She barely had the chance to process that when he sat up. ‘Enough gloom. The day is too short.’ He reached into the apparently bottomless basket. ‘Let’s try dessert.’

Perhaps their pasts had nothing to do with the attraction. Perhaps it all came down to the fact that he was the most physically dynamic man she’d ever seen. And he was right. They didn’t need to share more in the way of gloom. Today was about holidays and sun.

The dessert was some creamy confection. He held the spoon, his laughter a soft rumble as he made her lean closer to taste it.

Oh, my. It was the taste of pure decadence.

‘Good, isn’t it?’ He had a spoonful and then offered her another.

‘Mmm-hmm.’

She stretched out and lay back on the pillow then, giving herself over to the utter indulgence. Closing her eyes, letting her mind savour the flavour and soak up the heat. She wanted more of the sweet, wanted much more of him.

‘So all this time you’ve been looking after your sister,’ he spoke softly. ‘Now you need someone to satisfy your needs.’

She turned her head and opened her eyes. His head was close, resting on the cushion right by hers. ‘What makes you think I haven’t got someone already?’

‘If you did, you wouldn’t be looking at me with those hungry eyes.’

She lifted her head, a little on her dignity. ‘You don’t need to lay it on with a trowel, Luca. I’m not completely inexperienced.’

‘Only relatively, sì?’ He laughed. ‘What was he? Some young fool who wouldn’t know how to give pleasure to a woman even if she gave him step by step instructions and a map showing the way?’

She felt the blush covering her cheeks and neck and she shut her eyes again to pretend it wasn’t happening. Her ex had been exactly like that.

‘Emily. I can offer you nothing but a memory.’ His voice was a little strained. ‘But I think it would be some memory.’

She reopened her eyes then—drawn by the power behind his words.

‘When did you last do something you wanted to do?’ he asked. ‘Not something for someone else, or something you had to do. But something you wanted, just for you?’

She couldn’t remember. And she knew he knew. ‘Is that what you’re offering? How generous of you, Luca,’ she mocked gently. ‘As if there’s nothing in it for you.’

‘There’s everything in it for me. I admit it.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m selfish. Be selfish with me.’ He raised himself back up on one elbow, rolling onto his side to face her. ‘We have more in common than you might think. I’ve been working hard too and you’ve worked hard for so long. Don’t you deserve a treat?’

‘Is that what you are?’

He leaned closer. ‘You tell me.’ He reached across and took her hand, lifted it and pressed it to his chest. ‘Feel it? Accelerating?’

The solid thump in his chest was strong and regular and hypnotic and her fingers wanted the fabric to disappear so she could feel his skin direct.

‘Is it like this for you, when we touch? When our arms brush as we walk side by side, does your body want more? Mine does.’ He still spoke quietly but she felt the force of his underlying feeling pierce through to her marrow. ‘What if I did that to you, Emily—would your heart start to race?’

It already was—faster and faster with every word and the spiralling anticipation.

‘I think we should find out.’ He let her hand go and reached across to her, his fingers drawing along the line of her collarbone.

‘Luca…’ She shook her head but couldn’t deny the fire his touch ignited.

His hand slid down, pressed against her tee shirt, pulling it close to her skin, so that her breast was displayed, and he looked at her tight, peaking nipple. He smiled as it jutted out for him; he didn’t need to feel her heart to know his effect on her.

He looked back into her face, intensely determined. ‘Just one kiss.’

One afternoon. One absolute temptation.

He didn’t need to coax her mouth open. She met him halfway, already wet and pliant and seeking. She closed her eyes, able to focus on nothing but him. And there was nothing but his kiss. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue probing, tasting. Rapidly it became more insistent—plundering, taking. She raised her hands, sliding them into his hair. Surrendering and then beginning to make her own demands—opening wider, seeking deeper, harder.

It was bliss. She wanted it to last, wanted to savour each stage. But too soon she wanted more. The need to move closer grew, she wanted him to roll right above her, wanted to feel his weight, to be pressed down into the soft rugs by his hard hips, wanted to explore his…

He drew back. ‘Emily.’

