The Italian's Perfect Lover (17 page)

Love. There was so much everywhere. How come
she’d never noticed it before? It transformed people—if you let it,
if someone loved you back.

Emily dragged her gaze away from the
window—from other people’s worlds. She had her own world, her own
life. And for today, she smiled, she would be with the man she
loved.

The car pulled into the driveway of an
exclusive restaurant that overlooked the bay. Her heart quickened
when she saw Alessandro, leaning against the door, waiting for her,
a slow grin spreading across his face. He opened the door for her
and helped her out. He immediately wrapped one arm around her and
kissed her on the cheek.

“Glad to see the prescription sunglasses are
coming in useful.”

She patted her new handbag. “I still have my
old ones, just in case.”

“In case you wish to irritate me?”

“Now, why would I want to do that?”

“I have no idea, Emily. But there is so much
about you that I don’t understand, that I don’t attempt to predict
your behavior.”

“I’d say I was very predictable.”

“Then you have no self-knowledge.” He turned
to her underneath the portico, searching her eyes. “As I said the
first night we met, your eyes hold secrets. But come, we do not
talk of secrets on such a day. Only pleasure.”

“Pleasure is all right by me.” They walked
out onto a private deck overlooking the azure sea, white-flecked
and stunning. “This place is beautiful.” She plucked some antipasti
from the table and popped it in her mouth. “And the food is
beautiful too.”

“Yes. It’s a special place. I thought my
lover should experience some of the finer points of
civilization.”

She shivered at his possessive words. “Are
you calling me a heathen?”

“You tear around in the dust and stones in
shorts and a t-shirt, mud on your face, dust in your hair, digging
up rocks. You eat whatever is put in front of you. You are equally
amicable with everyone. You are a heathen and the worst kind of
socialist. Without any discernment.”

“And you are the worst kind of aristocrat,
believing that there is only one way to view anything and that
everyone has their place in society’s hierarchy. Perhaps,” she
hooked her elbows on the railing and leaned back, aware of the
effect on him of her low-cut dress, “you can tell me just how low
mine is.”

He stepped towards her, ran his hands along
her arms and then gripped the railings either side of her elbow.
His body was close but not touching.

“Very low. Scraping the bottom.”

She had no choice but to kiss his smile away.
But when she stepped back she realized she hadn’t succeeded. It had
curled into his predator’s smile: one that revealed he knew he had
his prey just where he wanted it.

“I think we’d better eat.” She ducked under
his arm.

“I think so. Or you will be eaten.”

They entered the private dining room that
contained only one large table set with silver cutlery and silver
and white china that glowed in the light reflected up from the sea.
She hesitated before entering.

“Is this the right place? It looks like
someone’s drawing room.”

“That’s because it was. All the furniture,
all the fittings are original to the villa.”

“Really?” She wandered over to look more
closely at a painting that hung over the marble fireplace.
“Complete with family paintings. Someone obviously didn’t have much
affection for their family if they were happy to leave all this
behind: to sell absolutely everything.”

“Yes. My father was not impressed.”

“What? Who sold it?”

“I did.”

“It was yours? You sold it?” Emily shook her
head in disbelief.

“The house was left to me by my grandparents.
It was mine to dispose of so I did.”

“Why? It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a traditional family home. I have no
use for that.”

“But all the family’s possessions—”

“Not all.”

“Surely you want to pass them on to your
children.”

“No. As I said, I do not need a family home
because I do not intend to have children.”

Emily sipped her water carefully and replaced
it on the polished wooden table before answering. “You don’t intend
ever to have a family.”

“No. Never.”

“And may I ask why?”

He sat back and looked at her
consideringly.

“Because I have nothing to give a family and
because they have nothing to give me. It’s lose-lose. So why would
I want to?”

She shrugged. “It’s what everyone wants, deep
down.”

