The Roman's Woman (A Singular Obsession Book 4) (10 page)

Sighing contentedly, her breasts rubbed against the sprinkling of hair on his upper chest with delicious friction. Pressed tightly together, she rocked with him, their movements perfectly in sync.

This was more than sex. She knew it in her heart. Tears stung at her eyes and she clung to his shoulders harder, trying to hold on with a desperation that came out of nowhere.

Gio must have felt the change in her. He caught her urgency, plunging his hands in her hair and clenching them into fists. Beneath her, his hips worked overtime, lunging up forcefully in harsh strokes. Her channel gripped him firmly as she rode him, undulating on his lap in a striking counterpoint. The move deepened and intensified the hot pulses at her core until the ecstasy surged and crested.

She threw back her head, too out of breath to cry out as Gio buried his face in her neck and groaned. Mouth gaping, she bore down, grinding against him in an effort to prolong the high.

The feeling held for a few more precious seconds until it finally spun away, leaving her hazy and weak.

Distantly, she registered his climax. He groaned gutturally as his cock swelled and pulsed inside her, teasing her G-spot repeatedly as she came down from her orgasm with a final convulsive wrench.

He collapsed on the bed with her in his arms. They lay there quietly, breathing hard as he softened inside of her. Eventually, he turned to her and frowned. He reached out and wiped away the tears on her cheeks, which she hadn’t known were there.

“
Bella mia
, are you okay?” His voice was hoarse and concerned.

Nodding, she swallowed and took a deep breath. “I often cry during sex,” she lied.

“Oh.” He relaxed, toying with her hair before moving down to cup her ass—his hand’s favorite resting place. “Why don’t we jump in the shower and order room service,” he suggested, nibbling at her ear and neck.

She wrinkled her nose. “Bad idea. If we shower together we’ll take forever. I’m starving and this place doesn’t have room service.”

Gio's mouth turned down. “No room service?”

She shrugged. “That's what you get when you go with a charming and historic bed and breakfast instead of a luxury hotel.” Rolling over onto her stomach, she tugged the sheet over her butt.

His hand snuck up to twitch the sheet back down again.

She smacked his hand. “Why don’t
you
jump in the shower, then, and I’ll look for a place nearby on my phone. I’m pretty sure we already missed the breakfast here,” she said, squinting at the digital clock on the bedside table.

He stood with a grin, unashamed of his nudity. “I’ll be quick,” he promised before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Once he was safely out of sight, Sophia collapsed face-first on the bed, burying her nose in the mattress.

Her vacation fling had become so much more.

What am I going to do
?

What was wrong with her? Why did all of her entanglements with men always get so off track? She couldn’t even handle a vacation fling. Other women did rebound sex just fine without getting emotionally involved. Why did she have to be different?

In a few days, she was going to have to go home and it was going to crush her to leave him behind.

The weight in her chest seemed to grow heavier with each breath. She was already mourning Gio’s loss, and he wasn’t even gone yet.

Rolling over, she stared at the ceiling, blinking back more tears. What if he doesn’t want things to end, either? He had certainly been acting very possessive since last night. Before then, actually.

He can’t have you back, you’re mine.
It had certainly sounded like he meant that. What if he was serious and somehow she could keep him?

Stop acting crazy
.

It would never work. Gio was a street performer, for heaven’s sake. Even if by some miracle he was willing to relocate, could she be with someone so different?

How did you date a man without ambition?

She was honest enough to admit that dating someone beneath her professionally would be a problem. It would be embarrassing to take him to work functions and have him mingle with her academic friends—and she had no others. Gio would never fit into her life…unless he gave up street performing.

Maybe he was already considering it? Why else would he have gotten a second job moonlighting as a bank teller? What if he applied for a job at a bank near her in Oxford? Could he give up his devil-may-care artist lifestyle for a boring nine-to-five job?

Not if he did it for you
.

She couldn’t ask him to give up his life. He’d never be happy as a square peg in a round hole. Artists needed freedom and the right to express themselves. She’d be taking his wings and clipping them. She had to let him go. She couldn’t be that person who became involved with someone and tried to fundamentally change them.

Like Richard tried to do to you.

Heart heavy, she reached for her phone to check her emails. With a frown she noticed that her phone was on vibrate.

Shit
. She usually tried to be easy to reach in case something went wrong at the lab, but Gio distracted her. Hopefully work hadn’t needed to speak to her because she never noticed when the buzzer went off unless the ringer was on too. Unlocking it, she checked how many times her ex had called last night.

Sophia sat up abruptly.
Ten
missed calls?

Thinking Richard had truly gone off the deep end, she checked the log. But only four were from Richard—the rest were from Kelly. Worried something terrible had happened, she hurriedly called her back.

“Oh, God, finally,” Kelley gasped when the call went through. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying like crazy to reach you since I got back yesterday from the in-laws.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my ringer was off. Is everything okay? Is it Omar? Did something happen?”

On the other end of the line, her friend exhaled a harsh breath and her heart sank. Something must have happened to Kelly’s husband, Omar, or her parents.

“It’s not me. It’s you. Listen about Gio—”

Sophia laughed, relieved. “I know, I know. I'm crazy. I’ve never done anything like this, but you were the one telling me I should have a rebound relationship. The thing is—”

“No, no! You don’t understand,” Kelly interrupted. “You’re not with Giovanni.”

Sophia smiled sheepishly and stood up, wrapping the sheet around her.