She opened her eyes, hating the interruption.

‘I am going to take you back to my hotel and kiss you like that all over your body. Is that OK with you?’

‘Is your hotel far?’

He laughed, an uncontrolled shout of genuine amusement.

‘I’m serious. Can’t we just do this some more here?’ She didn’t want to wait. She wanted it all, right now.

He smiled, that wonderful warm, relaxed smile, and leaned over her again. The kiss was right back at hot. And then he was kissing her jaw, her throat, his hand was at her breast and she learnt him too, learning the boundaries with her touch—learning that with Luca there were no boundaries. The kisses and caresses were so intense and satisfying yet awakening such an appetite that she knew there would be no saying no. No tomorrow and no regrets. There was only now and a need so great it was overwhelming.

Through heavy eyes she saw the blue of the sky and the green of the branches above them, felt the heat of summer, and all her senses appreciated this paradise. And there was more to come; he promised so much more with every kiss. She shifted on the rug, restless. She’d never known how desire could be a sort of suffering, hadn’t felt this depth of longing for physical fulfilment. The pain of it and the way the body could absolutely overrule reason.

He groaned, as if he too were in pain, and as if he’d read her mind and knew how willing she was, how much she wanted. ‘I’d love to see you naked under these trees, but the Giardino is public. Unless spending the night with the carabinieri is on your list of tourist activities, then we need to leave. Now.’

She almost, almost didn’t care, caught between not wanting this moment to end and wanting to get to the end as fast as possible—to completion.

‘OK.’ She forced the answer; it was like dragging herself out of the warmest, sweetest water. And all she wanted to do was disappear into the depths again. Had he drugged her with that food? But, no, it was his body, and his touch, that were the opiate.

He rose to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Then come.’

Their eyes met for a pregnant moment. And then she smiled.

‘What about this?’ She gestured to the rumpled rug and scattered cushions and containers, not wanting to have to think about them, but years of taking responsibility insisted on it.

He shook his head. ‘It’s taken care of. Don’t worry.’

He took her hand and led her down the sloping gardens. Waiting at the gates was a sleek grey car. Luca held the door open for her and she slid in. He climbed in the back with her. The driver pulled away. It was only minutes to the centre of Verona and his hotel, but all of them were occupied as with light fingers he turned her head towards him and kissed her. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want him ever to stop.

CHAPTER FOUR

SURFACING from the car into a hazy reality, Emily walked beside Luca into the hotel. When she finally focused on her surroundings she almost stumbled. Opulence wasn’t the word. And suddenly she feared she had no place here in her crumpled skirt and camping tee shirt. It was the early afternoon and they were walking into his hotel for an erotic indulgence. She was so turned on, she could hardly walk for the way she’d gone weak at the knees, and she had the horrible feeling that everyone must know. It was so strong to her that surely it must be obvious to everyone else? She longed to return to the quiet solitude they’d had in the warm gardens. This was sophisticated and exclusive and so not her.

He seemed to sense her discomfort, taking her arm and shielding her from the eyes of those in Reception. Smoothly he guided her through the lobby to the lift. It wasn’t a possessive touch, he didn’t put his arm around her and haul her close, it was merely a light hand at her elbow, and the simplicity and the politeness made the doubts wane. There was respect in his manner and she knew he had every intention of taking care of her. Suddenly nothing else mattered.

He didn’t maul her in the lift either, stood beside her quietly, keeping his hand still light on her arm as he escorted her onto his floor. He swiped the key card and opened the door. She walked in, relieved to be alone with him again but still knocked sideways. He didn’t just have a room, he had a suite. She’d guessed he had money, understood he was a financier of some sort. But she hadn’t realised it was quite like this.

She turned to study him, reassessing. All Italians dressed nicely, didn’t they?

‘Second thoughts?’ He was watching her just as keenly. ‘It’s OK to say no.’

Concentrating on him made the intimidating surroundings disappear. She melted all over again.

‘No,’ she said, then smiled naughtily at the flash in his eyes. ‘I don’t want to say no,’ she elaborated firmly.

She watched, quite pleased as with obvious effort he un-clenched his jaw. ‘Good.’

