As her body relaxed to accommodate his thickness, Keira felt the excitement build. Inch by glorious inch he entered her, before pulling back to repeat the same sweet stroke, over and over again. She could feel her skin growing heated as all her nerve-endings bunched in exquisitely tight anticipation. She could feel the inexorable build-up of excitement to such a pitch that she honestly didn’t think she could take it any more. And then it happened. Like a swollen dam bursting open, waves of intense pleasure began to take her under. She felt herself shatter, as if he needed to break her apart before she could become whole again, and she pressed her mouth against his sweat-sheened shoulder. Dimly, she became aware of his own bucked release as he shuddered above her and was surprised by the unexpected prick of tears to her eyes.
He pulled out of her and rolled back against the pillows to suck in a ragged breath. With a sudden shyness, Keira glanced across at him but his eyes were closed and his olive features shuttered, so that suddenly she felt excluded from the private world in which he seemed to be lost. The room was quiet and she didn’t dare speak—wondering what women usually said at moments like this.
Eventually he turned to her, his eyebrows raised in question and an expression on his face she couldn’t quite work out.
‘So?’
She wanted to hang on to the pleasure for as long as possible—she didn’t want it all to evaporate beneath the harsh spotlight of explanation—but he seemed to be waiting for one all the same.
She peered up at him. ‘You’re angry?’
He shrugged. ‘Why should I be angry?’
‘Because I didn’t tell you.’
‘That you were a virgin?’ He gave an odd kind of laugh. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. It might have shattered the mood.’
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me why?’
‘You chose me to be your first?’ His smile now held a faint trace of arrogance. ‘I could commend you for your excellent judgment in selecting someone like me to be your first lover, but it’s not really any of my business, is it, Keira?’
For some reason, that hurt, though she wasn’t going to show it. Had she been naïve enough to suppose he might exhibit a chest-thumping pride that she had chosen him, rather than anyone else? ‘I suppose not,’ she said, her toes moving beneath the rumpled bedclothes in a desperate attempt to locate her only pair of panties.
‘I just hope you weren’t disappointed.’
‘You must know I wasn’t,’ she said, in a small voice.
He seemed to soften a little at that, and brushed back a few little tufts of hair which had fallen untidily over her forehead. ‘Sì, I know. And for what it’s worth, it was pretty damned amazing for me, too. I’ve never had sex with a virgin before but I understand it’s uncommon for it to be as good as that the first time. So you should feel very pleased with yourself.’ He began to stroke her hair. ‘And you’re tired.’
‘No.’
‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘And you need to sleep. So why don’t you do that? Lie back and let yourself drift off.’
His words were soothing but Keira didn’t want to sleep, she wanted to talk. She wanted to ask him about himself and his life. She wanted to know what would happen now—but there was something in his voice which indicated he didn’t feel the same. And mightn’t stilted conversation destroy some of this delicious afterglow which felt so impossibly fragile—like a bubble which could be popped at any moment? So she nodded obediently and shut her eyes and within seconds she could feel herself drifting off into the most dreamy sleep she’d ever known.
Matteo watched as her eyelashes fluttered down and waited until her breathing was steady before removing his arm from where it had been resting around her shoulders, but, although she stirred a little, she didn’t waken. And that was when the reality of what he’d done hit him.
He’d just seduced a member of staff. More than that, he’d taken her innocence.
Silently, he cursed. He’d broken two fundamental rules in the most spectacular way. His chest was tight as he switched off the lamp and his mind buzzed as he attempted to ignore the naked woman who lay sleeping beside him. Yet that was easier said than done. He wanted nothing more than to push his growing erection inside her tight body again, but he needed to work out the most effective form of damage limitation. For both of them.
He stared up at the shadowy ceiling and sighed. He didn’t want to hurt her and he could so easily hurt her. Hurting was something he seemed to do to women without even trying, mainly because he couldn’t do love and he couldn’t do emotion—at least that was what he’d been accused of, time after time. And Keira didn’t deserve that. She’d given herself to him with an openness which had left him breathless and afterwards there had been no demands.