“No. Not me. And surely not you. From what
you’ve told me you’ve seen enough of dysfunctional family life to
last a lifetime. Come, let’s eat and then we will have an afternoon
of pleasure to look forward to.” He poured her a glass of water and
raised his own glass of wine to hers. “To pleasure.”

Despite the heat in his eyes, his words
struck a chill chord and she shivered.

She raised her glass to his without
answering. For what was there to say? He’d made his position
abundantly clear. He clinked his against hers, his eyes narrowed.
He wasn’t smiling now.

They didn’t arrive home until late afternoon
when Alessandro led Emily down to the private beach.

The waves tumbled into the rocky cove as
Emily watched Alessandro dive into the surf and swim strongly out
into the bay. His body was something to behold: his tanned skin,
the sun glistening on the water as it slipped over his muscular
back, flexing with each lift of his arm as it pounded into the
sapphire blue water.

She shivered slightly under the brisk wind,
but it wasn’t from cold. It was like a harbinger of the future:
cold, alone, always looking on. Back to where she once was.

She drew her arms around her—in more of a
gesture of comfort than for warmth—and closed her eyes beneath the
glare that still managed to edge its way around her sunglasses.

His ardor suitably cooled, Alessandro walked
out of the water and stood over Emily. She was wearing the bikini
that he’d bought her. He’d ordered the skimpiest available for his
own pleasure. He’d been right. While her breasts were deliciously
full and spilled out around the tiny triangle, the rounded stomach
and thighs and bottom were well-toned with all her hard physical
work, but still sensuously curved.

Umm. He couldn’t go swimming again. He’d been
trying to restrain himself because all he could think about was
Emily—not only of what he wanted to do to her, with her, but
thinking about what made up the sum of this woman who dominated his
thoughts, feelings and dreams.

He raised his hand and dripped cold water
onto her breasts. Her eyes flicked open with the shock and her
nipples peaked immediately.

He dropped down and lay on top of her,
covering her hot body with his wet one. He stifled her squeal with
a kiss that showed his intentions quite clearly.

He raised his head and let his eyes drink her
in. Tanned skin, vivid green eyes, now hooded with desire; fine
light brown brows fanning out beneath a broad forehead. He loved
the shape of her head, perfectly regular; he loved the tilt of her
chin, perfectly challenging. His lips slipped to her neck and he
breathed in her fragrance. He felt himself harden even more.

With his teeth he tugged aside the tiny
scraps of fabric to reveal the rich dark nipples that grew tighter
still, anticipating his touch.

Lazily he flicked his tongue against one,
then the other, watching as she arched her back, wanting more. He
smiled. God, he’d never wanted a woman so much. Never had a woman
been so sensitive to his touch, so willing to move her body in time
to his.

He lowered his mouth once more to her nipple
and took it fully, his body lowering onto hers as he heard her gasp
with pleasure and felt her legs shift to accommodate him.

He moved his mouth to the other one, his
whole attention absorbed in her breasts.

“No, Alessandro. What if someone should see
us?”

“Cara,” he murmured, “there is no-one. The
cove is private and not overlooked. But, even if it were? I would
not care. Why would you? Making love is the most beautiful thing in
the world.”

“But—”

He staved off her retort by slipping his
finger around the top of her bikini bottoms, teasing her with his
fingers. He felt her flutter under his touch and, as she lay back
in surrender, he pulled them off in one swift movement. He couldn’t
take his eyes off her face, her closed eyes luxuriating in the
sensations that his fingers created on her body; her mouth, red and
swollen from his kisses, moist and slightly apart. He groaned,
pulled his hand away and rolled over, laying down beside her. “Yes,
of course you’re right.”

Laughing, he caught her hand as it came
across to slap him and he gripped it tightly, weaving his fingers
through hers before kissing her fist.

“I will get my own back on you,
Alessandro.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, still
holding her hand tight within his own and watched her. “I will look
forward to it.” He could see the reflection of the clouds in her
eyes, passing swiftly by overhead; he could smell the sun and sea
and sand on her.

