The Italian

by Beverly Preston

  “Tell me about your sister and her husband,” he requested, his tone endearing and genuine. “Was she a lot like you?”

  “In some ways,” Hope acknowledged in a small voice. “We’re both business minded and incredibly driven. We were determined to have more than what we grew up with. But Faith . . . she was in love with the whole idea of having a family. That’s what she wanted more than anything. And baking of course. She loved to bake. Faith made the best pies in Seattle.”

  Twisting, he placed a kiss to her stomach. “She’s younger, yes? Did she look like you?”

  A surge of relief and pride welled in her chest, flooding her heart with happiness. It was the first time in a while Hope didn’t feel like crying at the mention of her sister. It felt good to talk about her.

  “You wanna see some pictures?”

  “Of course.”

  Hope tapped his shoulder, encouraging him to lift. She hopped out of bed, scurried to the living room, and returned with her phone. Antonio had rearranged a mountain of pillows against the espresso-colored leather headboard and waited for her under the sheets. She climbed into bed and snuggled up to his side.

  They huddled together, scrolling through a few years of birthdays, holidays, and wine tasting events around the world. All of her fondest memories rested right in the palm of her hand. A firm reminder of how fast life passes by. She beamed from head to toe, happiness radiating through her, sharing her captured moments.

  Antonio was totally invested, listening intently to each story, asking a dozen questions. After seeing several selfies of the two of them together, he questioned, “Did you ever talk to Faith about me? About us?”

  “Umm, yeah. I mentioned you a time or two,” she stammered. Hope attempted to hide her face, but humor coated her voice.

  “Oh really?” He laughed. “What did you tell her?”

  “Lots of stuff. Castello Giovanni is my favorite vineyard, so I told her all about this place and the new winery.” Red-faced, she turned to face him. Hope’s hand skimmed over the blankets, cupping his goods. “And how passionate you are . . . about wine.”

  “And what about how passionate I am with you?”

  Nervous laughter rumbled in her chest. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes, okay fine. I told her about you and how wonderful you are and what an amazing lover you are. Whenever I’d come home from traveling, she always wanted details about my trip . . . and Italy was always her favorite.”

  Antonio’s features soured a bit.

  As soon as the words left her mouth, Hope realized that she’d unintentionally lumped him into a category of all of her travels which was by proxy an extension of all of her lovers. And he didn’t like it. Hope cringed inwardly. Words rushed from her mouth in a futile attempt to smooth over the comment.

  “My sister even had a nickname for you.”

  “Just me? Or all the men you’ve dated?”

  “Only you. She and Riley called you the Rebound Man.”

  “Rebound Man? I don’t understand.” A scowl formed a deep crease between his brows.

  “At first, I didn’t either, but apparently she thought all of your breakups worked out rather nicely for me . . . some sort of voodoo magic on our sex-capades.”

  He slid her a particular look, one she’d never seen him make before. Deep thought mixed with shock and truth. He remained silent for a moment. The bedside lamp cast a muted glow on his disheveled features as he pondered the name.

  The tips of his fingers drifted lazily along the edges of the silver fortune cookie dangling from the bangle on her wrist. He lifted her knuckles to his lips.

  “Do you have any pictures of your place in Seattle?” he questioned casually, changing the subject.

  “Yeah,” she murmured reaching for her phone.

  Scrolling through a few files, she caught a glimpse of a particular photo of Antonio, her thumb sped up, flying over the glass screen.

  “Whoa, back up.” He confiscated the phone and scrolled backward, stopping on a photo Hope had taken of him two years earlier in Spain.

  One of her hands flew to her mouth, muffling her gasp, while the other attempted to retrieve the device from his stealthy grip.

  “You have a nude photo of me?”

  Heat rushed up her neck, scorching her cheeks. Averting her face, she gnawed on her thumbnail. “You’re not . . . totally naked.”

  His eyes bulged. “I’m not wearing any clothes. That’s the definition of naked.”

  “You have a coffee cup in your hand,” she demurred.

