by Penny Jordan
‘Yes,’ she choked out.
‘What about this?’ he asked, taking the nipple furthest from him between his thumb and forefinger, and slowly but firmly starting to squeeze.
‘Oh, God!’ she cried out as an electrifying shard of sensation rocketed through her body, making her belly tighten and her thighs quiver.
‘And this?’ he went on, holding the nipple with a hard grip and twisting it from right to left.
She moaned. It was not a moan of protest or pain. But it wasn’t pleasure, either. This wasn’t making love, she thought wildly. This was something else, something dark, delicious and troubling. Troubling because she liked it too much.
‘No, don’t,’ she half-sobbed after he kept doing it. ‘Don’t.’
To give him credit he stopped straight away. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ he said, his expression remorseful.
‘Just kiss me,’ she said shakily.
He did. And it was lovely. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him down on top of her. Soon, the kissing wasn’t enough, of course. Dear heaven, but she wanted him so much. Her legs moved out from under him, spreading wide, her knees lifting in blatant invitation. He groaned, then obliged, sliding into her after only a momentary hesitation. It was fantastic, the feel of his flesh filling hers, the way he rocked back and forth inside her. Her hips moved with him, urging him deeper and deeper. He groaned again, the sound one of torment and frustration. When his rhythm picked up, the sensations were mind-blowing. She’d never felt such pleasure. Or such tension. She was panting and praying, wanting to come but not wanting it to end.
‘Dio,’ he growled, then came, his violent ejaculation propelling her into an orgasm that was as powerful as it was primal. Her fingernails dug into his back as her body bucked under his. Her mind was just as splintered, uncaring of anything but the ecstasy of the here and now.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LEONARD COULDN’T BELIEVE he’d done it again. He’d lost control and not used a condom. Yet he’d put a couple on the bedside chest earlier, along with his phone and his watch.
Not that it mattered, he supposed.
Or did it? Could he really trust that Veronica was on the pill, like she’d said?
He withdrew abruptly, rolling away from her with a worried sigh.
‘What is it?’ she asked straight away. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ he muttered, angry with himself now. ‘Just…’ He glanced over at her, not wanting to spoil things between them, but he simply had to say something. ‘I didn’t use a condom again.’
‘Oh,’ she said, blinking as though she herself had only just realised. ‘I meant to ask you to use one. But I forgot.’
‘I guess it doesn’t matter, since you’re on the pill,’ he went on. ‘But let’s face it, even the pill isn’t one hundred percent safe.’
Now it was her turn to sigh. ‘True.’
He wished he hadn’t brought the matter up. What they’d just shared had been incredible and he hated that he might have ruined the chance of more of the same.
‘Look, Leonardo,’ she said with an edge to her voice. ‘Trust me when I say there’s nothing for you to worry about. Aside from anything else, my period is due on Monday. If by some perverse twist of fate the worst happened, then I would handle it. I certainly wouldn’t use a baby to trap you into marriage.’
He couldn’t help being shocked. ‘You’d have a termination?’ He didn’t believe in abortion; he had been brought up to think of all life as sacred.
‘I didn’t say that,’ she snapped, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. ‘I need to go to the bathroom.’
* * *
Veronica just made it onto the toilet before the tears came. She didn’t know why she was so upset. Perhaps because one minute she’d been lying underneath Leonardo’s utterly gorgeous body, thinking she’d died and gone to heaven, and the next he’d rolled away from her, leaving her feeling both abandoned and unloved. He’d spoiled her little romantic fantasy with his worries about having unsafe sex.
It did bother her a bit that once again she herself hadn’t thought of protection, especially after she’d planned to insist on it this time. But of course at the back of her mind she’d known she was ninety-nine percent safe. Did he honestly think she’d deliberately risk falling pregnant to a man like him?
The very thought appalled her. At the same time, it upset her that he would think she was anything like that other girl who’d lied to him so shamefully.
But you lied to him too, Veronica. By omission. You let him think you’re on the pill but you aren’t. Just because you know it’s the wrong time of the month to conceive is not an excuse. You still lied to him.
Guilt had her biting her bottom lip. As did regret. The trouble was it was too late to tell him the truth now. He was a cynical man, and possibly ignorant of how well a woman could know her own body. He wouldn’t understand that there really was very little risk. She was as regular as clockwork. The only time in years when it had been disrupted was when Jerome had died. Shock and stress, the doctor had said. But eventually everything had settled back into its normal rhythm, not missing a beat since.
Veronica sighed then stood up. Whilst washing her hands, a quick glance in the vanity mirror showed a tear-stained face and very messy hair. Without stopping to think, she dived into the shower again, turning on the taps, squealing when it came out freezing cold at first. She squealed again when Leonardo suddenly pulled back the screen door.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously.
‘The…the water was c-cold,’ she stammered. ‘It…it’s getting warmer now.’
His frown smoothed out, replaced by an apologetic smile. ‘I am a fool,’ he said. ‘I trust you, Veronica. Truly I do. Forgive me?’