‘It will be the best, won’t it, Luca?’ She searched for final reassurance. Having had a sample of what could only be heaven, she didn’t want disappointment. She’d had that before. ‘I want the best.’ And she did. To be lost from herself for just a few magic moments. One afternoon where she could forget the past and ignore the future. Let go of worries and responsibilities and be free to feel pleasure. It would be the first time and she’d been waiting for ever.

He closed the gap between them with slow, sure steps. His finger traced her lower lip as it had the night at the opera. ‘Don’t doubt it.’

Her eyelids lowered slowly as the crazy lethargy returned. It was as if her senses were tuning out everything except him—his touch, his voice, his scent and his determination. There would be no saying no. It wasn’t even an option, not for her.

This magic, this mysterious man—she wanted to know no more, except of his body. It had been there, from the first glance, the blink and reassessment that had happened in the quickest instance—one body’s recognition of the other.

She didn’t believe in love at first sight. But now she most certainly believed in lust at first sight. Her body programmed to seek his as her mate. It had never happened to her before. The few dates she’d been on, that past boyfriend—she’d felt nothing. But this, this was as if she’d been branded with a white-hot iron—his.

She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. She still couldn’t. Through her half-closed lids she watched him concentrate as slowly, so slowly, the tips of his fingers moved from her lips, brushing down her jaw, her neck and down the slope of her chest. She went taut with anticipation but his path diverted, going around her nipples rather than directly over them. She hissed out her breath, wanting him to touch her there.

But his fingers skimmed down her sides, and then took the hem of her tee shirt. Carefully he raised it, automatically she lifted her arms to help. In a second he had it off her, and tossed it to the side.

She stared at him, unashamed about the way her full breasts were trying to burst out of her bra, at the way her nipples were pressing hard against the fabric—begging him the only way they could. She just wanted him to touch.

His jaw was clenched hard again. His hands lifted. The light, gentle fingertips went back to her waist, slipping around her skirt to find the zip.

She wriggled her hips to help it slide down. And then she was standing before him, for a second stupidly hoping that it didn’t matter that her bra and briefs didn’t match.

He curved his arms right around her, fingers at work once more, unclasping the hooks. The straps loosened. He tweaked them at her shoulder and the shells of her bra slipped from her breasts.

For a moment there was nothing, only his fierce attention as he looked, colour rising in his face. She was almost about to plead when his hands lifted, cupping her breasts the way her bra had, only pushing them a little higher and then closer together. His thumbs rubbed gently over her peaking nipples as his hands explored their soft weight.

Her mouth opened, unconsciously doing what she wanted him to do—to open up and taste her.

His gaze lifted to meet hers, reading her expression, revealing his own hot desire. And then his mouth caught hers in a kiss that was deep and carnal and demanding, his tongue driving in and claiming. She met him, stroke for stroke, thrusting her hands into his hair and holding him. But he moved his kiss. Following the path his fingers had taken from her mouth, her jaw, her neck until finally, thankfully he was kissing her chest, up the slopes to where his hands held her breasts, pushing them together so his tongue could assault both her nipples with strong licks, and then he sucked her into his mouth.

She swayed towards him, the heat turning mass and muscle to liquid. But at her unbridled moan he lifted away, his thumbs instantly working to soothe the yearning in her breasts.

‘Do you want me to take my shirt off, or do you want to do it yourself?’ His breathlessness heightened her longing.

She too was breathing hard but she couldn’t pass on the challenge or the pleasure. ‘Let me.’

She fumbled with the first button but got the knack of them after the next. Drinking in the sight of his chest as it was slowly revealed. She reached out a hand, touched the hard heat of it, feeling the roughness where hair dappled it, finally placing her hand back over his heart. To where he’d placed it in the garden but this time on bare skin, feeling the life force beating, feeling the rhythm. And then she scraped his nipple with the tip of her thumb, watched the definition of his abs go even sharper. She pushed the shirt off his broad shoulders, stretching her arms wide to reach down his arms. All rock-hard, barely restrained muscle.

