Andrea unbuttoned his shirt, giving her a smouldering look that made her insides quiver with longing. ‘Have you ever skinny-dipped before?’
‘No.’ Izzy slipped one shoulder strap down. ‘I seem to be having a few firsts with you.’
He removed the rest of his clothes and came to help her with hers. His hands were warm and sensual as they slid the other strap off her shoulder, the dress falling into a silken pool at her feet, leaving her with nothing but her knickers. His eyes devoured her naked breasts, his hands cupping them so gently it made every pore of her skin react. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, teasing them into tight buds, the flesh aching and tingling with a torturous longing. He brought his mouth down and stroked his tongue over the upper curve of each breast, his teeth taking each nipple in a soft bite that made her spine shiver. His tongue swirled around her nipple, a warm soothing stroke that sent a shockwave straight to her core. He peeled her knickers away and they too fell to her feet and she stepped out of them, desperate to press her body as close to his as possible.
The contact of his hard male body against hers made her womb contract with need—a tight, aching need that begged to be assuaged. It moved through every part of her body in a rolling tide, making her heart race and her breathing quicken. No one had ever made her feel desire like this. So powerful. So consuming. So enthralling.
Andrea bent down in front of her, bringing his mouth to her most intimate place. She placed her hands on his head to anchor herself, preparing for the tumultuous storm his lips and tongue promised. Izzy gave herself up to the sensations as his mouth continued its erotic exploration, the tension building in her body until finally it could take no more. She shattered around his tongue, gasping and shuddering as the ripples of pleasure coursed through her in cascading waves.
Andrea rose to gather her close, his hands warm on her hips, his eyes backlit with desire. ‘I love how you come apart when I do that. You’re so responsive.’
Izzy reached up to touch his mouth with her finger. ‘I never thought I’d ever feel comfortable enough to let anyone pleasure me like that.’ She touched his lower lip and sighed. ‘I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else...’
Something flickered in his gaze as quick as a jab of pain. But then his gaze relaxed but somehow his smile didn’t match. ‘I promised you a swim. Let’s do it.’ He stepped away from her and dived into the deep end of the pool, his lean athletic body slicing through the water, sending rippling waves to the edges, not unlike the ones he had sent through her body moments earlier.
Izzy stood on the edge of the pool, hesitant to dive because there was no way she could do it as expertly as Andrea. She watched him swim up and down, privately envying the way he executed deft tumble turns at each end as if he were at an Olympic training session. He reminded her of her brother, Hamish, who had been an excellent swimmer. But the swimming gene hadn’t come her way, which was another thing her father had berated her for, to such a degree she hadn’t swum in years.
Andrea surfaced and flicked his wet hair back with one of his hands. ‘Come on. It’s not cold.’
Izzy went to the shallow end where the steps were and cautiously entered the water, only going waist-deep. The water was like warm silk against her naked skin, making her aware of every inch of her body. ‘I’ll just have a paddle up this end,’ she said.
He joined her at the shallow end, his gaze searching hers. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t you like swimming?’
Izzy gave a self-conscious grimace. ‘I’m not a great swimmer. Hamish was but I didn’t share his natural talent.’
Andrea frowned. ‘Did your father make unhelpful comparisons?’
She marvelled at his ability to read between the lines whenever she spoke of her childhood. ‘It took all the enjoyment out of it to have my father standing by the side of the pool telling me what I was doing wrong.’
His hands took hers, his expression gentle with concern. ‘He was a hard taskmaster. He expected perfection and got frustrated when people didn’t measure up. But he should never have treated you like that. No one should be treated like that and especially not a child.’
Izzy moved closer to him, her arms going around his waist, her pelvis in intimate contact with his. ‘Thank you for understanding. I know it must be hard to see my father with new eyes. I know he was good to you. He was good to a lot of people. He just wasn’t able to be the sort of father I needed.’
