Never Underestimate a Caffarelli

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  She made little murmuring sounds of pleasure as he explored her mouth. But he had to keep a firm lid on his response. He was fully erect and aching to let go but she was nowhere near ready for him. He sensed it in the subtle ways she moved, jerking back, shifting, like a shying horse facing a jump that was too high.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ He stroked a finger down the curve of her cheek. ‘Trust me, Lily.’

  She gave him a tentative smile that was little more than a tiny flutter of her lips. ‘I trust you.’

  ‘If you want to stop at any point, then you just have to tell me.’

  ‘I don’t want you to stop.’ She moved her pelvis against his. It was a subtle movement, probably more instinctive than conscious, but it caused a raging inferno to roar through his veins. ‘I want you to make love to me.’

  He moved a gentle hand over her breast. It fitted his palm perfectly, her nipple pressing against his flesh as if in search of his touch. He wanted to feel her skin on skin, to feel her silky heat against his, to feel the satin of her flesh against the rough rasp of his.

  He slid a hand under her top, gauging her reaction, letting her dictate the terms, but if anything she encouraged his exploration. She arched her spine like a cat so her breasts would be in closer contact with his hands.

  He lowered his mouth to the tight pink nubs of her nipples he’d exposed, savouring each one in turn. She bucked and writhed as he tantalised her senses, her hands grasping his head, her fingers digging into his scalp as he rolled his tongue over and around her sensitive flesh.

  She suddenly eased back from him. ‘Should I get, um, undressed?’

  She looked so adorably out of her depth. He was used to women shrugging their clothes off before he got them through the door. He was used to women showing off their assets in clinging, revealing clothing that left nothing to the imagination. He was used to women telling him what they wanted and going out to get it, no holds barred.

  Touch here. This hard. This slow; this fast.

  It was so damned mechanical.

  Lily Archer looked up at him with those big dark blue eyes and made him feel...like a man.

  ‘I think that’s my job.’ His voice sounded like a croak. His hands felt like a fumbling teenager’s on his first date. He peeled away her top, revealing her slim chest, small, pert breasts and her amazing abs and his breath stalled in his throat. ‘Wow.’

  She gave him a sheepish look. ‘They look bigger when I’m wearing a push-up bra. It’s sort of like false advertising.’

  Raoul smiled as he laid a hand on the flat plane of her abdomen. ‘Your breasts are beautiful.’

  She shuddered under his touch. ‘I like your hands. They’re...gentle.’

  ‘I like your body.’ He stroked his hand down the length of her cotton-trouser-clad thigh.

  Her gaze fell away from his. ‘It’s ugly.’

  He pushed her chin up so her eyes met his again. ‘It’s not ugly. It’s who you are now. You can’t change it even if you wanted to.’

  She gave him a frustrated, anguished look. ‘I don’t want to be like this. I wish I could get rid of my scars. It’s not who I am now. I want to move on. I hate that I have this mark of who I was back then permanently etched on my body like a tattoo. I’m not that girl any more. I just got lost for a while and I’ve had to pay for it ever since.’

  Raoul knew exactly what she was feeling. He wanted to move on, too. He didn’t want to be trapped in his body, in a body that didn’t represent him as a person, as a man. But what other choice did he have? What choice did she have? They were both trapped.

  He brushed back her hair from her forehead. ‘Do you think I want to live in my body the way it is? I lie awake at night terrified that this might be as good as it ever gets. You have some scars. I know that’s hard to deal with, but they’re only as permanent as you allow them to be.’

  Wasn’t there something in that he should be taking on board?

  ‘I want to be normal.’

  ‘You are normal.’ His body registered just how normal by the way it was responding to hers. Hard, urgent, desperate.

  She traced a fingertip over his bottom lip. ‘Make me feel normal. Make me forget about anything but what’s here and now.’

