She indicated the glass bottle and suddenly realised it was, in fact, empty. Damn.
“Please,” Vito spoke quietly, “let me get you a drink. Sit, please.” And he turned smoothly and went to the kitchen area across the open workspace, returning quickly with a glass of water. “Are you in a lot of pain?” he asked, his voice sounding like he had smoked forty a day for forty years.
“Oh, no. Not really. Well, a bit, I suppose.” Naomi fumbled with her words, which was most unlike her.
She popped the pills, drank and looked at him directly, making eye contact, something she rarely did with any man other than Nick. But Mr Maloney had been kind and she’d been reared to be polite.
“My back sometimes aches when I’ve been sitting for too long,” she explained easily.
Gosh, his eyes are a lovely shade of grey, like an early morning mist – the thought came unexpectedly.
“You need to take more breaks and stretch some when you have the time,” he advised sagely. “I got back problems a few years ago and Mr Nick sent me to a bone doc in New York who did some variety of manipulations and now I’m as right as the rain.”
He stepped back as she stood and picked up her bag again, and began walking with her towards the lift.
“You don’t need to come with me,” she said quickly.
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
And he ushered her into the small space, pressed the Foyer button and clasped his hands loosely in front as if he didn’t have a care in the world while they waited for the doors to close.
Naomi gulped and found her breaths starting to come faster. She hated confined spaces at the best of times and only took the lift on a daily basis to test herself. She knew it was irrational so was determined not to let it beat her. However, if there was ever anyone actually in the lift she took the stairs or waited for the next one.
Before she could make a dash for it, the doors closed and they were alone. She and this mountain of man she barely knew. In this very small moving box. Her head told her that Nick would never hire anyone who wasn’t completely trustworthy, but her heart was bumping along pretty rapidly in happy ignorance of the head part. Thank goodness it was a really short ride down, but Naomi felt every second.
The doors opened and Mr Maloney gestured with his hand for her to precede him. She almost lost her footing in her eagerness to escape the confinement and promptly bumped straight into a man standing waiting for his car.
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sor—” She broke off when she realised it was her boss clasping her arms to stop her from falling.
“Hey there, are you all right?”
Nick held her steady but his eyes swung to his other employee, who remained impassive. Like a tree.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just tripped over my own feet,” she apologised. “You know how I can be.”
She was so embarrassed and just wanted to get outside and catch her bus for the journey home. But Naomi wasn’t a top PA for nothing and saw the look Nick was directing towards his bodyguard, for want of a better term. None of this was Mr Maloney’s fault and she certainly wasn’t about to let him get in trouble with their boss because of her peculiarities.
She took a breath and turned to the giant. And pasted a smile to her face.
“Thank you so much for your escort this evening. I really appreciated it. Goodnight.”
Oh, stupid woman, she instantly thought. I shouldn’t have said that – it sounds so . . . misleading, as if I hired him as an escort – for a job. For me. Agh!
Too late. The damage was done.
Naomi kept her fake smile in place as she turned to Nick to say goodnight to him and realised he wasn’t alone. Standing a few paces behind him was a beautiful young woman dressed in blue and silver, chestnut hair soft about her face, which right now held a concerned and quizzical look. Well now, she thought. That’s going to be on the agenda tomorrow morning. She threw Nick a “don’t think you got away with this” glance and hurried towards the front doors.
Vito Maloney, having stepped out of the lift to allow the others in, watched the retreating figure hurry out into the night. Her small, compact body, dressed simply in a navy skirt and pale blue blouse, caused his gut to tighten. As it always did. Whenever, that was, he allowed himself to really look at her. He sighed deeply and turned away to go home to his empty, quiet apartment.
Well, this is a new experience, Caro thought, and I have no idea, not a single clue, how to behave. So what would Ali do? No, bad image. Ali would have ripped Nick’s clothes off by now. Would have him plastered to the lift wall as she had her way with him. What would Frankie do? The old Frankie, not the new “I get to have wild sex as often as I want” Frankie. She’d be decorous and sophisticated, charming yet mysterious.
Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
Caro’s eyes darted to meet Nick’s in the silence of the lift. He leaned casually against the wall farthest from her, his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. He watched her steadily, unwaveringly. It was kind of hot. She was used to a certain amount of male attention and knew she was attractive, in her own way. Not Frankie gorgeous, but then not many were.
She’d had many offers of all kinds of dates but rarely went. It was just too complicated. She’d promised, now that Toby was in secondary school, that she’d pay attention to her personal life. She couldn’t deny it – she was lonely. At some stage in the future she wanted a relationship, a proper one. But now? Now, she just wanted sex.
She lowered her eyes, as the heat from his was almost overwhelming. Her skin felt oversensitised and her pulses were throbbing faster than usual. Hard not to, really. She’d defy any full-blooded woman – no, scrap that – any woman with a heartbeat not to feel the attraction of this man. She worked with some very attractive, charming, handsome even, intelligent males at work. But not one of them, in all her years at the college, had made her feel like she wanted them.
Not one.
All this fella had to do was ask her for a drink and she was willing putty in his hands. Hopefully.
The doors swooshed open and Nick pushed away from the wall, his broad shoulders flexing inside his jacket. The hallway was dim and discreet. Only one door appeared to be in front of them and he gestured for Caro to exit the lift. He slid a card into the door’s locking device and opened it wide. Once more, he gestured politely and Caro walked ahead of him into a beautiful suite.
A cream marble floor contrasted well with the dark antique furniture. A huge couch and three armchairs covered in what appeared to be a duck-egg blue taffeta, a low glass table stacked with books, an open fireplace surrounded by more marble, and the walls, dressed in cream silk, covered with paintings and prints.
Caro was immediately drawn to the large abstract over the fireplace. It was very modern but worked well in this old-fashioned space. As she turned about the room she realised there were open double doors leading to a balcony. Long, sheer curtains billowed gently in the evening breeze, tempting her.
“May I?” she asked Nick, who was standing, hands back in his pockets, watching her reaction to her surroundings.
“Be my guest.”
His voice, deep and dark, sent shivers down her spine.
He moved silently across the room to a silver bucket on a stand with two glasses by its side. He lifted a bottle of champagne from the ice, opened it expertly and poured two flutes. Following her onto the balcony, he handed her one.
“This suite is beautiful – are you here on holidays?” Caro asked, taking the glass.
“I keep . . . ” he hesitated. “I keep a suite of rooms here for business reasons,” he explained casually. “To a memorable evening.” He tipped his glass to hers in a clink and watched as she sipped.
“The view must be stunning from here.” Caro turned and moved to the decorated wrought-iron railings.
Wow. Just wow.
The city of Rome is beautiful, few would deny that, and Caro was already hooked. But seeing it from about six-stories high with
a panorama from a slight hill, well, it was magical. Various domes and building balustrades were lit up and cast a lovely honey tone to the night sky. It was mid-October and though not cold was getting a little chilly in the evenings. The heat of the summer sun was long gone but it was pleasant to be outside, sipping truly delicious champagne and anticipating, waiting, wondering. It was exciting, the not knowing, and just a little weird, too. She flipped her eyes back to Nick’s and saw that, yes, he was studying her again.
“What?” she asked with a laugh. “Have I grown horns?” She hoped she used the correct word – maybe she’d asked if she’d grown something entirely unsuitable.
Nick didn’t say a word. He put down his drink on a side table, reached over and took hers, put it down and took a step forwards. He reached up and traced a path down the side of her face, gentle fingers just brushing her skin. Changing the angle, he moved his thumb back and forth across her full lower lip.