But none of that detracted from the reality of their situation. They came from worlds which were poles apart, which had collided in this small bedroom on the snowy outreaches of Devon. For a brief time they had come together in mindless pleasure but in truth they were nothing more than mismatched strangers driven by the stir of lust. Back in Italy he had been given an ultimatum which needed addressing and he needed to consider the truth behind his father’s words.
‘Give me an heir, Matteo,’ he had breathed. ‘Continue the Valenti name and I will give you your heart’s desire. Refuse and I will sign the estate over to your stepbrother and his child.’
Matteo’s heart kicked with pain. He had to decide how much he was willing to sacrifice to maintain his links to the past. He needed to return to his world. And Keira to hers.
His jaw tightened. Would he have stopped if he’d known he was her first? He might have wanted to stop but something told him he would have been powerless to pull back from the indescribable lure of her petite body. His throat dried as he remembered that first sweet thrust. She had seemed much too small to accommodate him, but she had taken him inside her as if he had been intended to fit into her and only her. He remembered the way she’d touched him with that tentative yet sure touch. She’d made him want to explode. Had the newness of it been responsible for her joyful response—and for the tears which had trickled against his shoulder afterwards, but which she’d hastily blotted away?
Suddenly he could understand the potent power wielded by virgins but he could also recognise that they were a responsibility. They still had dreams—because experience hadn’t yet destroyed them. Would she be expecting him to take her number? For him to fly her out to Rome for a weekend of sex and then see what happened? Hand in hand for a sunset stroll along Trastevere, Rome’s supposedly most romantic neighbourhood? Because that was never going to happen. His jaw tightened. It would only raise up her hopes before smashing them.
He heard her murmur something in her sleep and felt the heavy weight of his conscience as he batted possibilities back and forth. What would be the best thing he could do for Keira—this sexy little driver with the softest lips he’d ever known? Glancing at his watch, he saw from the luminous dial that it was just before midnight and the rest of the house had grown silent. Could he risk using the landline downstairs without waking everyone? Of course he could. Slipping from the sex-scented bed, he threw on some clothes and made his way downstairs.
He placed the call without any trouble, but his mood was strangely low after he’d terminated his whispered conversation and made his way back to the bedroom. With the light from the corridor flooding in, he stared at Keira’s face, which was pillowed on a bent elbow. Her lips were curved in a soft smile and he wanted to kiss them. To take her in his arms and run his hands over her and do it all over again. But he couldn’t. Or rather, he shouldn’t.
He was careful not to touch her as he climbed into bed, but the thought of her out-of-bounds nakedness meant that he lay there sleeplessly for a long, long time.
CHAPTER FOUR
A PALE LIGHT woke her and for a moment Keira lay completely still, her head resting against a lumpy pillow as her eyes flickered open and she tried to work
out exactly where she was. And then she remembered. She was in a strange bedroom on the edge of a snowy Dartmoor—and she’d just lost her virginity to the powerful billionaire she’d been driving around the country!
She registered the sweet aching between her legs and the delicious sting of her nipples as slowly she turned her head to see that the other half of the bed was empty. Her pulse speeded up. He must be in the bathroom. Quickly, she sat up, raking her fingers through her mussed hair and giving herself a chance to compose herself before Matteo returned.
The blindingly pale crack of light shining through the gap in the curtains showed that the snow was still very much in evidence and a smile of anticipation curved her lips. Maybe they’d be stuck here today too—and they could have sex all over again. She certainly hoped so. Crossing her arms over her naked breasts, she hugged herself tightly as endorphins flooded through her warm body. Obviously, she’d need to reassure him that although she was relatively inexperienced, she certainly wasn’t naïve. She knew the score—she’d heard the men in the workshop talking about women often enough to know what they did and didn’t like. She would be very grown up about what had happened. She’d make it clear that she wasn’t coming at this with any expectations—although, of course, if he wanted to see her again when the snow had been cleared she would be more than happy with that.
