The Italian's Perfect Lover (10 page)

“Dio, cara. But I want you.”

She blinked under the gas lamps. They brought
her to reality and she stretched to turn them off.

“But I want to see you.”

“No, no you don’t.”

He let her slide away and she extinguished
the lights. The room was completely dark now, with no moon, and no
neighboring lights to expose her.

He reached over and guided her to him.

This time his lips lowered to her neck, her
breasts and then his hands slid to the top of the zip. In one
movement the shimmering fabric fell to the ground. Even in the
darkness, Emily felt suddenly nervous, exposed. But his lips made
her fears disappear under the lust they ignited.

He didn’t touch her body with his hands,
other than to undo her bra and pull down her panties. His hands
then went into her hair, bunching it up as he pulled her face to
his.

“I want to see you.”

“No lights.”

“Then I must feel you and taste you.”

She could hardly stop shaking. Her breathing
came quickly, she was instantly moist at his words.

He kissed her again, savoring and exploring,
not taking. His kiss was like a connoisseur’s enjoyment:
intellectually enjoying, but in control. His finger trailed down
her chest and toyed with her nipples that were hard and grew
harder. But his touch was too playful. She wanted more. She pressed
herself against him.

But he drew away and she heard his soft
chuckle as his hands lowered and his palm cupped her stomach.

“I’ve been longing to do this. Do you know
how sensual your stomach is? Its curve just fits my hands and,” his
fingers turned and lowered, ”it’s like an aperitif for the main
course.” She gasped as his fingers explored her. But then he
withdrew and led her to the bed.

“Please. Alessandro.” She tried to undo his
shirt.

“No. Not yet. Do not be impatient. I’m not
finished with you yet.”

He laid her down on the bed and his arms
swept up her legs, her hips, her stomach and caressed her
breasts.

Then he heard her groan and his mouth
followed his hands.

Shocked, she arched her back as she felt the
tension of his lips and teeth playing with her, drawing her out.
She’d never felt such pleasure but not just there. It was like a
direct link to that part of her that, even now, shivered with
anticipation.

For once she took pleasure in the size of her
breasts, normally so inconvenient that she hid them under baggy
shirts. She could feel his appreciation and it made her enjoy her
own sexuality. She felt more confident. She pushed her hands
through his hair, closing her eyes, allowing the sensations to wash
over her in increasing intensity. She gasped as each wave of
sensation increased. She opened her legs to allow him closer
access, wanting him to be not close but a part of her now.

But still he held back. He released her
breasts with a lingering caress and stood up.

Her eyes had become accustomed to the dark
and the distant lights of far-off Naples gave a contrast to the
dark, so slight, but enough to see his shadow as he smoothly slid
out of his clothes.

She sat up and reached out for him.

Her hands slipped around his back and she
drew him down on top of her. His body was hot against hers and
their lips met as she felt his leg between hers. She curled her leg
around him as their bodies pressed hard against each other and they
rolled onto their side.

Emily had only one thing driving her. She
needed to feel his body—so much larger than her own—hard against
her and inside her. There was no time for enjoyment, for savoring;
she wanted only one thing. To have him drive into her and take her
away from herself—make her forget herself in her physical need for
him, a need so powerful that there was nothing else at that
moment.

She twisted and turned in his arms—her
mounting need almost becoming a panic—and within moments was
sitting astride his thighs. She wriggled forward so she could feel
his body pressing against her. Then she held him in both hands and
closed her eyes, focussing on the feel of him as she wriggled
lightly against him while holding his erection in her hands. She
stroked, tentative at first, with her fingers before encircling him
with her hands. Unable to wait another moment, she gasped, and felt
the length of him against herself before she slipped over and down,
sinking, trembling onto him, slowly, slowly, her body wracked with
sensation with each slight movement down, her wetness easing his
size, the tension building inside with each tiny slide. When she
reached the bottom of his shaft, she cried aloud into the dark
night.