He brushed her forehead with his lips. ‘I’m grateful for what he did for me. But I wasn’t as close to him as he made out. I wasn’t close to anyone.’ He let out a brief sigh and added, ‘I’m still not.’
What about me? Her unspoken question seemed to hover in the air between them. Didn’t he feel close to her? She had told him stuff she had told no one. He had shared things about his past she was sure he had not revealed to anyone else. They had shared their bodies with such breathtaking intimacy. What would it take for him to lower his guard enough to feel close to her?
Izzy stroked her hands over the small of his back, feeling his tense muscles relax at her touch. ‘I guess it would be hard to be close to anyone after being deserted by your mother,’ she said. ‘How could you trust anyone after that?’
His lips moved in the semblance of a smile and his gaze went to her mouth. ‘Hey. I thought we came down here to swim?’
Izzy gave him a sultry smile. ‘Do you really want to swim?’
His eyes darkened with desire and he brought his mouth closer to hers. ‘Not right now.’
* * *
The next two weeks passed in a sensual haze that Izzy never wanted to come out of even though she knew at some point she must. It was always lurking at the back of her mind that none of this was going to last—that this dream of living with Andrea at his gorgeous villa on the Amalfi coast was temporary. No amount of Izzy’s words to the contrary could convince his housekeeper, Gianna, to believe Izzy’s marriage to Andrea wouldn’t magically turn into the real thing. Gianna smiled knowingly every time she saw Izzy coming out of the master bedroom and Izzy had to remind herself that, no matter how passionate his lovemaking, Andrea was not in love with her and didn’t want their marriage to last any longer than it needed to in order to fulfil the terms of her father’s will.
As for her feelings about him... Izzy sighed and tried not to think about how much she enjoyed being with him. Thinking too much made her want too much. Want things she hadn’t even realised she wanted. Had never wanted until now.
But for now she tried to be content about being in a relationship that was mutually satisfying, not just physically but intellectually. He never made her feel she was a high school dropout. He engaged in debates and discussions with her about current affairs and, while he didn’t always agree with her on every topic, he never made her feel embarrassed or foolishly naïve for holding a different view.
Andrea somehow juggled his demanding work while leaving enough time available to spend time with her. He took her shopping for clothes and took her to wonderful local restaurants where the food was as divine as his company. On Gianna’s days off Izzy took over the cooking and, again mentally apologising to her feminist self, actually relished every moment of preparing meals for him as if she were channelling a nineteen-fifties housewife.
The day before they were to leave for Andrea’s business colleague’s wedding in Venice, Izzy woke during the night to the familiar twinge of period pain. Not wanting to wake Andrea, she quietly slipped out of bed and into the en suite bathroom, where she’d left some tampons in her toiletries bag. There was no paracetamol in her toiletries or her tote bag, so she went downstairs to the kitchen to a first aid cupboard where she had seen Gianna take out a Band-Aid a couple of days ago. She found the tablets and poured herself a glass of water and swallowed the pills, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before they kicked in.
But as she stood looking out at the moonlit view over the coast s
he felt a strange twinge of disappointment. She placed a hand on her cramping abdomen and allowed a thought to slip under the locked door in her brain. The thought of carrying Andrea’s child—a child conceived in love, not just in lust. A child they would raise as a married couple, invested in their relationship, not for material gain or to fulfil the terms of a will but because they truly loved each other and wanted to bring up a family together.
Izzy’s hand fell away from her stomach. She was being silly allowing such a thought to take a foothold. What on earth would she do with a baby? She had never even held one. She didn’t know the first thing about being a mother. She had watched her mother struggle all through her childhood to stand up for herself let alone her children. Who was to say Izzy would be any better at motherhood than she had been at anything else? She hadn’t even completed school. What sort of mother would she make?
‘Cara?’ Andrea’s deep voice shocked her out of her reverie. ‘What are you doing down here at this time of night?’ His gaze went to the paracetamol packet still lying on the kitchen bench. ‘Are you unwell?’ He came up close and placed a gentle hand on her forehead. ‘You do look a little flushed but I don’t think you’ve got a temperature.’
