Never Say No to a Caffarelli

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Amazing.’ Rafe pushed a finger into her and watched as her face gave a spasm of pleasure. She pushed against him, urging him on, inciting him. He withdrew his finger and flipped her around so her back was to him. He pressed up against her, letting her feel the growing, hot, hard heat of him from behind. She gave a sensuous wriggle against him, searching for him with a sexy little hitch of her hips. It was all he could do to stop from thrusting into her without protection. ‘Wait,’ he said, stalling her with a hand on her left hip. ‘I need a condom.’

  Once it was on he came back to her, sliding his hands down her slim sides, breathing in the aroused fragrance of her. ‘Are you comfortable with this?’ he asked against the back of her neck.

  She gave a little murmur of assent and wriggled against him again.

  Rafe thrust in slowly, gauging her response, trying to keep control when all he wanted to do was explode inside her tight warmth. She urged him on with little kittenish mews that made his skin come up in goose bumps. He started to move, his thrusts going deeper and deeper, then harder and faster. She was with him all the way, her body accepting him, responding to him with such frenzied passion it made him teeter on the edge of control all over again.

  He slipped a hand between her legs to give her that extra friction, and within seconds she was convulsing around him, her cries of pleasure and the tight contractions of her body triggering his own spectacular release. He emptied himself, shivering all over in that blissful aftermath.

  He didn’t want to step away from her and break that intimate connection. He felt his erection subsiding but knew it wouldn’t take long to get it going again. His desire for Poppy was increasing rather than abating. Usually by this stage in a relationship he was getting a little restless, even a little bored. But with Poppy every time was so completely different, more exciting, more satisfying....more addictive.

  Her glib comment about making the most of her time with him had annoyed him. He wasn’t ready to commit to anything without some serious thought. Choosing a life partner was a big deal. He had seen too many marriages come unstuck because they had been forged out of lust rather than common sense.

  He was a planner, a strategist, not an impulsive fool. He was not at the mercy of his loins.

  At least, not unless he was tied up.

  His conversation with Raoul had got him thinking, however. He didn’t want to end up like his grandfather, having to pay people to be with him in his old age. The thought of a wife who would be a lover, friend and confidante was rather attractive. So too was the thought of children. Only that evening they had walked past a young couple pushing a pram. Rafe had seen Poppy’s covert glance at the cute baby inside. It had got him thinking of how beautiful she would look if she were pregnant. With her coltish limbs and ballerina-like figure, she would be all baby. He hadn’t realised how sexy a pregnant women looked until now... Or, at least, how sexy Poppy would look.

  What are you thinking? You’ve known her how long—two weeks?

  He had to get a grip on himself. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her to Paris. It wasn’t called the city of love for nothing.

  Love.

  That was one four-letter word he didn’t like to think about too much.

  Rafe moved away from her and disposed of the condom. She turned and looked at him in that coy way of hers he found so incredibly endearing. She had played the game of temptress with stunning aplomb, but deep down she would always be an old-fashioned girl. He felt a string being plucked deep inside him as she picked up her dress and used it like a shield against her nakedness. ‘You don’t have to hide yourself from me, Poppy.’

  Her teeth bit into her lower lip. ‘I know. It’s just I can’t help thinking you’re probably comparing me to all the other women you’ve slept with.’

  The irony was Rafe could barely recall the names, let alone the features, of his previous lovers. He came over to her and cupped her face in his hands. ‘You are the most beautiful woman I have ever been with—not just in terms of looks, but in terms of who you are as a person. And let me tell you, that’s far more important.’

  ‘Do you really mean that?’

  He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. ‘I mean that.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  POPPY WAS WAITING outside the building where Rafe had his meeting when he came out. He had been expecting her to go shopping for the morning. He had even given her a credit card to use. She had slipped it in her purse without argument, but he had seen the way her lips had pressed together momentarily, as if she had felt compromised in some way. Her reaction had been completely different from any other woman he had been with. Some had barely contained their excitement at being given carte blanche. It was a refreshing change to think Poppy had not taken his generosity for granted.

  She stepped up and slipped her hand into his. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I need a drink.’

  ‘That’s not always the best solution.’

  He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘I know. I hate myself right now. I just sacked a man who has a wife and three little kids.’

  She gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Was there no alternative?’

  Rafe looked down at her heart-shaped face. She was so innocent, so unjaded. ‘He’s got a gambling problem. He’s ripped me off for hundreds of thousands of euros. It’s been going on for a couple of years. I should be pressing criminal charges.’

  A little worried frown pulled at her brow. ‘But you’re not going to do that, are you?’

  He let out a long, jagged breath. ‘No.’

  ‘There are programs, you know? For problem gamblers,’ she said. ‘What about if you offered to sponsor him through one? You could strike a deal with him. He has to do the program while you support his wife and kids, or he has to go to jail.’

  Rafe gripped her by the shoulders and pulling her towards him, pressing a brief, hard kiss to her mouth. ‘You are absolutely brilliant. Do you know that?’

  She gave him a shy smile. ‘I wouldn’t go as far as saying that.’

