Matteo became aware of the hardness of the overstuffed seat which made him feel as if he were sitting on spirals of iron. ‘You honestly think I’m going to spend the night sitting in this damned chair?’
She looked at him uncertainly. ‘You want me to take the chair?’
‘And keep me awake all night while you shift around trying to get comfortable? No. I do not. I’ll tell you exactly what’s going to happen, cara mia. We’re going to share that bed as the nice lady suggested. But don’t worry, I will break the habit of a lifetime by not sleeping naked and you can keep the sweater on. Capisci? And you can rest assured that you’ll be safe from my intentions because I don’t find you in the least bit attractive.’
Which wasn’t exactly true—but why make a grim situation even worse than it already was?
He stood up and as he began to undo the belt of his trousers, he saw her lips fall open. ‘Better close those big blue eyes,’ he suggested silkily, a flicker of amusement curving his lips as he watched all the colour drain from her cheeks. ‘At least until I’m safely underneath the covers.’
CHAPTER THREE
KEIRA LAY IN the darkness nudging her tongue over lips which felt as dry as if she’d been running a marathon. She’d tried everything. Breathing deeply. Counting backwards from a thousand. Relaxing her muscles from the toes up. But up until now nothing had worked and all she could think about was the man in bed beside her. Matteo Valenti. In bed beside her. She had to keep silently repeating it to herself to remind herself of the sheer impossibility of the situation—as well as the undeniable temptation which was fizzing over her.
Sheer animal warmth radiated from his powerful frame, making her want to squirm with an odd kind of frustration. She kept wanting to fidget but she forced herself to lie as still as possible, terrified of waking him up. She kept telling herself that she’d been up since six that morning and should be exhausted, but the more she reached out for sleep, the more it eluded her.
Was it because that unwilling glimpse of his body as he was about to climb into bed had reinforced all the fantasies she’d been trying not to have? And yes, he’d covered up with a T-shirt and a pair of silky boxers—but they did nothing to detract from his hard-packed abdomen and hair-roughened legs. Each time she closed her eyes she could picture all that hard, honed muscle and a wave of hunger shivered over her body, leaving her almost breathless with desire.
The sounds coming from downstairs didn’t help. The dinner which Mary had mentioned was in full flow and bothering her in ways she’d prefer not to think about. She could hear squeals of excitement above the chatter and, later, the heartbreaking strains of children’s voices as they started singing carols. She could picture them all by a roaring log fire with red candles burning on the mantle above, just like on the front of a Christmas card, and Keira felt a wave of wistfulness overwhelm her because she’d never had that.
‘Can’t sleep?’ The Italian’s silky voice penetrated her spinning thoughts and she could tell from the shifting weight on the mattress that Matteo Valenti had turned his head to talk to her.
Keira swallowed. Should she pretend to be asleep? But what would be the point of that? She suspected he would see through her ruse immediately—and wasn’t it a bit of a relief not to have to keep still any more? ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Can’t you?’
He gave a short laugh. ‘I wasn’t expecting to.’
‘Why not?’
His voice dipped. ‘I suspect you know exactly why not. It’s a somewhat unusual situation to be sharing a bed with an attractive woman and having to behave in such a chaste manner.’
Keira was glad of the darkness which hid her sudden flush of pleasure. Had the gorgeous and arrogant Matteo Valenti actually called her attractive? And was he really implying that he was having difficulty keeping his hands off her? Of course, he might only be saying it to be polite—but he hadn’t exactly been the model of politeness up until now, had he?
‘I thought you said you didn’t find me attractive.’
‘That’s what I was trying to convince myself.’
In the darkness, she gave a smile of pleasure. ‘I could go downstairs and see if I could get us some more tea.’
‘Please.’ He groaned. ‘No more tea.’
‘Then I guess we’ll have to resign ourselves to a sleepless night.’ She plumped up her pillow and sighed as she collapsed back against it. ‘Unless you’ve got a better suggestion?’