“Cara,” he pulled her down and eased her
around until she was under him, his body sheltering hers. He eased
out of her then.

“No!” Her cry was urgent, desperate.

“I need to protect you cara.”

Within moments he was back inside her, where
he belonged. In that one entry she’d felt herself move to fit him,
take on his shape, educate her body that this was the man who
should be there. So when he slipped back into her, she wriggled her
hips in pleasure at the welcome return of something that needed to
be there. She knew in that moment, that she’d always want him—would
be waiting until his return to her when he could enter her and she
would be complete once more.

He moved himself carefully inside her again
and she raised her hips to take him fully. With her first needs
met, she could take the time to feel him now. His body strained
with control, anticipation. She rubbed the soles of her feet
against his calves, relishing the feel of her thighs around his
hips, as they slipped forward and back, once more building up the
coils of tension that spiralled within.

She pulled him tight against her with her
legs. Suddenly a light was turned on far away, dim, but enough so
that they could see each other’s eyes. Their gaze held for a long
moment during which neither moved. Their intimate physical
connection mirrored something more intense that was
savored—suspending movement and thought—until finally their bodies
regained control and he gave her what she wanted. There were no
loud cries this time. Their eyes still held each other until their
lips came together and stifled their cries of ecstasy.

Emily watched as the light changed
imperceptibly, darkening and deepening with the coming of dawn. She
closed her eyes and felt his presence. She didn’t have to see him
to be filled with a sense of him that she knew would never leave;
she could taste him on her lips, she could smell him, see him, feel
him still.

She turned instinctively towards him as she
heard him stir. She tensed as his hand slid towards her, searching
for her body. She shifted her hand between them and he covered it
with his. He relaxed again then, and soon his breathing once more
settled into a rhythmic pattern that seemed to be her own. Her
other hand hovered over his chest, wanting to touch him, as it rose
with each breath taken.

She didn’t have much time. The light was
creeping in, throwing a gauzy haze across the room’s darkness,
creating shapes where none had existed before. She’d have to move
before he awoke. She couldn’t let him see her for what she was. For
several precious minutes, she watched his pulse, flicking at his
neck with each beat of his heart.

She’d found the man who was her home—the
place she wanted to be—the family she’d never had. But what about
him? Was she the family he was looking for?

She knew the answer and lay back on the
pillow, looking up at the beautiful, moulded ceiling, as intricate
and delicate as a wedding cake. It was a vision of beauty as
everything else was in the room, including him. The thought of his
disappointment and disgust when he saw her for what she really was,
filled her with grief. She’d found the place she wanted to be, but
she was worlds away from this man, poles apart, only together
because of the wild notions of his father. And once their time was
over? He’d be gone. Because she wasn’t the perfect lover to keep
him.

How long did she have?

She pulled her hand gently from under his and
rolled quietly off the bed. She grabbed her clothes and left the
room without a backward glance. She had no need to see him. She
would never forget him, because he existed within her now,
always.

Emily couldn’t help but smile to herself. It
was too perfect: the snowy-white alps sparkling under the morning
sun, rippling beneath the jet as they flew over north Italy,
heading for who-knew-where.

“And what, Miss M, makes you smile?”

Alessandro handed her a glass of chilled
champagne.

“It’s so beautiful. Nothing has a right to be
that beautiful.”

“Not everyone sees the beauty in things.”

She felt her smile slip as the reality of the
sentence hit home. Not now. She wouldn’t think of it now.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Just
as well too. Otherwise everybody would want the same thing.”

“And what is it you want, Miss M? You claim
to be a single-minded archaeologist. But I’m not so sure. What are
you really digging for? I don’t believe it’s for the betterment of
academics everywhere. There’s a personal quality to it. There’s
something else that’s driving you.”

She smiled uncertainly and looked back at the
Alps. “Not the gold you’re digging for.”

“A kind of gold, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.”