At that she didn’t hesitate to go lower and pull out the loop of his belt. His trousers dropped to the floor. Then she was confronted with his boxers—and their package.

She blew out the breath she’d seemed to be holding for ever. Feeling the heat suffuse her cheeks, she tried to stretch the fabric over his large erection. Until, hands shaking, feeling both embarrassed and excited, she mumbled, ‘I think you better do…that bit.’

He caught her wrists and pulled her close, laughter rumbling in his chest. ‘But shouldn’t that be the best bit?’

She nodded. ‘I’m sure it is, but I might need a moment to get used to it.’

He kissed her again, long and deep, and then without warning pushed her back onto the bed, coming down hard on top. She wriggled, unbelievably happy to have the weight of him on her at last.

He held his head from hers, teasing. ‘I think we should take things very, very slow.’

If this was taking things slow, then heaven help her if he decided to speed them up.

But then he did go slow. Kisses trailed and fingers toyed as he did as he’d promised and kissed her all over her body. As he peeled off her panties and made his way back to the tops of her thighs she couldn’t hold back the squirm—overly aware of what was going to happen.

‘Don’t be shy,’ he said calmly.

She breathed in deep. He was right. Why be shy? This was her afternoon, after all. She reached out a hand, felt the strength of his thigh. Rubbed her fingers through the masculine hair, felt the muscles working underneath it. And found her appetite to explore more was ravenous. How good he felt beneath her fingers—how much better might he feel beneath her lips? So she tried exactly that. Never had she had such a body to explore before—to taste, to delight in. Now she understood why humans sought beauty, marvelled in it, celebrated it.

Perfection.

Silently he let her play, she could feel him watching her, feel the tension mounting until he suddenly jerked away from her, pulling open the drawer in the table beside the bed so hard the whole thing fell out. No matter, he had what he wanted, was out of the boxers, had rolled the condom on and she watched and smiled, knowing that soon, soon, soon, she would have all that she wanted.

He took the lead again, pinning her down with his heavy, strong body. And she poised, waiting for him to move, wanting him to thrust into her.

But still he didn’t. He smiled, that cheeky, boyish smile, and moved down her body. Doing once more as he’d promised, kissing her with wet, deep kisses all over her body. Only this time he did go all over. Until then he was kissing her there and only there—the most intimate of places. His fingers joining in too until she was rocking and pleading and about to burst. She thrashed, arms raking the sheets, not wanting it to end yet, wanting all of him but unable to hold herself back.

‘Don’t fight it,’ he commanded.

And she couldn’t any more. She gave in to the insistence of his mouth and fingers, lost control completely with a harsh cry. Every limb stretched long, her body arched and taut and then suddenly buckling, writhing as the tension snapped and pleasure pulsed through every cell.

Even as she was still shuddering he was moving back up her length. Kissing her stomach as it spasmed, then her screaming tight nipples were anointed by his tongue again.

He was above her now, his hand gently stroking down her jaw. She opened her eyes to find him watching her closely. She could hide nothing from him.

‘You were right,’ she panted. ‘That was the best.’

There was no answering smile. ‘No.’ His eyes bored into hers, intense, serious and incredibly focused. ‘That was just the beginning.’

The force of it was almost a threat. Half dizzy, she shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I can…’

She felt him then, hard and thick, probing in her wetness. With a whoosh the fire inside raged back. The tiny moment of calm obliterated as the storm broke.

His hands cupped her bottom, moving her to accept him, making her mould and melt for him. She cried out at his devastating, overpowering demand.

‘You can do it,’ his voice encouraged gently, while his body wielded its mastery.

What she couldn’t do was hold back any longer. She bent her knees, instinctively opening up more for him. She’d thought she’d been unleashed before but she’d been dreaming. Now she was beyond boundaries. There was nothing left—no thought, no shyness, no self-consciousness, no self-control as she shuddered beneath him, finally absorbing every last inch.