  He took out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts. ‘Give me five minutes. Once I get this sorted, we are going to have a night to remember.’

  * * *

  It did turn out to be a night to remember, but for all the wrong reasons. Poppy was sitting in an award-winning restaurant with him when Rafe’s phone rang. She had seen him switch it to silent as they entered the premises, but even with the subtle background music the vibration of it was still audible. He gave her an apologetic look and took it out of his breast pocket.

  His face dropped right in front of her. Her heart contracted in panic as she saw the way his features tightened.

  ‘Is he going to make it?’

  Poppy felt her stomach tighten in dread. Whose life was hanging in the balance? Rafe’s face was pinched and white with shock. Was it his grandfather; one of his brothers or one of his friends; one of his employees?

  ‘I’ll get there as soon as I can.’ He ended the call and looked at her, ashen-faced. ‘My brother Raoul has had an accident whilst water skiing at Lake Como. He’s got suspected spinal injuries.’

  ‘Oh no...’

  ‘I have to go to him.’ He got up so abruptly the glasses rattled on the table. ‘I’m sorry about this week. I’ll have to cut it short. I’ll get my Paris secretary to organise your flight home.’

  ‘Can’t I come with you?’ Poppy asked as they left the restaurant. ‘You’ll need support and I can—’

  ‘No.’ The word was clipped and hard, intractable. ‘I want you to fly home. I’ll deal with this on my own.’

  ‘But surely it would be better if you—?’

  He gave her a frowning glare. ‘Did you not hear what I just said? I don’t want you with me. This is about my family. It’s my responsibility, not yours.’r />
  Poppy flinched. ‘I know you’re upset, Rafe, but—’

  ‘But what?’ he asked. ‘You knew this was how it was going to be, Poppy. I never said this was for ever. We both have our own lives. And mine just reared its big, ugly head.’

  Her stomach dropped in despair as they made their way back to their hotel in a taxi. What did this mean? Did he mean it was over between them? She wasn’t brave enough to ask. She sat in a miserable silence, feeling his tension and worry in the air combining with her own in a knotty tangle that seemed to be pulling on her heart.

  When they got back to their hotel, Rafe barely paused long enough to gather his passport and a change of clothes. Poppy felt so helpless. She wanted to reach out to him but it was like an invisible fortress had formed around him. He was closing off from her. She could see it in the tight set of his features, as if something deep inside him was drawing him away from her inch by inch.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked when she could bear it no longer.

  He looked up from his phone after sending another text, one of many he had sent in the last few minutes. ‘What?’ The one word was sharp and his frown deep, as if he had already forgotten who she was and why she was there.

  Poppy felt her heart contract again. ‘I said, is there anything I can do for you while you’re away?’

  ‘No.’ He pocketed his phone, his expression closing off even further. ‘There’s nothing. I have to do this alone.’ He took a short breath and then released it. ‘It’s over, Poppy.’

  ‘Over?’ She looked at him numbly. ‘You don’t really mean that, do you?’

  His look was even more distant. ‘Look, I have to go. My brother needs me. I’ll get Margaret to send you something to make up for this abrupt end to our affair.’

  She drew herself up straighter. ‘Please don’t bother.’

  He reached for his jacket. ‘I’ll be in touch about the dower house. Hopefully we can come to some agreement.’

  ‘I’m not going to change my mind.’

  He gave her another grimly determined look. ‘Nor am I.’

  As he closed the door on his exit, Poppy wondered if he was talking about her, the dower house, or both.

  * * *

  It was terrible seeing his younger brother in intensive care hooked up to monitoring machines and IV drips. Rafe’s stomach was clenched so tightly he could barely breathe. Remy was standing by Raoul’s bedside with a look of such bewilderment on his face it reminded Rafe of the day they had been told their parents had been killed. The weight of responsibility back then was like a leaden yoke on his ten-year-old shoulders. He had realised at that moment he had to take control—that at seven and almost nine his brothers were far too young to understand what had happened and how it would impact on them. He’d had to take charge, to step up to the plate and make them feel someone was looking out for them.

  He felt the same now.

  ‘He’s not going to die.’ Rafe said it without really believing it. It was his role to give assurance, to keep control. To support his brothers and keep the family together no matter what tragedy was thrown at them.

  Remy swallowed convulsively. ‘What if he can’t walk again?’

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Rafe said. He had already thought about it—how it would impact on Raoul, who was the most physically active of them all. His brother would rather be dead than spend his life trapped in a wheelchair; Rafe was sure of it. His job now as his older brother would be to keep him focused on getting as well as he could, to give him hope that he would one day be able to walk again. Medical breakthroughs were happening all the time, admittedly not as quickly as everyone hoped, but it would be crazy to give up hope. He had to keep Raoul positive about a possible recovery.

  He looked at his brother lying so pale and broken. He looked at those long, strong legs lying useless in the hospital bed. How would Raoul cope with never feeling the floor beneath his feet, the sand between his toes...the sensuous feel of a lover’s legs entwined with his?