Matteo gave a frustrated smile because her question sounded genuine. She wasn’t asking it in such a way which demanded he lean over and give her the answer with his lips. Just as she wasn’t accidentally brushing one of those pretty little legs against his and tantalising him with her touch. He swallowed. Not that her virtuous attitude made any difference because he’d been hard from the moment he’d first slipped beneath the covers, and he was rock-hard now. Hard for a woman with terrible hair whose incompetence was responsible for him being marooned in this hellhole in the first place! A different kind of frustration washed over him as the lumpy mattress dug into his back until he reminded himself that apportioning blame would serve little purpose.
‘I guess we could talk,’ he said.
‘What about?’
‘What do women like best to talk about?’ he questioned sardonically. ‘You could tell me something about yourself.’
‘And what good will that do?’
‘Probably send me off to sleep,’ he admitted.
He could hear her give a little snort of laughter. ‘You do say some outrageous things, Mr Valenti.’
‘Guilty. And I thought we agreed on Matteo—at least while we’re in bed together.’ He smiled as he heard her muffled gasp of outrage. ‘Tell me how you plan to spend Christmas—isn’t that what everyone asks at this time of year?’
Beneath the duvet, Keira flexed and unflexed her fingers, thinking that of all the questions he could have asked, that was the one she least felt like answering. Why hadn’t he asked her about cars so she could have dazzled him with her mechanical knowledge? Or told him about her pipedream of one day being able to restore beautiful vintage cars, even though realistically that was never going to happen. ‘With my aunt and my cousin, Shelley,’ she said grudgingly.
‘But you’re not looking forward to it?’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘I’m afraid it is. Your voice lacked a certain...enthusiasm.’
She thought that was a very diplomatic way of putting it. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘So why not spend Christmas somewhere else?’
Keira sighed. In the darkness it was all too easy to forget the veneer of nonchalance she always adopted when people asked questions about her personal life. She kept facts to a minimum because it was easier that way. If you made it clear you didn’t want to talk about something, then eventually people stopped asking.
But Matteo was different. She wasn’t ever going to see him again after tomorrow. And wasn’t it good to be able to say what she felt for once, instead of what she knew people expected to hear? She knew she was lucky her aunt had taken her in when that drunken joy-rider had mown down her mother on her way home from work, carrying the toy dog she’d bought for her daughter’s birthday. Lucky she hadn’t had to go into a foster home or some scary institution. But knowing something didn’t always change the way you felt inside. And it didn’t change the reality of being made to feel like an imposition. Of constantly having to be grateful for having been given a home, when it was clear you weren’t really wanted. Trying to ignore all the snide little barbs because Keira had been better looking than her cousin Shelley. It had been the reason she’d cut off all her hair one day and kept it short. Anything for a quiet life. ‘Because Christmas is a time for families and they’re the only one I have,’ she said.
‘You don’t have parents?’
‘No.’ And then, because he seemed to have left a gap for her to fill, she found herself doing exactly that. ‘I didn’t know my father and my aunt brou
ght me up after my mother died, so I owe her a lot.’
‘But you don’t like her?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You didn’t have to. It isn’t a crime to admit it. You don’t have to like someone, just because they were kind to you, Keira, even if they’re a relative.’
‘She did her best and it can’t have been easy. There wasn’t a lot of money sloshing around,’ she said. ‘And now my uncle has died, there’s only the two of them and I think she’s lonely, in a funny kind of way. So I shall be sitting round a table with her and my cousin, pulling Christmas crackers and pretending to enjoy dry turkey. Just like most people, I guess.’
There was a pause so long that for a moment Keira wondered if he had fallen asleep, so that when he spoke again it startled her.
‘So what would you do over Christmas?’ he questioned softly. ‘If money were no object and you didn’t have to spend time with your aunt?’
Keira pulled the duvet up to her chin. ‘How much money are we talking about? Enough to charter a private jet and fly to the Caribbean?’