  What was here and now was how wonderful, how magical her mouth felt beneath his. He gathered her close, delighting in the feel of her moulding herself to him as if she had been looking for him all of her life. There were no awkward shifts or adjustments. She moved into him like a key fitting into a tricky lock.

  It felt so good to have her that close. Close enough to feel the contours of her body against his. He felt a sense of rightness that he had never felt before.

  He tried to push the thought aside but it kept coming back, niggling at him, jostling him, urging him like an obsessed terrier dropping a tennis ball at its handler’s feet.

  He wanted this feeling to last.

  * * *

  Lily felt his hands moving over her so tenderly, so carefully. He was taking his time, peeling away her clothes piece by piece, kissing each part of her he exposed in warm, soft-as-air caresses that made her spine tingle like bubbles in a glass. He kissed each and every scar on her arms, his mouth and lips spreading a pathway of heat through her body.

  He helped her get out of her cotton trousers, his mouth moving down her stomach, his tongue taking a little dip in the tiny pool of her belly button before coming to the top of her knickers.

  She stiffened, her stomach churning. Was he thinking how awful the tops of her legs looked compared to his ex-fiancée’s? She bet Clarissa Moncrieff’s gorgeous long cellulite-free legs didn’t have a single blemish on them. She bet his ex had waxed and exfoliated and spray-tanned regularly. Was he thinking how plain and sensible Lily’s chain-store underwear was? Any moment now he would pull back in revulsion, make some excuse that this couldn’t continue. Oh, God! Why had she asked him to make love to her? It was so desperate and gauche of her.

  ‘Hey, hey, hey.’ His voice was a soft, deep, soothing rumble, his hand gentle and steadying as it came to rest on her stomach. ‘You’re beautiful. I mean it, Lily. So very natural and beautiful.’

  Her breath caught in her chest as he began stroking her thighs in long, smooth gentle caresses that made her tense muscles slowly relax. She stopped breathing altogether when he put his mouth to her left thigh, his lips moving over her scarred flesh like the brush of a teasing feather.

  He did the same to her right thigh, moving tantalisingly close to the moist, swollen, pulsing heart of her. ‘I want... I want...’ She didn’t know how to ask for the release she craved. She had never felt the need building quite like this before. It was rising to a crescendo in her body, every nerve tensing and twitching in feverish anticipation.

  He stroked a lazy finger down the cotton-covered seam of her body. Close but not close enough. She gave a little whimper and arched her spine. ‘I want you.’

  He peeled away her knickers and traced her seam again. It made her gasp to feel the thickness of his finger against her moist heat. He brought his mouth to her, gently tasting her essence, teasing her until she was grasping his head like a drowning person with a rescuer. The sensations started as a ripple and then came smashing over her in a series of waves. She cried out in a breathless, gasping sobs, shaken to the core of her being by the out-of-control passion—not someone else’s, but her own.

  ‘You’re very good at this.’ Did she sound unsophisticated?

  He gave her a smouldering smile. ‘So are you.’

  Lily shyly stroked a hand over his chest. Somehow while he had been kissing her she had managed to undo his shirt buttons but he was still fully clothed. Had he done that deliberately, to stop her from being overwhelmed by seeing his naked body? ‘I want to touch you...’

  He covered her hand with one
of his. ‘It might have to wait for some other time.’

  Some other time?

  Her stomach did that butter-churn thing again. He didn’t want to make love to her? Was she so hideous?

  But surely he wanted her? She’d felt his erection. She could still feel it pressing against her right thigh.

  He doesn’t want you. He wants his ex. His beautiful, perfect ex.

  Lily slipped her hand out from under his and started to hunt for her clothes. ‘Right; well, then. I wouldn’t want to force you or anything. God, no; that would be ridiculously ironic, don’t you think?’

  ‘I don’t have a condom.’

  She stopped wrestling herself back into her trousers to look at him. ‘Oh...’

  He gave her a rueful look. ‘I don’t think Dominique would have packed one in the picnic basket, do you?’

  She arched her brows cynically. ‘I don’t know. I’m sure if you’d asked her to she would have.’