  It was painfully, torturously ironic that only days ago Raoul had expressed to Rafe over that beer they had shared his desire to settle down. How likely was that going to be now? What if he had no function at all? The doctors had been very cautious in what they had said so far. Perhaps they didn’t know until more scans and tests were done. Spinal injuries could be mild or serious and just about everything in between.

  ‘We’ll have to tell Nonno,’ Remy said, pulling Rafe out of his painful reverie.

  ‘Yes.’ Rafe stood up and took out his phone. ‘He won’t be much help, though. He’ll just blame Raoul for being such an adrenalin-junkie. You were probably too young to remember what he said when Mama and Papa were killed. But I have never forgotten and I’ve never forgiven him.’

  ‘I remember...’ Remy’s expression was shadowed, haunted. He swallowed again, thickly, as if something hard and misshapen was stuck in his throat. ‘Did you know Raoul was thinking about getting engaged to Clarissa Moncrief? I think he was going to propose to her while they were on this trip to the lake.’

  Rafe felt his stomach clench again. He had caught a glimpse of Clarissa in the waiting room earlier. She had darted out to the ladies’ room rather than speak to him. That didn’t bode well in his opinion. Would she stick around for Raoul if things didn’t go according to plan?

  He couldn’t help thinking of Poppy, how she had offered to come with him to support him. He had pushed her away because that was what he always did when he had to focus.

  He missed her.

  It was hard to admit it, but he did. He missed her in a hundred different ways—her smile her tinkling-bell laugh; the scent of her, a mixture of sugar and spice and all things nice.

  But he would damn well have to get used to missing her. He couldn’t take her with him back to Italy once this was sorted out. It had been crazy to think of a future with her, or a future with anyone right now. He had even more responsibilities on his shoulders now. How could he possibly think of settling down when Raoul was in such a state? It would be selfish and crass of him to rub his brother’s nose in it by announcing his own engagement.

  But you love her, you idiot.

  Hang on a minute. His sensible control-centre cut in. What fool would fall in love so quickly? It was lust, that was what it was.

  He should never have got into an affair with her in the first place. He’d been blindsided by lust. It had affected his judgement. It was uncharacteristic of him to act so impulsively and now he had to deal with the consequences. She would find someone else, someone who was more in her world of hearth and home and cute, fluffy dogs.

  But the least he could do was go and see her about the dower house once he got Raoul stabilised.

  That was the plan, the goal.

  Now he had to focus.

  * * *

  ‘I know you told me never to mention his name around here again,’ Chloe said a couple of weeks later. ‘But have you heard how Rafe’s brother doing? There’s been nothing in the press since the first report of the accident. It’s like there’s been a block out on it or something.’

  Poppy let out a painful sigh. ‘I called his secretary a couple of times. There’s still some uncertainty about his mobility. He has some feeling in his legs, so at least that’s a positive. It could be much worse.’

  ‘God, life really sucks sometimes,’ Chloe said. ‘Is Rafe coming back to the manor? Did his secretary say anything about his plans?’

  ‘She said he would be back in a couple of weeks to pick up his things.’

  ‘Don’t give up on him yet,’ Chloe said. ‘Sometimes tragic occurrences make people take stock of their lives. He might want you with him by his side as he helps his brother get through this.’

  Poppy wished she had Chloe’s confidence but she knew Rafe was a lone wolf when i
t came to handling difficult things. It had taken a lot for him to tell her about his concerns with the accountant who had been defrauding him. He had told her even less about his childhood, but she suspected it had been desperately lonely, and that he had been given far too much responsibility for a ten-year-old boy when his parents had died. It had left its mark on him. He was used to dealing with things on his own. He didn’t want anyone to see the heavy toll it took on him.

  Wasn’t that why he had pushed her away?

  He felt responsible for his family. He wasn’t used to sharing that with anyone.

  He worked ridiculously punishing hours to keep his and the family’s business at the top of its game. She sensed his inner drive was not so much about a desire to be super-successful, but more to compensate for the emptiness he felt at being left an orphan so young.

  Was it too much to hope that he would one day see that he didn’t have to do it on his own? That he could share the load with someone who cared about him and his happiness?

  Of course it was.

  She couldn’t go on with this idealistic way of viewing the world that everything would turn out in the end. Life was hard at times and she had to be hard to cope with it.

  It was time to toughen up.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  RAFE DROVE DOWN to the manor three weeks later. He had a pounding headache; he was tired from not having slept properly since he had found out about his brother’s accident. Raoul was a lot better physically—the concussion he’d sustained had gone and his right arm that had been broken was healing well—but it was obvious he was having difficulty accepting his spinal injury. He’d had surgery to decompress the spine but the doctors were still a little cagey about how good his overall recovery would be.

  When Rafe had left the private rehab unit Raoul had been transferred to, his brother had been sitting in his chair staring blankly out of the window. He had barely spoken a word since he’d left the hospital. It was devastating to witness. Rafe couldn’t bear to see his vibrant brother slumped so sullenly and listlessly in that wretched chair.