‘If that’s what turns you on.’
‘Not particularly.’ Keira looked at the faint gleam of a photo frame glowing in the darkness on the other side of the room. It was a long time since she’d played make-believe. A long time since she’d dared. ‘I’d book myself into the most luxurious hotel I could find,’ she said slowly, ‘and I’d watch TV. You know, one of those TVs which are big enough to fill a wall—big as a cinema screen. I’ve never had a TV in the bedroom before and it would be showing every cheesy Christmas film ever made. So I’d lie there and order up ice cream and popcorn and eat myself stupid and try not to blub too much.’
Beneath the thin duvet, Matteo’s body tensed and not just because of the wistfulness in her voice. It had been a long time since he’d received such an uncomplicated answer from anyone. And wasn’t her simple candour refreshing? As refreshing as her lean young body and eyes which were profundo blu if you looked at them closely—the colour of the deep, dark sea. The beat of his heart had accelerated and he felt the renewed throb of an erection, heavy against his belly. And suddenly the darkness represented danger because it was cloaking him with anonymity. Making him forget who he was and who she was. Tempting him with things he shouldn’t even be thinking about. Because without light they were simply two bodies lying side by side, at the mercy of their senses—and right then his senses were going into overdrive.
Reaching out his arm, he snapped on the light, so that the small bedroom was flooded with a soft glow, and Keira lay there with the duvet right up to her chin, blinking her eyes at him.
‘What did you do that for?’
‘Because I’m finding the darkness...distracting.’
‘I don’t understand.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you?’
There was a pause. Matteo could see wariness in her eyes as she shook her head, but he could see the flicker of something else, something which made his heart pound even harder. Fraternising with the workforce was a bad idea—everyone knew that. But knowing something didn’t always change the way you felt. It didn’t stop your body from becoming so tight with lust that it felt like a taut bow, just before the arrow was fired.
No,’ she said at last. ‘I don’t.’
‘I think I’d better go and sleep in that damned armchair after all,’ he said. ‘Because if I stay here any longer I’m going to start kissing you.’
Keira met his mocking black gaze in astonishment. Had Matteo Valenti just said he wanted to kiss her? For a moment she just lay there, revelling in the sensation of being the object of attraction to such a gorgeous man, while common sense pitched a fierce battle with her senses.
She realised that despite talking about the armchair he hadn’t moved and that an unspoken question seemed to be hovering in the air. Somewhere in a distant part of the house she heard a clock chiming and, though it wasn’t midnight, it felt like the witching hour. As if magic could happen if she only let it. If she listened to what she wanted rather than the voice of caution which had been a constant presence in her life ever since she could remember. She’d learnt the hard way what happened to women who fell for the wrong kind of man—and Matteo Valenti had wrong written on every pore of his body. He was dangerous and sexy and he was a billionaire who was way out of her league. Shouldn’t she be turning away from him and telling him yes, to please take the armchair?
Yet she wasn’t doing any of those things. Instead of her eyes closing, the tip of her tongue was sliding over her bottom lip and she was finding it impossible to drag her gaze away from him. She could feel a molten heat low in her belly, which was making her ache in a way which was shockingly exciting. She thought about the holidays ahead. The stilted Christmas lunch with her aunt beaming at Shelley and talking proudly of her daughter’s job as a beautician, while wondering how her only niece had ended up as a car mechanic.
Briefly Keira closed her eyes. She’d spent her whole life trying to be good and where had it got her? You didn’t get medals for being good. She’d made the best of her dyslexia and capitalised on the fact that she was talented with her hands and could take engines apart, then put them back together. She’d found a job in a man’s world which was just about making ends meet, but she’d never had a long-term relationship. She’d never even had sex—and if she wasn’t careful she might end up old and wistful, remembering a snowy night on Dartmoor when Matteo Valenti had wanted to kiss her.