Her breath caught at the instant zing of pleasure. Before she could say or do anything, he stepped forwards, his other hand moving swiftly behind her head to hold her steady as his mouth replaced his thumb in a kiss. He held her jaw, almost cupping her throat, and kissed her.
And kissed her.
Dear God, was all Caro could think, yes, please.
His lips were firm, demanding but not yet invasive. Just long, slow kisses of lips to lips. She could feel the heat of his body as they touched from mouths to feet. He planted his feet on either side of hers, leaning his hard, strong body into hers. And she felt every inch of him. Her breasts were flattened against his torso and she could feel the thumping of hearts but had no idea if they were his or hers.
Keeping one hand at her head to angle her better, his other arm went around her back, pulling her even closer. His mouth continued the pressure, slowly allowing his tongue to taste her lips and then using it to pry them apart.
He didn’t need to do much prying. Caro opened to him eagerly.
Oh! sweet divine, he totally knew what he was doing with his tongue.Tasting, twisting, sucking. Invading.
Giving in to the sheer pleasure, she kissed him back, her tongue dancing with his, a very hot tango. He groaned and his response was an aphrodisiac all of its own. Knowing her kisses, her response, were turning him on was so powerful.
She pushed her hands between them, up beneath his jacket, warm against his shirt. Slowly, she entwined them around his body, feeling every ripple of muscle beneath the fabric. As the moment continued, she added to her already awakened senses by dragging her hands up and down his hard back, feeling every inch.
He pressed closer. Tearing his mouth from hers, he kissed her jaw, down her neck, angling into the join at her shoulder. Licking her skin before he kissed it, teasing, tantilising . . . God, that felt amazing.
Caro could feel her stomach reacting to his touch – tight little twists and tumbles darted about inside and began their descent.
Pushing her cardigan off her shoulders, he smoothed his hands down her arms, his mouth never leaving her skin. She reached up and returned the favour, shoving his jacket from his strong shoulders and letting it slide down to a heap on the balcony floor.
“You feel so good,” Nick whispered huskily. “You taste so good.”
He continued manoeuvring her rather adroitly back into the hotel suite. Caro wanted to say the same to him – he felt amazing and, when she kissed his neck, tasted amazing, but she was uncertain with this kind of thing. This was new to her and she didn’t really know what was her natural. But no one had ever accused her of being a slow learner and since she’d never see Nick again after tonight, she figured she may as well let loose. She could be whoever she wanted to be – wild Caro, sexy Caro, femme fatale Caro – okay, maybe that was a step too far, but still . . .
“You taste pretty damn good yourself,” she said, dragging her teeth along his jaw, loving the slightly rough texture and clean smell of him.
She became aware of the light and shade changing about her and realised he’d walked her into a beautiful bedroom with a magnificent bed angled into a corner. Still holding her within his grasp and placing kisses along her collarbone, he reached behind her and slowly drew down her zipper. The noise of it, the scrape of metal against fabric, sounded so sensuous to Caro, as if it were heralding something special.
God, she hoped so.
Taking a risk like this was huge. Having sex with a stranger, a hook-up with a one-night stand? That was someone else’s modus operandi, not the safe, boring, dependable mother of a teenager, Caro. But tonight, all bets were off – this was her chance to be free and by God, she was taking it with everything she had.
She could feel him shaping her shoulders with his rather excellent hands as he slid her dress downwards and she was grateful for her penchant for lacy undies. He seemed pretty grateful too, because he let out a groan while sliding his finger under the lace of the full cup to her right breast. His touch burned and her skin pebbled in response – her nipples hardening to the cool evening as much as the feel of his caress.
Christ, she could see how people did this. It felt amazing – empowering, even. Having some person, whose family, schooling, financial status . . . hell, whose baggage didn’t matter a damn, moan and groan in anticipation of you – yeah, bloody amazing. Boldly, she reached up to undo his tie and open his shirt buttons one by one.
“Are you sure?” Nick asked quietly and she blinked in surprise.