“So evasive, so secret.”

“As are you. You haven’t told me where we’re
going to yet. Where to this time?” Emily grinned. “New York,
Sydney, Beijing?”

“We have been lovers for less than a week and
already you are demanding. You see, I told you that you would fit
in.”

“So you’re not going to tell me. Another
secret.”

“No. I have had enough of secrets. Life with
you needs no further excitement.”

“Then where? I guess it’s not far if we’ve to
return to Naples this evening.”

“Ah yes, my venerable father’s legacy.”

“Why did he do it? Why did he stipulate that
you must also stay at the villa? Me, I can understand. But
you?”

He sat back out of the rays of the harsh sun,
his eyes now in shadow. He shrugged lightly. “Who knows? I’d been a
way a long time. Perhaps he thought I needed to return.”

“Return home?”

“Return to my past, maybe. But, yes, you’re
correct. We can’t go far if we are to return to the villa tonight.
We are going to Paris. It’s a fund-raiser being organized by some
friends. It should be fun.”

“Are they expecting me?”

“Yes, of course. I told them I would be
bringing a friend.”

She raised her eyebrows in mock indignation
but it was lost on Alessandro as he rose to talk to the pilot who’d
just entered the cabin. It wasn’t exactly how she hoped he’d
describe her. Nevertheless she couldn’t help smiling. He was
incorrigible and in his element: chatting to the staff, answering
business calls on his cell and flirting with her. The bon vivant
doing what he did best.

How the hell did she get together with
someone like him?

The past week had been perfect. She had never
imagined making love could be so intense, so exquisitely emotional.
Sex with Marcus had been satisfying at first, giving her a
closeness to someone she’d never before experienced. But that
hadn’t lasted long as he tried to exert control over her in the
bedroom. And the worst of it was that she had nothing to compare it
to; she’d thought it must be normal to have a domineering partner.
The more successful she became at work, the more confident around
people, the worse he had become—subjecting her to his will by sheer
brute force. But he’d always followed it up with apologies, lies
about loving her, things that confused her into submission once
more. Things, she later realized, that were simply ways of
continuing to exert control over her.

He’d been a master at it, manipulating her
until she didn’t know what was true and what was false; what was
love and what was hate. But she knew what pain was. And what pain
meant.

Only then had it ended, long after it should
have ended.

She’d never again looked for love, knowing
that it didn’t exist. She hated Marcus more than ever now, because
he’d stopped her from seeking what she now knew to exist.

She loved Alessandro with all her heart and
soul and body.

If only she could be right for him.

He finished his conversation and the crew
returned to their quarters and Alessandro returned to his seat.
Even if his height and broad shoulders hadn’t filled the physical
space with his presence, there was something about his manner—the
way he moved, the way he looked—that was a clear signal to everyone
that he was in charge. But not in the way that Marcus had always
believed.

She shivered as he sat down beside her and
turned to look at her closely, questioningly, his hand trailing
slowly up her leg.

“You looked lost in your thoughts, Emily.
Tell me what you were thinking about?”

“You can’t expect me to think as you run your
hand up my leg.”

“Umm. That’s tricky. Do I want your mind, in
which case I should stop distracting you or do I want your
body?”

“Better choose my mind. In case you hadn’t
noticed we’re in a plane with people working just the other side of
that door.”

“True. It is a beautiful mind and an
interesting mind—a rare combination—but one mustn’t forget the
body. It can have a profound effect on one’s mind.” His hand didn’t
stop moving up towards her thigh.

She clamped her hand on top of his. “It’s
having one on mine. It’s telling me that we’ll be landing soon.
There’s no time.”

“We have half an hour yet before we
land.”

He pushed his hand further up her thigh and
she felt her hand slip away from his, allowing him freer access.
Her body melted under his touch, her mind ceased to function as she
felt the soft drag of his nails climbing further up her inner
thigh. She felt herself quiver with anticipation and longing.