  “When did you take this?”

  “When we were at that tasting in Spain. Remember that luxurious spa we stayed at? We had our own Jacuzzi and the shower with all the jets and—”

  “I remember Spain, but I don’t recall you taking nude pictures of me.”

  “Actually, it’s just the one photo and you can hardly see anything,” she fibbed, pressing her lips tight to keep from smiling as she inspected the candid image.

  “Clearly, you can see my cock and I had a major hard on.”

  “Yeah,” her voice turned dreamy, “it’s a beautiful picture. The sun had just come up and you were staring out the window looking over the city.”

  “Did you show this to your sister?” he asked starkly.

  “No! No, of course not. This one is just for me.”

  His eyes broadened with interest. Hope realized she’d outed herself.

  “Hmm. Was it good for you? Help you out when you’re missing me?”

  “Yes,” she admitted honestly.

  “I noticed you don’t have any photos of other men.” Satisfaction lingered in his eyes.

  Hope’s gaze fell to his bare chest, doing a mental playback of the years’ worth of photos. The pounding of her heart turned unruly, understanding that Antonio was embedded in her life far more than she’d ever wanted to confess. He’d always been the one she thought of when she was lonely, the lover she liked to share stories about with her sister, the one man she could truly be herself with.

  Her shoulders lifted giving a small cavalier shrug.

  “You like me . . .” His eyes twinkled mischievously, beading into an arrogant grin. “More than the others.”

  “Oh, shut up!” she teased, whacking him with a pillow. Hope flushed from head to toe.

  “Admit it! You do like me more than the other men you date.”

  “I admit nothing.”

  Noses touching, eyes locked, he waited for the tension to vanish from her scrunched shoulders before pressing a long, luscious kiss to her lips.

  “You will,” he assured in a tone so cocky and sure it made her toes curl.

  “IT’S ALMOST NOON,” HOPE STATED groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She padded through the sunlit living room wearing nothing but his white dress shirt from the night before. “Why’d you let me sleep so late?”

  “Buongiorno amore mio.”

  “Good morning, or maybe I should say good afternoon.”

  Antonio lay stretched out in the corner of the tan leather sectional with one foot tucked beneath his bum, leisurely reading a magazine. He looked warm and cozy in a pair of loose knit pants and a worn hooded sweatshirt, unzipped, showing off his well-exercised form. He tossed the magazine aside and held out a hand encouraging her to stretch out beside him.

  “Don’t you have work?” Hope lowered to the pre-warmed sofa, curling up against the hard planes of his chest. “You should’ve woken me up if you needed to leave.”

  “I already got a workout in early this morning and then dropped by the vineyard.”

  “I need to find a yoga instructor.” Her fingertips feathered over his sculpted abs and she continued in a hushed voice. “I promised Faith that I would take prenatal yoga classes with her. I don’t want to let her down.”

  “I might know of a place.” His mouth moved against the top of her head. “You’re never going to disappoint your sister, Hope.”

  A large breath of air expounded from he
r lungs vibrating her lips. She prayed he was right.

  “My schedule is fairly open, so I decided to take a few days off.”

  “Oh.” Hope couldn’t contain the sappy grin from spreading across her lips. “What are you doing while you’re off for the next few days?”

  “You.” In one swift move, she was toppled by two hundred pounds of playful male. Antonio hovered above her, stomachs touching, arms locked straight, and palms sinking into the cushion near her head, as he nipped and nibbled along a sensitive area on her neck and collarbone.

  A flutter of movement danced inside her belly. Her eyes popped wide. Hope’s hands instantly cradled her stomach. “Whoa! Did you feel that?”

  Moving at lightning speed, Antonio rose to his knees. “Am I too heavy? Did I hurt you? I thought I was holding my weight.”

  “No, no, it’s not you.” She shook her head, adamantly, palming his face in a soothing fashion. Returning her attention down below, Hope splayed her fingers wide, embracing the small bump below her navel as if holding a basketball. “I think it just moved.”

  “The baby?”