She stared at him. ‘Go on, then,’ she whispered. ‘Kiss me.’
If she thought he might hesitate, she was wrong. There was no follow-up question about whether she was sure. He framed her face in his hands and the moment he lowered his lips to hers, that was it. The deal was done and there was no going back. He kissed her until she was dizzy with pleasure and molten with need. Until she began to move in his arms—restlessly seeking the next stage, terrified that any second now he would guess how laughingly inexperienced she was and push her away. She heard him laugh softly as he slid his fingers beneath the sweater to encounter the bra which curved over her breasts.
‘Too much clothing,’ he murmured, slipping his hand round her back to snap open the offending article and shake it free.
She remembered thinking he must have done this lots of times before and maybe she should confess how innocent she was. But by then he’d started circling her nipples with the light caress of his thumb and the moment passed. Desire pooled like honey in her groin and Keira gave a little cry as sensation threatened to overwhelm her.
‘Sta’ zitto,’ he urged softly as he pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it aside, the movement quickly followed by the efficient disposal of his own T-shirt and boxers. ‘Stay quiet. We don’t want to disturb the rest of the house, do we?’
Keira shook her head, unable to answer because now he was sliding her panties down and a wild flame of hunger was spreading through her body. ‘Matteo,’ she gasped as his fingers moved down over her belly and began to explore her molten flesh. He stoked her with a delicacy which was tantalising—each intimate caress making her slide deeper into a brand-new world of intimacy. Yet strangely, it felt familiar. As if she knew exactly what to do, despite being such a novice. Did he tell her to part her legs or were they opening of their own accord? She didn’t know. All she knew was that once he started stroking his fingertip against those hot, wet folds, she thought she might pass out with pleasure. ‘Oh,’ she whispered, on a note of wonder.
‘Oh, what?’ he murmured.
‘It’s...incredible.’
‘I know it is. Now, touch me,’ he urged against her mouth.
Keira swallowed. Did she dare? He was so big and proud and she didn’t really know what to do. Swallowing down her nerves, she took him between her thumb and forefinger and began to stroke him up and down with a featherlight motion which nearly made him shoot off the bed.
‘Madonna mia! Where did you learn to do that?’ he gasped.
She guessed it might destroy the mood if she explained that car mechanics were often blessed with a naturally sensitive touch. Instead, she enquired in a husky voice which didn’t really sound like her voice at all, ‘Do you like it?’
‘Do I like it?’ He swallowed. ‘Are you crazy? I love it.’
So why was he halting her progress with the firm clamp of his hand around her wrist, if he loved it so much? Why was he was blindly reaching for the wallet which he’d placed on the nightstand? He was pulling out a small foil packet and Keira shivered as she realised what he was about to do. This might be the craziest and most impulsive thing which had ever happened to her—but at least she would be protected.
He slid on the condom and she was surprised by her lack of fear as she wound her arms eagerly around his neck. Because it felt right. Not because he was rich and powerful, or even because he was insanely good-looking and sexy, but because something about him had touched her heart. Maybe it was the way his voice had softened when he’d asked her those questions about Christmas. Almost as if he cared—and it had been a long time since anybody had cared. Was she such a sucker for a few crumbs of affection that she would give herself completely to a man she didn’t really know? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything.
‘Matteo,’ she said as he pulled her into his body.
His eyes gleamed as he looked down at her. ‘You want to change your mind?’
His consideration only made her want him more. ‘No,’ she whispered, her fingertips whispering over his neck. ‘No way.’
He kissed her again—until she’d reached that same delicious melting point as before and then he moved to straddle her. His face was shadowed as he positioned himself and she tensed as he made that first thrust and began to move, but although the pain was sharp it was thankfully brief. She saw his brow darken and felt him grow very still before he changed his rhythm. His movements slowed as he bent her legs and wrapped them tightly around his waist so that with each long thrust he seemed to fill her completely.
The Italian's Christmas Secret Page 4