Izzy dipped away from the press of his hand and crossed her arms over her stomach. ‘It’s nothing. I just needed some paracetamol.’
He was still frowning. ‘Do you have a headache?’
‘No.’ She let out a tight breath. ‘Period cramps.’
He placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders. ‘What can I do for you?’
Fall in love with me...
Izzy was terrified he would see the longing in her eyes so kept hers averted. ‘Nothing. I’ve taken the painkillers so it’ll ease soon enough.’
He brought up her chin with his finger. ‘You should have woken me, mio piccolo. Do you often have painful periods?’
Izzy was aware of a thickness building in her throat—emotion that threatened to spill over the sandbags of her self-control. His tender care reminded her of all she would be missing out on once their marriage was over. Who had ever held and comforted her while she had period pain? Who had ever comforted her and looked at her with such concern? She blinked a couple of times and swallowed. ‘Now and again.’ She forced her lips into a stoical smile. ‘I’ll be fine, Andrea. You can go back to bed. I’ll come up in a minute.’
He cradled her cheek with one of his hands, his eyes dark and intense as they held hers. ‘Can I get you a hot pack? I’m sure Gianna has one somewhere.’
‘Please don’t fuss.’ Izzy pulled out of his hold and put some distance between them.
‘Stop pushing me away, Isabella. I’m concerned about you.’ His tone was still gentle but underpinned with a hint of frustration.
Izzy turned to the sink and poured herself another glass of water, chancing a sideways glance at his frowning features. ‘You should be feeling relieved.’
‘Why’s that?’
She turned and waved a hand in front of her belly. ‘I’m not pregnant.’
Something flickered over his face. ‘Were you concerned you might be?’
Izzy shrugged. ‘Not really.’
There was a loaded silence, as if he was thinking through an alternative scenario—the one she had been thinking about moments earlier. Was he imagining her belly growing round and heavy with their child? Was he picturing a dark-haired, dark-eyed baby with chubby limbs and tiny dimpled fingers?
Andrea cleared his throat and sent his fingers through his bed-tousled hair. ‘I’ll get you that heat pack.’ He turned and went to a drawer at the other end of the kitchen and took out a microwavable pack and placed it in the microwave. ‘Go up to bed. I’ll be up with it in a couple of minutes.’
Izzy turned to leave the room, but when she glanced back from the doorway he was standing staring fixedly at the heat pack as he turned on the turntable.
* * *
Andrea took the heat pack out of the microwave and frowned. Izzy was right. He should be feeling relieved. Damn it. He was relieved. Incredibly relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was get her pregnant. A pregnancy would change everything. He didn’t want that. Too many things had already been changed and he was only just keeping control. He was happy with how things were going. They were enjoying their relationship. But that didn’t mean he wanted it to last any longer than the time they’d agreed on. He was keeping his emotions out of this. Wasn’t he? Of course he was. He wasn’t in any danger of blurring the boundaries.
Was Izzy relieved at not being pregnant? He had scrutinised her features but she was good at hiding her feelings. Better than he was at times. She was twenty-five years old. Was she hearing the tick-tock of her biological clock? She had told him she didn’t want kids, but would she change her mind? It was a big issue. A life-changing issue that had to be thought about carefully. It was an issue he had thought about years ago and never revisited. Why would he? He had no knowledge of what a happy family looked like. His ‘family’ had been a disaster from the get-go. His biological father hadn’t stayed around long enough to welcome Andrea into the world. His stepfather—one of a few over the years—had shown no interest in him other than as a punching bag. In theory, Andrea quite liked the idea of a loving and happy family but it was so rarely what happened in practice. He had decided it was easier, less painful, to move through life without the emotional encumbrances of a wife and children.
He refused to think of how lonely it might be once Izzy and he moved on with their lives.