  She nodded. Eyes bright and bulging, Antonio rested his hands on top of hers. They remained perfectly still . . . waiting.

  “Maybe it was just my stomach growling.”

  “What did it feel like?”

  “Kind of like a goldfish swimming inside my stomach.” Her hand mimicked the swish of a fishtail. “Or maybe butterfly wings.”

  “Should I take you to the doctor?”

  “No, it wasn’t painful. Just . . . odd.”

  Antonio grabbed a throw pillow and tucked it behind her head. Adjusting his position, he sat back on his haunches between her legs, staring at her belly. Hope pressed on one side then the other, gently nudging.

  “Anything?”

  Her gaze tipped upward, connecting with his. The concern in Antonio’s smoky greys warmed her to the core. “No.”

  Big, wide smiles eased over their faces as a round of nervous excitement pinged between them. His gaze drifted to the valley between her exposed breasts and below. He parted the open dress shirt and leaned forward, the heat of his breath fell on her chilled skin with a sweet burn, covering her with goose bumps. His tongue swirled around her nipple, licking and sucking, plumping the erect bud to perfection before moving to the other. His hands settled on her knees, thumbs turning slow circles over her inner thighs.

  The tiny bits of doubt and insecurities regarding her new shape that still cluttered her mind only made her more determined. Feelings of inadequacy weren’t typically in her DNA. Hope let her knee fall to the side. The mood of seduction and sensual power urged her on. She wanted to turn him on. She wanted to drive him wild. Hope caressed her breasts, her hands coasted down her torso, past her hips, sensually playing with a thin strip of trimmed brown hair before settling her fingers on each side of her wet pussy.

  His eyes glazed over with lust, lost to the vision laid out before him. His voice nothing more than a strained whisper. “Tell me, bella, what do you want . . . to do on my days off?”

  She was tempted, so tempted, to touch herself. She knew it would bring him pleasure, but Hope wanted more. Every nerve ending in her body yearned for the intimate connection they’d shared the night before, but she couldn’t find the courage to say what she wanted. In truth, she didn’t know how to explain it. The connection she experienced reached far beyond her vocabulary and her emotional limits.

  Hope dipped her middle finger into the glazed softness, bringing it to his mouth. Reverting back to the language she was more comfortable with, she purred, “I want you to taste me.”

  A hum of desire coiled in his throat, sucking the sweet essence from her finger. His hungry groan impacted her heart with a heavy jolt of awareness. She needed more, so much more. Hope’s eyes softened in an attempt to convey her feelings. Pushing past the twinge of nerves rocketing through her veins, she forced herself to push beyond her comfort level. She curled her fingers into the zippered edges of his sweatshirt, bringing his face close to hers. Her heart pounded so fast, she could barely hear the words coming out of her mouth.

  “Antonio?”

  “Si’?” he questioned. Her lingering hesitation only invigorated him. “Bella, tell me. I’ll do anything for you.”

  “I want . . . I need you to make me feel like I did last night. It was so good. So incredible.” Sunlight cast through the open shutters, stray beams warming her skin, yet every part of her body quaked on the inside. “I want you to make love to me.”

  Antonio contemplated for a moment, understanding sinking in. The words were already out, there’d be no taking them back. Hope thought she witnessed a flash of challenge in his eyes and her heart began to thrash wildly like she’d just run a marathon. Staring at her with glazed concentration, he stripped off his sweatshirt. She needed to close her eyes to relax, but refused to look away from the dark ring surrounding the billowy silvery clouds gathering in his eyes.

  “You want me to make love to you.” His tone more declaration than question. Reading her distress, he gave a small sigh, teasing, “And here I thought you were going to ask me to help negotiate the purchase of a new car.”

  Her heart swelled, grateful for his empathy. The man understood her well enough to know that the topic of feelings wasn’t open for discussion.

  “I definitely need to get rid of the rental, but I think I can handle the negotiations.”

  Lacing his long fingers though hers, he lifted them above her head and grinned, “Scusami, what was I thinking. I hate to admit it, but you can close a deal better than I can. However, I speak much better Italian.”