He didn’t wait for a reply, stepping into the shower with her and pulling her into his arms. They kissed under the warm jets of water. Then kissed some more. Leonardo ran his hands up and down her back, then stayed down, cupping her buttocks and yanking her hard against him. His head lifted then and he laughed. ‘See what you do to me? Anyone would think I hadn’t had sex in months.’
‘Poor Leonardo. How long has it been, then?’ she asked him with a coquettish glance. ‘A whole week at least?’
‘Longer than that,’ he protested.
‘Two weeks?’
‘You really do have a bad opinion of me. Let me assure you that, since Laurence passed away, sex has been the last thing on my mind.’
His mentioning her father made Veronica sigh. ‘I came here to find out about my father, and all I’ve wanted to do since I arrived so far is be with you. You’re like a drug, Leonardo. A very addictive drug.’
‘Is that a criticism or a compliment?’
‘I’m sure you’ll take it as a compliment.’
‘If you insist,’ he said. And he grinned down at her. ‘Come. I’m not one for making love in showers. I much prefer the comfort of a bed.’ So saying, he leant past her and turned off the taps before pushing open the glass door. The nearest towel rail was empty, however, both towels still on the bedroom floor where Leonardo had dropped them.
‘There are more towels in the utility room,’ Veronica informed him—not very helpfully, since the utility room was some distance away.
‘I think we’ll just make a dash for the bedroom. Use the towels we left there.’
‘All right,’ she said, wringing out her hair so that it wouldn’t drip too much.
They were like two naughty teenagers who’d gone skinny dipping in the sea and had to run for their clothes. They both made a dive for the nearest towel, actually having a mock tug-of-war before Leonardo gave in and let her have it. She didn’t wrap it around herself this time, just rubbed herself dry then bent forward and wound it around her wet hair, before straightening and scrambling into the bed, where she sa
t up against the pillows with her arms crossed over her bare breasts and her turbaned head feeling ridiculously heavy.
‘All done,’ she said.
Leonardo shook his own head at her. ‘No way,’ he said. ‘I’m not making love to you with a towel on your head. Take it off.’
There was something in his eyes which put paid to the momentary temptation to refuse. Leonardo, when crossed, was nothing like his usual smiling, charming self. His whole face darkened, his shoulders stiffened. No wonder he’d been such a fierce competitor on the ski slopes. He didn’t like to lose. And he didn’t like a woman to say no to him.
‘My hair’s still wet,’ she complained, even as she removed the towel and tossed it away.
‘I like you wet,’ he replied, his good humour restored. As was his sexually charged persona.
Veronica tried to find something saucy to say back but he’d already climbed into the bed beside her, and then he pulled her down under him.
‘None of this, either,’ he said as he took hold of her arms and placed them up above her head on the pillows. He didn’t hold them there, thank God. She would not have liked that. Or maybe she would have. She seemed to like everything he did to her. She certainly liked it when he slid down her body and started making love to her with his mouth. She loved it, just as she’d imagined she would. He knew exactly where to kiss and where to lick. His lips and tongue were knowing enough, aided adeptly by hands which knew how to move and lift her to give that questing mouth better access to all of her.
He shocked her at times, but she never wanted him to stop. The only sounds coming from her open, panting mouth were the gasps and groans whenever she came: three times in as many minutes. She could hardly believe it. Multiple orgasms were unknown to her personally. She’d heard of them but thought they existed only in books and the imagination of fiction writers.
Not so. This was real. This was her, about to come again.
This time, Leonardo stopped just in time, sliding up her body and into her, taking her breath away with the size of his erection. Clearly, doing what he’d been doing had been a huge turn-on for him as well.
She expected to come straight away but, strangely, she didn’t. Maybe she’d run out of orgasms for the day. But slowly, and quite deliciously, his steady rhythm stoked the fire back into her. Her hips began to move with him. He groaned, then whispered her name with the kind of warmth and passion that she’d never heard on any man’s lips. Certainly not Jerome’s. His love-making, whilst skilful, had been on the clinical side.
Suddenly, something broke within her. Something she could not identify. Not a physical thing but something deeply emotional, evoking a sense of bonding which compelled her to take her arms down from the pillow and wind them tightly around him.
‘Leonardo,’ she whispered back.
Only then did she come. And so did he, their bodies surrendering, not in a clash of wild shuddering but in gently rolling spasms which made Veronica want to cry. She did cry. But silently. The spasms seemed to go on for ever, which was just as well, giving her tears time to dry and for some common sense to return.
I have not fallen in love with Leonardo, she told herself sternly. He’s just very good at this. Very, very good. Get a grip, Veronica.
She might have got a grip if she’d had time. And if she wasn’t so exhausted. But sleep beckoned, a dark curtain having already fallen over her mind. Her body soon followed. She didn’t see Leonardo frown down at her as he withdrew. She couldn’t worry about his body language, which spoke of concern and confusion.
* * *
Leonardo lay beside her, unable to sleep, which was unusual for him after so much sex. He was troubled. The thought that he liked Veronica too much troubled him. Way too much.
Because let’s face it, Leonardo, he thought to himself, what you felt when you made love to Veronica just now far surpassed anything you’ve ever felt before. It had been more than sex. It had felt suspiciously like what he’d imagined falling in love would be like.