He trailed his hand lazily around her face,
her scarred shoulders and arms and her breasts before dragging his
fingernails lightly in a straight line down from her navel. He
could feel her tense in anticipation beneath his touch.

“You should be the subject one of those
mosaics.”

She laughed. The sound warmed him.

“Yeh, right. Who’d want to look at me?”

“Yes, you’re right. Certainly it wouldn’t be
proper in some circumstances. Religious, for instance. We wouldn’t
want to stimulate people who shouldn’t be stimulated. But anyone
else? My Emily, you have no idea.”

His Emily?
Emily swallowed, trying to
contain the hope that surged at his words. Just a turn of phrase.
Keep it light.

“Oh, I have some. Now let’s see. What pose
would you give me?” Her stomach heated with desire under the
scrutiny of his eyes. Her body was on fire for his touch but she
didn’t move. And nor did he: simply lay there lazily and blatantly
looking at her body from under narrowed eyes. She tried to be cool
but she knew the rapid rise and fall of her chest pushing up her
peaked nipples, gave away how much she wanted him.

“Umm.” He rose, walked around her, eyeing up
her naked body from different angles. “Perhaps move one leg like
so,” he pulled one knee up and pushed it out slightly. “Good. But
not prone. We don’t want a passive goddess do we?”

She sat and propped herself on her elbows,
her breasts swinging lightly with the movement.

“Good. But one more thing.” Before she could
stop him he dropped down to his knees and suckled first one breast
and then another, drawing the nipples to the fullest extent. He
stood back. “That’s better.”

She could feel a wash of heat strip through
her body and pool moisture where his fingers had toyed only moments
before.

“Since when have you had all the say in
this?”

“I am the artist here, am I not?”

“In your dreams, count.” She rolled onto her
tummy. “How about this view.” There was a brief silence and she
drew up her knees, about to get up when she felt his hands come
under her hips and pull her to him and the thrust of his hard penis
enter her deeply. She came instantly with a cry of passion that
rocked around the small cove.

Darkness had fallen and they were alone once
more in the dining room. It was formal, the huge table set with
silver and their plates filled by the butler before he’d tactfully
withdrawn. The night had settled into the typical Naples night:
warm and humid. The evening breeze sent the fine curtains
periodically billowing and then skittering across the wall and
floor.

After the passionate love-making of the day,
the distance between them seemed artificial. It somehow made Emily
nervous. It emphasized the differences between them, differences
that didn’t matter when there was just the two of them, alone,
informal, intimate. She looked up at him wondering if he, too, felt
the change. But when he answered her look, she looked away
suddenly.

She was being stupid. It was what it was.

She wriggled in her seat, aware of sand in
awkward places and looked up at him to find him looking directly at
her, his smile indicating he knew the reason for her movement.

Was there nothing this man missed? Just the
sight of his eyes feasting themselves on her, of his lips moist
from his drink, made her inner muscles flutter in expectation.

She shook herself. This wasn’t real. This was
never meant to have happened.

“What is the matter, Miss M?”

She twisted her lips. How to begin?

“Is this too formal for you? I thought it
would be nice for a change, to have some of the comforts of luxury
between you and your beautiful body.”

“Rather than sand, you mean?”

“Esattamente.”

“It is nice. It’s beautiful.” She looked down
at her plate and pushed some risotto around with her fork. She was
still feeling out of sorts.

“So, if it’s not the surroundings, why the
frown?”

“Just thinking,” she shrugged lightly, and
took a rapid sip of water, “how crazy this is.”

It was his turn to frown.

He gestured around the room and to her. “It
is normal. What is so crazy?”

“You and me. You’re of this world. I’m not.
It might be normal to you but, to me?” She shook her head. “You
know nothing about me.”

“I know all I need to know.”

She snapped her head up.

“
That
, is an arrogant thing to say.
All you want to know about me is how I relate to you, now. What
about me? What about my past?”

“I don’t need to know about your past. I
don’t wish to know about your future. All I want to know about you
is here, right now.”