  “True,” she panted, squirming beneath him. “Maybe tomorrow. I think your calendar is full today.”

  Antonio dragged a kiss over her lips, swollen and tender from the dozens of kisses he’d blessed her with the night before. The fresh, spicy scent of his body wash invaded her senses as he buried his clean-shaven face in the curve of her neck.

  “Maybe the day after tomorrow.” One dark brow lifted to a point right before he descended down her body. Antonio took his time, deliberately seeking out the intimate places he’d visited just hours before. By the time he reached the small harbor between her thighs, her body was flooded with sensations, and her head twisted side to side, thrashing against the cushion.

  The slow burn of his breath swept over her smooth flesh. She drew a long pull of air into her lungs and waited.

  “Is this what you need?”

  “Ah, yes,” she moaned.

  He licked into the intimate channel with delicate strokes of his tongue, marauding and flicking the furled flesh. His sensual exploration, deep and sure, went on and on until she thought she might die of pure need. Wetness spilled from the corner of her eyes. She gasped, crying out for him by name. Reaching down, her fingers tangled in his thick dark hair, holding him to her as spasms tumbled through her and she began to tip. Voluptuous convulsions jerked through her center, the pleasure was overpowering in its force, and he hadn’t even touched her.

  Hope pulled him upward with limp arms. He wiped the wetness from his mouth with the back of his hand before hauling both of them to their feet. She begged don’t stop I’m not done but he said neither am I and kissed her feverishly.

  The white shirt which had clung to her damp back now pooled on the floor at her feet. Locking his fingers through hers, he lowered to a sitting position on the sofa and she followed. Climbing onto his lap, she straddled his long muscular legs with her knees as he sought her lips, taking her quiet whimpers into his mouth.

  Instinctively, she wrapped her hand around the hard-sprung length jutting between them and stroked from base to tip, positioning him beneath her. Tearing her lips from his, she dropped her gaze wanting to witness the thick penetration, but her view was blocked by her ever-growing tummy.

  A sound of frustration reverberated in her throat. Antonio lifted her knee and then the other, spreading them wider, planting her feet beside h
is hips. He guided her hands to the back of his neck, clutching her around the waist, positioning her so she could see.

  “Better?” he murmured.

  The sight before her was nothing less than glorious.

  “Umm, yesss.” The words whooshed from her lungs as the broad tip of him penetrated her entrance. She lowered onto the shaft, tightening around the thick intrusion. “I love the way you feel inside me.”

  His thick dark lashes spiked against his cheeks in the crescent shape of a half-moon as he watched their intimate connection. Silky wetness coated his cock. “So wet. So beautiful.”

  Antonio circled his arms around her waist, their torsos melded together. A thin layer of perspiration, slick and slippery, gathered between their bodies. The softness of her breasts bounced against his solid chest, hurling her into heaven. Riding the heat, her hips rotated in a drum-beat rhythm, the slickness and friction driving her tempo. He was all around her, everywhere, slowly building the intimacy with each rhythmic motion. In that moment, the rest of the world disappeared. There was nothing but the sound of their labored breathing, soft pleasurable moans, and rocketing heartbeats.

  The muscles of her legs began to quiver. He grasped her bottom, lifting her up and down with her own momentum, penetrating her with steady thrusts.

  Hope dragged her hands through his damp hair and clasped her hands to the side of his face. Their gaze met and held. Every molecule she possessed surged forward into an incredible high.

  “Antonio.” Stunned by the gravity of emotions she’d never experienced, his name crooned from her throat in a hoarse moan. Her nails dug into his shoulders as long luscious spasms tumbled through her.

  “I know, bella. So good . . . so fucking good,” he groaned in painful delight as he blew, exploding inside her.

  Hope’s head slumped forward on his damp shoulder. She dragged her mouth over the shaking muscles, laying down traces of love bites, licking and kissing his salty skin. Antonio angled his chin upward. The moist heat of their labored breathing fanned across their faces.