  He frowned at her. ‘You think that’s why I set up this picnic?’

  ‘It was a way of riding two horses with one jockey, so to speak. You got me back in the saddle—both of them.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Lily.’ He raked a hand through his hair, making it look even more tousled. ‘I didn’t have any intention of sleeping with you.’

  ‘You didn’t sleep with me.’ She threw him a flinty look. ‘You serviced me.’

  His mouth went into a tense line. ‘If you think I’m the sort of man who would have sex with a vulnerable young woman without using a condom then you’re even more—’

  ‘What?’ she flashed back before he could finish his sentence. ‘Screwed up? Nutty? Crazy?’

  His jaw moved in an out as if he was trying to control his temper. ‘Stop putting words in my mouth.’

  ‘It’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’ She stuffed her feet back in her shoes. ‘It’s what everyone thinks when they see my legs and arms.’ She sent him another fiery glare. ‘And, just for the record, I am not vulnerable.’

  ‘Yes, you are. You’re vulnerable and scared and you won’t let anyone get close enough to help you.’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ she threw back.

  ‘I let you in, didn’t I?’

  ‘Grudgingly.’

  There was a short, tense silence.

  ‘You have helped me, Lily. You’ve helped me a lot.’

  Lily felt her anger dissipating at his gruff tone. ‘I have?’

  ‘I think you’re right about Rafe’s wedding.’ His mouth twisted resignedly. ‘I need to be there, chair or no chair.’

  She felt a wave of unexpected emotion swamp her. She blinked a couple of times to stop the tears that were threatening to spill. If nothing else, she had achieved what his brother had paid her for. Raoul was going to go to the wedding. It would be a big step for him to be out in public but it was an important one. ‘I’m so glad, for you, for Rafe and Poppy.’

  ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s my place to barge in on a—’

  ‘I want you there.’ His tone had a thread of steel to it. ‘You’re my physical therapist. I might need you to massage a tight muscle or stroke my ego or something.’

  ‘Your ego?’

  ‘Will you do it?’

  She caught the inside of her mouth with her teeth. A family wedding. It was so...so personal. She would have to witness other people experiencing what she most desperately wanted for herself: love, commitment and a happy future. ‘I don’t know....’

  ‘It’s another ten days away. You have plenty of time to make up your mind.’

  Lily wondered if he were asking her to accompany him for other reasons. It would be a very public gathering. There would be press everywhere. No doubt there would be speculation about his broken engagement. Was he looking for a way to divert public attention, having her pose as his stand-in date? ‘I have to go back to London straight after. I have clients booked in. There’s a waiting list.’

  ‘I won’t keep you longer than the month. After the wedding, you are free to leave.’

  His words made her heart suddenly contract. He hadn’t wanted her here in the first place. Why was she disappointed he was already planning for her departure?

  ‘OK. Fine. Good.’

  ‘We should do something about this food Dominique has prepared,’ he said. ‘She might not have packed condoms, but there is just about everything else inside this pack.’

  Lily sat down on the blanket beside him. She couldn’t think of a time when she had felt less like eating. She made a token effort but later she couldn’t recall what she ate. The conversation was stilted. Awkward. She sensed Raoul couldn’t wait for the evening to be over. Even the horses seemed to pick up on the restless mood. They twitched their tails and pricked their ears at the slightest sound.

  Finally it was time to leave.

  She made an attempt to pack up the picnic basket but Raoul intercepted her. ‘Leave it. Etienne will take it back to the château later.’

  ‘Do you need a hand to get back on your—?’

  He cut her off with a look. ‘I’ll be fine. Take Mardi back to the stables. One of the other stable hands will unsaddle her for you. I’ll wait here for Etienne.’

  * * *

  Raoul was drowning. The water was over his head. His limbs were dead. His lungs were exploding. He thrashed against the restraint of the water but it didn’t feel like water. It felt like fabric. He punched it away and he heard a choked-off cry.