The problem was he didn’t want to fall in love with Veronica. He didn’t want to fall in love with any woman just yet but, if it had to happen, he certainly didn’t want it to happen with a twenty-eight-year-old Australian girl who carried way too much emotional baggage and who obviously believed he was some kind of man whore.
He wasn’t. Not in his book. Okay, so his girlfriends didn’t last very long. They bored him after a while, as did many aspects of life nowadays. But he only ever had one girlfriend at a time, and not nearly as many as social media suggested. He didn’t cheat on them. Never. He always broke up with them before entering another relationship. Yes, he did have the occasional one-night stand. But only when he was between girlfriends, and only when he was in one of his dark, restless moods.
Leonardo could feel one of those dark moods descending right now. God, but he hated it when he felt like this. So out of control. He’d been out of bloody control ever since he’d met the girl beside him, who was sleeping like a baby with not a worry in the world. Damn her with her violet eyes and her oh, so kissable mouth. And damn Laurence for leaving his villa to her.
Laurence…
If only Laurence were still alive. He’d used to be able to get Leonardo out of his black moods. He’d put on some classical music, pour him some wine and they’d sit on the terrace, if it was summer, or by the fireplace in winter, not always talking, sometimes just listening and drinking. Relaxing.
He supposed he could get up and do that now. But it wouldn’t be the same, doing any of that by himself. It wouldn’t work, either. He needed Laurence’s logical reasoning and pragmatic presence to do the trick. He’d had a way about him, that man. If Leonardo were honest, Veronica had a similar way. She was great company and very easy to talk to. He’d thoroughly enjoyed their sightseeing trip this morning. And their lunch in Sorrento. Unfortunately, the sexual chemistry flaring between them was difficult to ignore, bringing an irritation which he’d struggled to control.
That was what bothered him almost as much as possibly falling in love—his lack of control. Though maybe they were both wrapped up in the same package. He still could not get over not having used protection. What on earth had he been thinking?
But it was done now. And truthfully, it had felt fantastic. Was that what was tricking him, his level of physical pleasure? The sheer intimacy of it all?
Possibly. He liked that thought. It made sense. He probably wasn’t falling in love with her at all. He was just blown away by how great it felt without using a condom. It was many years, after all, since he’d had the pleasure of spontaneous sex. He’d liked that there’d been no need to turn away and risk spoiling the moment. No matter how quick you were, that was sometimes very annoying.
A yawn captured him. Maybe he could sleep now that he’d worked out his emotions.
Leonardo rolled over and put an arm around Veronica. She snuggled back into him till they were like two spoons fitted together. Leonardo smiled with contentment, then fell fast sleep, happy with the thought that she would be there for him when he awoke.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SHE WASN’T.
Leonardo’s eyes opened to an empty space next to him. He stretched, wondering what time it was and how long Veronica had been up. The blinds in the bedroom weren’t down, and he could see that it wasn’t yet night. Reaching for his phone, he checked the time. Not that late. Only six-thirty, and daylight saving meant it would be light for some time yet.
Rising, Leonardo headed for the bathroom where he’d dropped his clothes. Five minutes later, he left the bedroom in search of Veronica. He found her sitting at Laurence’s desk, which was tucked away in an alcove in a corner of the living room. She was dressed too, a mug of steaming coffee at her elbow, her eyes fixed on the computer in front of her.
Laurence’s computer.
‘There you are,’ he said, and she swung round in the
chair to face him.
God, but she was beautiful, he thought. Even without make-up and with her hair up.
‘I didn’t want to wake you,’ she said coolly, and picked up her coffee, ‘So I had a shower in the guest room and got dressed there. I’ve been trying to get into my father’s computer, but it’s password protected.’
‘I know the password,’ he offered.
‘You do?’ She blinked up at him in surprise.
‘He gave it to me when I was staying here with my broken ankle. I couldn’t sleep some nights so I would get up and play poker on the computer. What are you hoping to find?’ he asked as he came over and tapped in the password, which wasn’t exactly obscure. Just Ruth with her birthdate after it. Of course, he had to lean over her shoulder to do that, his nostrils immediately assailed with a faint but tantalising scent. Not perfume. Possibly just shower gel.
‘Anything, really,’ she said, and quickly stood up. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Si. Grazie.’
‘Why are you speaking Italian all of sudden?’ she demanded to know.
He shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’
‘No. Yes. I mean, I understand a few words, but I’d prefer you to use English.’
‘Fine.’ He smiled at her then sat down in front of the computer. ‘Let’s see if I can find anything enlightening for you.’ He brought up Laurence’s email account and tapped in the same password, guessing that it would be the same.
It was. Of course, there was a whole heap of spam, sent after Laurence’s demise. He deleted it all then backtracked to the days before Laurence had left for London. One email jumped out at him. It was from a private investigation firm in Sydney and was accompanied by a PDF. Leonardo downloaded it, frowning as he began to read, his frown deepening by the time he’d read the report, which wasn’t overly long, but which included an attached photograph.
‘I remembered from lunch that you liked your coffee black and strong,’ Veronica said as she set a steaming mug down on the desk next to him. ‘Have you found something?’