The rough moan that passed her lips as she arched her back was the result of raw bliss. She sighed, louder, lifting to meet him once more, unable to believe how fantastic he felt. She stroked her hand down the hard strength of his back, kissed the skin nearest to her—up and down the column of his throat, tasting the salt in the hollow of his shoulder, delighting in the way his beautiful, big body locked so completely into hers. She pressed her hips in time to meet his—again and then again, following the rhythm he set, faster and faster until finally they were moving together with a pace that was frantic, the feral sounds from her throat matched by the hoarse grunts from his. Sweat slicked them. Temperatures and sensations spiked so high that in the heat and light and speed of it all there was nothing but brilliance. Her fingers curled into claws, scouring across his skin, making him pummel so hard and so deep and so deliciously that she screamed her way to the stars and beyond.

‘Open your eyes.’

She automatically obeyed. The ceiling was above her. So the world still existed. She hadn’t been sure until then.

‘Look at me.’

She couldn’t ignore the imperative.

He had slid down the bed a bit, so his body was no longer crushing hers. Dazed, she studied the difference in their colouring. She had come from a cold winter so her skin was pale, whereas his olive complexion had been enhanced in the height of the European summer. Between her legs she could feel his strength, his heart thudding intimately against her thigh.

He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. Then a sort of smile twisted his lips. ‘You’re very beautiful, Emily.’

She almost smiled too but couldn’t quite manage it in the tumbling emotional aftermath. ‘Is it always like that for you?’

‘No.’

Of course he would say that. She knew now what a gentleman he was.

His gaze dropped from hers and he pressed a kiss to her hip. ‘It is never like that.’

As he spoke the words faint colour stained his cheeks and she was suddenly certain he was speaking the truth. She closed her eyes again, desperately needing to rest, to recover from the sensory overload and to deny the fleeting feeling of regret that there would be no more than this moment. He moved to lie beside her, drawing the sheet up to cover their cooling skin, bringing her head onto his chest and sliding his strong arms around her, giving her trembling body the comfort of a sure embrace.

She didn’t know how long she slept. It couldn’t have been that long as the sun was still high in the sky. He was awake, watching her with eyes so dark and deep they were almost all black. She didn’t know what to say to him. How could she possibly express the intensity she’d felt?

But he shook his head slightly as if he knew. There shouldn’t be words; they couldn’t do it justice.

‘Shower with me.’ He stood from the bed and as she stared at his magnificent form the urge inside flared once more.

Her hunger must have been obvious because he smiled. ‘I want to see you come again, Emily.’

She rose onto all fours, feeling the thrill of power as his eyes widened at the sight of her. ‘Well, I guess that’s up to you.’

The shower had never been such an exotic, erotic experience. He carried her, still connected to her, back to the bed so he could continue to manipulate her body, making her respond in a way that was fierce and passionate and almost frightening but all incredible.

For a while they lay, half-dozing, half-wrapped in towels, and through the window she watched the blue of the sky intensify. Finally she stirred, achingly stunned but also content.

‘I’d better get back to the hostel.’

He didn’t argue. In almost companionable silence they dressed. She drifted her way downstairs, uncaring of anyone’s opinion now. None of that mattered—not in the face of this moment of bliss.

It was only when they were leaving the hotel that he spoke. ‘You fly to London tomorrow?’

‘Yes.’ She chose not to look in his face, or at the impending reality. It was what it was, it had been shockingly wonderful, and there was nothing else to say.

Luca escorted her through the streets and fought to regain mastery over his emotions. She’d just torn every shred of self-control and reservation from him. He’d expected sweet, simple enthusiasm and he’d got a vehement passion that had rocked him to the core.

He wanted more. Oh, my God, he wanted. It was good she was going. Because despite that deep response, she was young and inexperienced and he’d be a heel to take advantage any more than he already had. The very occasional affairs he had were ultra short and he only had them with women well used to that sort of game. That wasn’t Emily.

Yet the glow that had enveloped her as she lay cushioning him was like a soft, flattering light—it was how she was meant to look. Utterly beautiful and the most sensual person he’d known—and the most dangerous. Because if she could rip him open in one afternoon, what would she threaten if he saw her again? Luca had spent the best part of a decade sealing away his emotions, had zero tolerance for that kind of risk. He’d held and lost too much before and he wasn’t taking the chance on it ever happening again.

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