  He froze.

  Woke up. Blinked. Realised he was in his bedroom and that Lily was sitting on the edge of his bed clutching her chin, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. ‘Did I hurt you?’ His insides turned to gravy. ‘Tell me I didn’t hurt you.’

  ‘You didn’t.’ She dropped her hand from her face. ‘Not really.’

  He could see the red mark where his hand had glanced against her chin. He touched it gently with his finger. ‘I’m sorry. I sometimes have terrible nightmares. I should’ve warned you.’

  ‘I heard you shouting.’

  Somehow his finger had gone from her chin to the soft pillow of her lower lip. ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘I wasn’t asleep.’

  His gaze locked on hers. She looked so young and so...so unpretentious. Unprepared. Natural. Her hair was free about her shoulders. It smelt of honeysuckle and jasmine, familiar, homely yet exotic. He traced her top lip and then her bottom lip with his finger. ‘Why weren’t you able to sleep?’

  Her eyes fell away from his. ‘Just one of those nights, I guess...’

  ‘I was having one of those myself.’

  Her eyes came back to his. ‘Can I get you a drink or something? Milk? Hot chocolate? Cocoa?’

  ‘No.’ He moved his thumb over her lip again. ‘Thanks.’

  Her lips shifted in an uncertain-looking on-off smile. ‘I guess I should let you get back to bed...’

  ‘Stay.’

  She blinked a couple of times. ‘Stay?’

  ‘Talk to me. Keep me company. Distract me.’

  She rolled her lips together. ‘I don’t think that’s part of my job description...’

  ‘I don’t want you to stay here as my physical therapist.’ He held her gaze with his. ‘Stay for another reason.’

  The tip of her tongue made a nervous dart out over her lips. ‘What other reason could there be?’

  He brought her closer, his mouth coming down to within a breath of hers. ‘Think of one.’ And then he covered her mouth with his.

  * * *

  It was a very good reason. The best possible reason. Lily couldn’t think of any better reason to be in his bedroom and in his arms being kissed so soundly other than that it was exactly where she wanted to be.<
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  His arms gathered her close to his body, his mouth moving on hers with devastatingly erotic expertise. His tongue slid into her mouth, stroking against hers, teasing it into duelling with his. Her belly flipped like a pancake as he deepened the kiss even further.

  He pressed her backwards on the bed, his weight supported by his elbows, his lips and tongue working their magic on hers. ‘You taste so damn good,’ he groaned against her mouth.

  Lily kissed him back with all the passion that had been ignited that evening of the picnic. It had been ignited from the first moment she had met him—that instant spark of attraction, that magnetic pull, that irresistible lure of polar opposites.

  The need she felt for him was a throbbing ache that pulsed between her legs. She had never been more aware of her body. He had awakened the dormant sensations, making them explode like fireworks in front of a raw flame.

  His hands moved over her, shaping her breasts, touching her, tantalising her with the promise of more. Her nipples were tight and sensitive, her flesh hungry for the hot, wet swirl of his tongue and the sexy graze of his teeth.

  She gave a gasp as he pushed up her pyjama top, his hands warm and sure on her body. She shivered as his mouth closed over her nipple, the sucking motion making every hair on her head lift up at the roots. He was gentle yet determined, drawing from her a response she had not thought she was capable of giving. Her body writhed beneath his, looking for more connection, for flesh on flesh, for satiation.

  ‘I don’t want to rush you,’ he said.

  ‘You’re not rushing me.’ She kissed him, once, twice, three times. ‘I want this. I want you.’

  He smiled against her lips. ‘At least this time I’m a bit better prepared.’

  ‘Down at the lake... I thought you didn’t want me.’

  He pulled back to look down at her. ‘How could you possibly think that?’

  Lily looked at a point of stubble on his chin rather than meet his eyes. ‘I thought it must be because of my scars. I guess I’m not used to men who are responsible enough to stop and think about using protection.’