexed her hips slightly, feeling his erection, now full and heavy next to her ass. “Never mind,” she gasped as pleasure and arousal inundated her. “I see what you mean.”
A smile shadowed his lips. “Your body is so sensitive. I’ve been looking forward to this . . . to seeing whether or not you’d become even more sensitive during this time.”
She opened her mouth to exclaim in disbelief over the idea he’d been looking forward to her period, but then he pressed harder with his rubbing finger and all she got out was a moan. Heat rushed into her cheeks. Her nipples prickled against the fabric of her gown. His touch had a charge to it tonight—forbidden and taboo. She’d never even masturbated when she was on her period, let alone allowed a man to pleasure her during it. God. What had she been missing out on?
“I can see you’re going to exceed my expectations, as usual,” he rasped, his gaze flickering over her breasts, before his mouth closed on hers. She came a moment later while he kissed her deeply, shuddering against his hard, primed body.
“There,” he said quietly as her trembling eased. “Nice?”
“So nice,” she panted, smiling slightly because he continued to play her sensitive clit, and it was abundantly clear to both of them how creamy she’d become in the cleft between her labia.
“Would you like to feel nice again?” he asked, holding her stare.
“Yes,” she mouthed wordlessly.
“I thought so,” he replied with a small smile. Like the sea, the muted evening light was turning his eyes into a smoky blue. She winced slightly at the deprivation when he removed his hand from her panties. “Let’s just unbutton this,” he said calmly. His long fingers moved down her chest, unfastening her gown to her above her belly button. He peeled back the fabric, exposing her breasts. His nostrils flared slightly as he looked down at her, and she felt that telltale leap of his cock against her ass. She circled her bottom against him, and she saw a muscle jump in her cheek.
“Would you like to be spanked?” he asked.
She stilled her wiggling, stunned by his serious, intent question. She just stared at him a moment
“No,” she lied.
One dark brow rose in a doubtful expression, but he didn’t argue. He just slid his hand beneath her underwear again and began to rub her well-lubricated clit. She whimpered as heat and sensation rushed through her anew. He lowered his head and spoke near her ear. “Because the next time you wiggle your ass against my cock like that, I’m going to consider it an invitation.” Her hips twitched at the dark promise. His head started up, but she stilled herself at the last moment. He gave her an amused look of warning.
“How does it feel?” he asked a moment later, ungluing his gaze from her naked breasts.
“It burns so . . . good,” she gasped. Her clit had never sizzled like this before. The soles of her feet started to heat in sympathy to his touch on her sex. “You were right about the advantages. But what about you?”
“What about me?” he asked, his mouth hard as he stared at her breasts fixedly. Her nipples prickled at the delicious contrast of the cool breeze feathering across the sensitive crests and his hot stare.
“Don’t you want to come, too?” she asked in a strangled voice. She was restraining herself mightily not to grind her ass against his flagrantly swollen cock.
“Yes,” he replied in a hard voice. “But not until we explore the advantages more. Squeeze one of your breasts,” he bit out.
She was surprised by the taut demand, but didn’t hesitate. She cupped her breast from below and massaged it, watching his expression darken. Her skin felt surprisingly soft in her ha
nd, silky and smooth.
“Hold it up for me,” he said.
The words sent a hot thrill through her. She burned. Everywhere. She longed to bob her hips against his hand, but thought he might consider that a tease to his cock. She cupped her breast from below and lifted the firm flesh as if in offering. His cock batted against her ass. She held her breath when she saw the feral flash in his eyes, and then his mouth enclosing her nipple, giving it a firm, hot suck. It was too much. She bobbed her hips up and down, circling against his straining erection and wicked, stirring finger, and exploded again in splendid climax.
She opened her eyes a moment later when she felt his mouth unclamp from her nipple. He stared down at her with a rigid expression, his finger still moving subtly against her slick clit, sending an occasional post-orgasmic shiver through her. Slowly, he withdrew his hand and drew her panties down to her thighs, holding her stare the whole while. His hand skimmed over her naked hip, and she felt the moistness of his finger. He held her steady and ground his cock against her ass. She bit her lip and whimpered at the feeling of his heavy, engorged flesh.
“I’m going to have to give you a little spanking, Emma.”
She shivered at the impact of his low, gruff threat.
“I know,” she whispered.
“Look out at the sea or I won’t be able to do it,” he said, white teeth flashing in a restrained snarl.
She turned her head, staring out the terrace doors onto the gently falling summer night. He moved back slightly. She missed the feeling of his pressing, throbbing cock. His hand skimmed across her bottom, caressing her. She held her breath in anticipation. His hand lifted and fell, lifted and fell, giving her upper buttock two crisp smacks, the cracking sound of flesh against flesh ringing out in the air. He paused and rubbed the stinging skin.