And that was when she noticed the nightstand—or rather, what was lying on top of it. Keira blinked her eyes in disbelief but as her vision cleared she realised this was no illusion as she stared in growing horror at the enormous wad of banknotes. She felt as if she were taking part in some secretly filmed reality show. As if the money might suddenly disintegrate if she touched it, or as if Matteo would suddenly appear from out of hiding. She looked around, realising there was nowhere to hide in this tiny room.
‘Matteo?’ she questioned uncertainly.
Nobody came. Of course they didn’t. She stared at the money and then noticed the piece of paper which was lying underneath it. It took several seconds before she could bring herself to pick it up and as she began to read it she was scarcely able to believe what she was seeing.
Keira, he had written—and in the absence of any affectation like Dear or Darling, she supposed she ought to be grateful that he’d got her name right, because Irish names were notoriously difficult to spell.
I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed last night and I hope you did, too. You looked so peaceful sleeping this morning that I didn’t want to wake you—but I need to be back in Italy as soon as possible.
You told me your dream was to spend Christmas in a luxury hotel and I’d like to make this possible, which is why I hope you’ll accept this small gift in the spirit with which it was intended.
And if we’d been playing poker for money, you would certainly have walked away with a lot more than this!
I wish you every good thing for your future.
Buon Natale.
Matteo.
Keira’s fingers closed tightly around the note and her feeling of confusion intensified as she stared at the money—more money than she’d ever seen. She allowed herself a moment of fury before getting up out of bed, acutely aware that for once she wasn’t wearing her usual nightshirt, and the sight of her naked body in the small mirror taunted her with memories of just what she and the Italian had done last night. And once the fury had passed she was left with hurt, and disappointment. Had she really been lying there, naïvely thinking that Matteo was going to emerge from the bathroom and take her in his arms when the reality was that he couldn’t even bear to face her? What a stupid fool she’d been.
She washed and dressed and went downstairs, politely refusing breakfast but accepting a mug of strong tea from Mary, who seemed delighted to relay everything which had been happening while Keira had been asleep.
‘First thing I know, there’s a knock on the door and it’s a man in one of those big four-wheel drives,’ she announced.
‘Which managed to get through the snow?’ questioned Keira automatically.
‘Oh, yes. Because Mr Valenti ordered a car with a snow plough. Apparently he got on the phone late last night while everyone was asleep and organised it. Must have been very quiet because nobody heard him.’
Very quiet, thought Keira grimly. He must have been terrified that she would wake up and demand he take her with him.
‘And he’s ordered some men to dig your car out of the snow. Said there was no way you must be stranded here,’ said Mary, with a dreamy look on her careworn face. ‘They arrived about an hour ago—they should be finished soon.’
Keira nodded. ‘Can I pay you?’
Mary beamed. ‘No need. Your Mr Valenti was more than generous.’
Keira’s heart pounded; she wanted to scream that he wasn’t ‘her’ anything. So the cash wasn’t there to pay for the B&B or help her make her own journey home, because he’d already sorted all that out. Which left only one reason for leaving it. Of course. How could she have been so dense when the bland words of the accompanying letter had made it perfectly clear? The comment about the poker and the disingenuous suggestion she take herself off to a luxury hotel were just a polite way of disguising the very obvious. A wave of sickness washed over her.
Matteo Valenti had paid her for sex.
Operating on a dazed kind of autopilot, Keira made her way back to her newly liberated car, from where she slowly drove back to London. After dropping the car off at Luxury Limos, she made her way to Brixton, acutely aware of the huge wad of cash she was carrying. She’d thought of leaving it behind at Mary’s, but wouldn’t the kindly landlady have tried to return it and just made matters a whole lot worse? And how on earth would she have managed to explain what it was doing there? Yet it felt as if it were burning a massive hole in her pocket—haunting her with the bitter reminder of just what the Italian really thought of her.