“Actually, I am. Right now. Well, almost. He’s in the shower. Listen, I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved with one of your study subjects, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s insane, but he’s not what I expected, and we…well, I can’t go into it or he’ll hear me gushing like an idiot. But for once I’m not going to overanalyze. I’m trying hard to live in the moment and just…enjoy him. God, I sound like a schoolgirl with a crush. Don’t make fun of me later for the way I’m talking, okay?”

Kelly stayed quiet.

Sophia frowned. “Kel?”

Harsh breathing filled her ear. “Listen and stay calm. You need to get out of there
right now.
”

Apprehension filled her, making her dizzy. She sat heavily on the bed. “Why?”

“He’s not who you think he is. The man you are with isn’t Giovanni Berardi.”

Her stomach tightened. “What?”

“I spoke to the real one,” Kelly said. “He emailed me to apologize for not being able to meet you.”

Sophia relaxed, almost giddy with relief. “Oh, no, it’s all right. I did miss him the first time in Rome. I’d gone on to Milan, and he texted me so I doubled back to meet him.”

“No, Sophia. It’s not him,” Kelly insisted. “The real Giovanni had to miss you in Rome the second time, too. His son was in an accident. He went to the hospital and was too out of it to cancel your appointment. But I got the questionnaire back in the post, so I called him to thank him and he told me everything. A man came to him with the survey and stayed with him till he filled it out. Gave him a thousand euros for his trouble and then took the thing to mail for him. You never met the real Giovanni. Whoever that man is that you are with,
it
isn’t him
.”

Frozen, Sophia sat there with her mouth open.

“Sophie!”

“But…but it has to be. There must be some mistake. We talked about it. His name is Gio…Giovanni.”

There were sounds of movement in the background as if Kelly was pacing and bumping into things. “What does he look like?”

Sophia shrugged, even though Kelly couldn’t see her. “He’s six-two with black hair and light golden-brown eyes.”

“So, he’s not a leathery man in his fifties?”

“No,” she whispered, her heart sinking. “He’s young. Mid-thirties at the latest.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re at my hotel. I told you. He’s in the shower.”

Kelly sucked in a breath. “Get your things and leave before he gets out.”

She nodded dumbly.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes,” she choked out over the lump in her throat.

“Okay, do it now. And Sophia,
hurry
.”

She hung up without another word, looking around wildly. For a moment, she just sat there, the implications of what she’d heard sinking in. What had she done, and who the hell had she done it with?

Move. You need to move
.

Jumping up, she started grabbing clothes and electronics. She threw her computer in her carryon and her phone in her purse. Her toiletries were in the bathroom, but they didn’t matter.

Ransacking her neatly organized drawers, she stuffed everything else into her suitcase and nearly bit her lip open after realizing she hadn’t held back anything to wear.

Not everything is in the bag
.

The black dress from last night was lying on the floor—the one Gio had given her.

Shit. Not Gio
.

The man in the shower was a stranger and a fraud. She didn’t even know his name.

Nearly tripping in her haste, she glanced down at her naked body.
Faster. Move faster
. With shaky hands she pulled on the black dress, fumbling with the zipper. Shoes, she needed shoes. A pair she could run in.

With a wrench, she shoved her feet into her black sneakers, grateful that she brought the kind that slipped on with no shoelaces to slow her down.

Her eyes fell on Gio’s discarded clothes, the sleek suit and shirt he’d worn last night. Impulsive, she picked them up and ran to the window, levering it up with one arm. The window faced a quaint little alley behind the hotel, one lined with coffee shops. Heedless of the startled and amused glances of the people below, she threw the clothes down and slammed the window shut, spinning around when the door to the bathroom opened.

“
Bella mia
, did you find a place for breakfast? If not, there's this great little place a few blocks from here I want to take you to.”

Sophia backed away, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. He was standing there naked from the waist up, his chest glistening and a towel wrapped around his waist.

Oh, hell, what did she do now?

He looked at her and frowned. “
Mi amore
, what’s wrong?”

She raised her hand and was surprised to see it trembling. In fact, she was shaking from head to toe.

Gio’s face filled with concern. He stepped toward her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

No
.

“Stop!” She tried to yell, but it came of strangled and broken. She couldn’t breathe. “Stay away from me! Don’t come any closer.”

His mouth fell open. “I don’t understand.”

Sophia laughed, half-hysterical. “Of course you don’t. I don’t either.” Tears stung her eyes. “Why did you do this?” she whispered. “
Who are you
?”

Realization lit his eyes. She could see it washing over him. He closed his mouth, and the blood drained from his face. But unlike her, he wasn’t about to lose his shit. His face was solemn…and he looked unbearably sad.

He blinked rapidly.

“I need to explain,” he said, holding up his hands, palms out.

It was supposed to be a calming gesture, the kind made when trying to calm a hysterical person. Well, it wasn’t working.

He took another step, and she reached for the nearest thing she could find, a heavy ashtray from the nearby table.

“I said, don’t come any closer!” she yelled, crouching so she could run in case he tried to jump her.

“Sophia, let me explain,” he pleaded, taking another step.

She didn’t hesitate. Pulling back her arm, she threw the ashtray at him with all her strength.

He tried to duck, but he was too slow. The ashtray still made contact, glancing off his head. It was enough to knock him off his feet.

He stared up at her, eyes dazed, with a little blood trickling down from his hairline. Her muscles locked in an effort not to run to him. The impulse to kneel and see if he was all right was overwhelming. But there was no time. She had to go now, before he got back up.