He was used to being alone.
He’d been alone for most of his life.
Andrea took the heat pack upstairs to the master bedroom. Izzy was lying on her side with her head resting on one hand, her other hand pressed against her abdomen. There was an almost wistful cast to her features but when he approached she blinked and gave him a twisted smile. ‘Sorry to have ruined your beauty sleep.’
He sat beside her on the bed and placed the heat pack against her belly. He used his other hand to brush her hair back from her forehead. ‘Have those painkillers kicked in yet?’
‘A little...’
Andrea traced his finger down the curve of her cheek. ‘Will you be okay to come to Venice with me tomorrow for Patrizio Montelli’s wedding?’
She turned over so she was lying on her back and held the heat pack against her stomach. ‘Of course. It’s just a period, Andrea. I’ve been having them every month since I was thirteen.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘And here I was thinking shaving every day was a pain.’
She reached up and touched his jaw with her fingertips, her gaze going to his mouth. The tingle of her touch made every nerve in his body stand to attention. Her fingers were so soft, as light as a dove’s feather brushing his skin, and yet they created a storm of fervent longing in his flesh. He captured her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip as he held her gaze. ‘You should try and get some sleep.’ His voice came out so husky it was as if his vocal cords had been rasped with a steel file.
Her eyes met his, her teeth snagging her lower lip. ‘Andrea?’
He gave her hand a soft squeeze. ‘Yes, cara?’
She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again, her eyes slipping away from his. ‘Never mind...’
He inched up her chin and locked his gaze on hers. ‘Is something troubling you, mio piccolo? The wedding tomorrow? There might be press there but I’ll try and—’
‘No, it’s not about that.’
‘What, then?’
She let out a gust of breath and her mouth moved in a vestige of a smile that looked sad rather than anything else. ‘Nothing... I’m just feeling a little emotional, I guess. Hormones.’ She lowered her gaze and began to pluck at the sleeve of his bathrobe as if she needed something to do with her hands.
Andrea bent down and pressed a soft kiss to the mi
ddle of her forehead. ‘I can sleep in one of the spare rooms if you’d like? It might help you sleep better.’
Her hand gripped his arm. ‘No. Please don’t do that. I...’ She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, her gaze shimmering. ‘Would you just...hold me?’
Andrea slipped into bed beside her and gathered her close, his head resting on the top of hers as she nestled into his chest. Her silky hair tickled his chest and her body curled up so close made him feverishly aware of every place where it touched his. Her breathing slowly settled and he stroked the back of her head as if he were soothing a child. He couldn’t remember a time when he had held someone in such an intimate embrace. Not sexually intimate, but with an emotional honesty he found strangely moving.
A faint alarm bell sounded in his head but he disregarded it. He wasn’t getting too close to Izzy. They were both clear on the rules of their marriage. She was just feeling a little emotional due to hormones and he was comforting her. That was what any decent man would do, right? He wasn’t falling in love with her. That was a line he was never going to cross.
Not with Izzy.
Not with anyone.
Izzy sighed and made a sleepy murmur and then turned over so her back was towards him, her legs in a sexy tangle with his and her neat bottom pushed up against his groin. Andrea wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feel of her spooning against him. His hand held the heat pack to her stomach, and then, when it lost its warmth, he replaced it with his hand. Her stomach was flat but a thought crept into his head—of her belly slowly expanding as it accommodated a baby. His baby. He pushed away the thought but it kept coming back like smoke curling under a locked door. He had never pictured himself as a husband, much less a father. Having children was what other people did. Whenever he walked past families he thought, Not for me. It was an automatic response and he had never questioned it.
But now, holding Izzy in his arms with his hand pressed against her abdomen, he wondered why he was feeling this vague sense of emptiness. Like something was missing from his life but he wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the merger still hanging over him. Once that was sorted he would feel more balanced.
Bound by a One-Night Vow Page 12