Was she? Damn straight, she was.
“Yes,” she whispered back, owning this moment, “I’m sure.”
She felt they were both in charge – she of him and he of her. Odd that it felt like that, but again with no baggage, femme fatale Caro was being unleashed and she was running with it.
Nick reached for a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a condom. This was real. Game on.
Oh! Oh, oh shit. Dear. God.
What had she done?
Caro turned her head and gaped at the specimen of manhood stretched out beside her in the large bed.
Naked.
Face down.
Sprawled, really, his arms up and curved under the pillow, forcing his shoulders to do amazing things, all sculpted and chiselled. He had the body of a Roman god statue, but he’d definitely not been a statue last night. Except for the all-important body part. That part? Very statuesque. She swallowed with a suddenly dry throat, her head swivelling back to stare blindly at the ceiling.
Images – memories, really – flooded in. Hot, sweaty, loud – things had happened here in this bed, when she’d fully and, yes, enthusiastically, participated. She gingerly lifted the sheet to scan down her very naked body, just checking all the bits were still there because, wow! they’d certainly been put through quite the athletic workout. She could feel a film of sweat cooling against her skin and shivered slightly. It had been well earned, that sweat, and Jesus! it had felt good.
Caro carefully pulled down the light covering and slid towards the edge of the bed. Swinging her feet over, she sat upright and stilled abruptly as the man next to her mumbled something in his sleep. No, he remained comatose, for now. She had to get out before he woke – there was no way she was doing a morning “walk of shame” with this sex buddy.
No way.
Standing upright, she glanced around in the predawn near darkness, looking for her underclothes. She located her bra flung over the arm of an antique chair, and the image of Nick unclasping it and tossing it aside as he used his mouth and hands on her was staggering. God, he knew how to use his mouth, and not just kissing – he could taste and feast on her breasts till she was begging for more! He’d licked and nibbled his way down her torso having tossed her on the silken sheets and his tongue had felt like it was discovering secret places she hadn’t been aware of before. The undersides of her breasts, the dip of her navel, the arch of her hip, the soft inside of her thigh . . .Crikey!
Caro reached for her lace panties and tried to block out the feel of Nick slowly peeling them down
her legs, kissing her tenderly, roughly, hotly – all the way down to her ankles. The backs of her knees, for goodness’ sake – who knew?
And then they’d done it all again. And, God help her, again.
Quickly hoisting the scraps of lace up over her bottom, she plucked her dress from the end of the bed and slid into it as quietly as possible. Not bothering to zip up, she tiptoed to the balcony to retrieve her cardigan and shoes. A gentle breeze was blowing the floor-length curtains and the fading moonlight cast a cool glow across the bed.
Damn, that man was gorgeous. The sheet was twisted about his waist. Unfortunate, that, Caro thought as she moved soundlessly towards the door. One more peek of that body would have set her up for the day. Nah, forget that, for the long weeks ahead.
He mumbled something else in his sleep and a flicker of a memory caught in Caro’s mind. Shaking it off, she left the room, the sound of her own groans as she’d come apart under his excellent handiwork loud in her ears.
The lift down to the ground floor was thankfully absent of any piped music and Caro leaned her forehead weakly against the mirrored wall. Her lips looked swollen still, her skin held a rosy blush. She hadn’t had sex like that since . . . since never. Was it the rush of a stranger? The talent of the man himself? She knew she’d never diss Italian lovers again. Whatever, Caro’s body had reacted to him from the second she’d seen him that morning and that kind of lust usually only happened to other people, certainly not to her.
She closed her eyes and relived the feel of him thrusting into her very willing body, the speed and accuracy of every movement, every touch. His arms supporting his long, lean body, angling so just the exact amount of pressure against her heat pushed her over the precipice, to fall into a spasm of release. God.The bliss of letting go, the sound of her gasps, the rasp of his ultra sexy voice, the . . .
Roman Holiday Page 4