The area of Brixton where she rented a tiny apartment had once been considered unfashionable but now, like much of London, the place was on the up. Two days before Christmas and the streets had a festive air which was bordering on the hysterical, despite the fact that the heavy snows hadn’t reached the capital. Bright lights glittered and she could see Christmas trees and scarlet-suited Santas everywhere she looked. On the corner, a Salvation Army band was playing ‘Silent Night’ and the poignancy of the familiar tune made her heart want to break. And stupidly, she found herself missing her mother like never before as she thought about all the Christmases they’d never got to share. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes as she hugged her anorak around her shivering body, and never had she felt so completely alone.
But self-pity would get her nowhere. She was a survivor, wasn’t she? She would get through this as she had got through so much else. Dodging the crowds, she started to walk home, her journey taking her past one of the area’s many charity shops and as an idea came to her she impulsively pushed open the door of one. Inside, the place was full of people trying on clothes for Christmas parties and New Year—raiding feather boas and old-fashioned shimmery dresses from the crowded rails. The atmosphere was chaotic and happy but Keira was grim-faced as she made her way to the cash desk. Fumbling around in her pocket, she withdrew the wad of cash and slapped it down on the counter in front of the startled cashier.
‘Take this,’ Keira croaked. ‘And Happy Christmas.’
The woman held up a hand. ‘Whoa! Wait a minute! Where did you—?’
But Keira was already pushing her way out of the shop, the cold air hitting the tears which had begun streaming down her cheeks. Her vision blurred and she stumbled a little and might have fallen if a steady arm hadn’t caught her elbow.
‘Are you okay?’ a female voice was saying.
Was she okay? No, she most definitely was not. Keira nodded, looking up at a woman with platinum hair who was wearing a leopard-skin-print coat. ‘I’m fine. I just need to get home,’ she husked.
‘Not like that, you’re not. You’re not fit to go anywhere,’ s
aid the woman firmly. ‘Let me buy you a drink. You look like you could use one.’
Still shaken, Keira allowed herself to be led into the bright interior of the Dog and Duck where music was playing and the smell of mulled wine filled her nostrils. The woman went up to the bar and returned minutes later with a glass of a brown mixture resembling medicine, which was pushed across the scratched surface of the table towards her.
‘What’s this?’ Keira mumbled, lifting the glass and recoiling from the fumes.
‘Brandy.’
‘I don’t like brandy.’
‘Drink it. You look like you’re in shock.’
That much was true. Keira took a large and fiery swallow and the weird thing was that she did feel better afterwards. Disorientated, yes—but better.
‘So where did you get the money from?’ the blonde was asking. ‘Did you rob a bank or something? I was in the charity shop when you came in and handed it over. Pretty dramatic gesture, but a lovely thing to do, I must say—especially at this time of the year.’
Afterwards Keira thought that if she hadn’t had the brandy then she might not have told the sympathetic blonde the whole story, but the words just started tumbling out of her mouth and they wouldn’t seem to stop. Just like the tears which had preceded them. It was only when the woman’s eyes widened when she came out with the punchline about how Matteo had left her a stack of money and done a runner that she became aware that something in the atmosphere had changed.
‘So he just disappeared? Without a word?’
‘Well, he left a note.’
‘May I see it?’
Keira put the brandy glass down with a thud. ‘No.’
There was a pause. ‘He must be very rich,’ observed the blonde. ‘To be able to be carrying around that kind of money.’
Keira shrugged. ‘Very.’
‘And good-looking, I suppose?’
Keira swallowed. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’
The blonde’s heavily made-up eyes narrowed. ‘Hunky Italian billionaires don’t usually have to pay women for sex.’
The Italian's Christmas Secret Page 5
