Roman Holiday

by Pamela G Hobbs

  She reached for the brandy.

  Caroline looked amazing. Her hair was tied off her face in some clever female way he’d never understand and while he liked it soft about her neck, Nick could see her features really clearly this way. And they were worth the look. Still not beautiful in any classical way, like his most recent ex, Melanie, she exuded sex appeal – at least to him. The scarf-type thing tying back her rich brown hair let the ends of it flow over her shoulder, edging towards her breasts. And yes, his eyes were focused on her breasts. Well, why wouldn’t they?

  He glanced up to catch her eye but she seemed blissfully unaware as she chatted animatedly to the owner of the gallery. His idea to bring her here was a hit. She’d waved the invitation excitedly at him as he’d appeared next to the podium at the lecture hall. The last few stragglers were just exiting as he’d entered, cross that he’d missed the lecture, but he’d had a call from his uncle and it had gone on longer than anticipated.

  “You did this, didn’t you?” she’d asked breathlessly, displaying the card for him.

  “I thought you might enjoy it,” Nick had answered casually.

  And here they were. She was in her element. Delighted with the exhibition, and even more delighted to be introduced to the owner and collector himself.

  Him, not so much. Normally Nick liked these openings. He liked spotting potential artists or recognising old favourites. He didn’t always purchase, of course, but he had a pretty decent budget for artworks and he always liked to have the final say – or be the one to buy. Tonight, he couldn’t wait for the damn thing to end.

  Her dress was simple. Or at least it pretended to be. Ha!That designer needed a raise in pay, that was for goddamn sure. It was blue – cobalt, maybe. And was wrapped around her body diagonally, offering the merest hint of cleavage, and tied at the side. Tempting. Alluring. And it curved up towards the tie so that an extra bit of skin was on offer every time she walked. Walk, swish, open. Walk, , open. Yes, there it was, her soft inner thigh – just a hint, mind you, but enough to dry his throat and have him reach for a full champagne flute.

  She wandered the gallery with Ricardo, the owner, and Nick was happy to watch from a discreet distance. The curve of her jaw looked so tempting as she angled her head to the side to contemplate an unusual sculpture that Ricardo was extolling. A laugh burst from her and he was instantly reminded of that morning in the café when he’d first noticed her. A week ago?What the hell had happened to him? He was lusting after this woman, one he barely knew, and right now he was imagining how he’d tug on that side tie and let the fabric fall open. He’d slide his hands up and over her luscious breasts. He’d . . .

  “Nikki! Darling!”

  A familiar voice echoed across the space and his stomached clenched. Shit. What was Mel doing here? And there he was, her new toy boy, hanging on her arm. Okay, he wasn’t a toy or even a boy, so that scenario didn’t fit at all. Lorenzo Bruno was a good twenty-five years older than Melanie and judging by the smug smiles on both their faces, their deal was working out just fine.

  Her blonde hair was tumbling down over her shoulders and the scarlet second skin of a dress left little to the imagination. Strapless and above the knee, it showed off her greyhound leanness to perfection. As she sashayed towards him, releasing her new husband to go and write a few cheques, no doubt, Nick’s glance went instinctively in Caroline’s direction. Their eyes met for a split second before a wave of perfume engulfed him and his ex leaned in for the obligatory air kisses. When he pulled back and sought Caroline’s eyes again she’d turned her back completely and was resting her hand on Ricardo’s shoulder. And that bastard worked out. Dammit.

  “Darling, how are you, mi amore?” Melanie gushed in an appalling attempt to get his attention.

  “Just fine thanks, Mel. And you?”

  Nick sipped some champagne and relaxed back on his heels, inching slightly away from her cloying presence.

  “So, so busy, darling. Just not a minute to spare with all the arrangements for the new apartment and all the entertaining Lorenzo likes to do. I feel almost snowed under with obligations.”

  She made a pouty face and let her hair fall in what he supposed one time he’d have considered a suggestive manner. Now, it looked like it just got in her eyes. Never daunted, Melanie tossed her mane back over her shoulder, ensuring her “bought and paid for” breasts tilted dangerously in his direction. He took an additional slight step back.

  “That’s how you like it, Mel, so don’t complain.” Another sip. “And now you have all of Lorenzo’s lovely lucre with which to do it, so it’s win-win for you, I would imagine.”

  A concentrated frown appeared between her brows, concentrated because there was a lot of effort gone into keeping that forehead motionless, but he got the gist. She hated being called Mel and probably resented him mentioning her husband’s vast wealth. Too bad. He’d played her game for too long before realising just how devious she was. How manipulative and cunning.

  Her sincere attempts to get him to sell the hotel out from under the di Luca family had not, as she’d continually insisted, been to get him more time to return to architecture but to gain her access to a considerable fortune that such a sale would amass. Fortunately, he’d wised up and even though he’d never really considered getting the family to do a deal, her insidious demands left a bad taste. Just shows what a smoking-hot, acrobatic nympho can do to a man’s ego – or dick, as the case may be. He’d thrown himself so fully into running the hotel for the previous two and a half years that she’d seemed a charming distraction at first and then, if he was perfectly honest, a convenience.

  Glancing back to see where Caroline had moved to, he realised how grateful he was to have let Mel go, how lucky she wasn’t here on his invitation tonight. How the air seemed easier to breathe when she wasn’t demanding his every minute.

  She stroked her hand, fingernails as bright a red as the dress, up and down his forearm over the suit jacket.

  “Lorenzo is a dear, of course, but . . . ” She leaned in to stage whisper in his ear. “He doesn’t have your stamina, darling.” She batted, yes, actually batted, her eyelashes at him, lips going back into pout mode.

  “Well, don’t let him hear you say that. Not exactly sporting since you’re exercising him in every other way possible, I assume.”

  “Don’t be negative, mi amore.” She tapped him playfully. “I’m sure you could do me a little favour for old times’ sake, hmm? The bathroom is very roomy here.” She half closed her eyes at him, her meaning crystal.

  His jaw clenched. He hadn’t realised how much her interjections of schoolbook Italian got on his nerves. The only woman he wanted in the on-site roomy bathroom, or indeed anywhere, was the one who spoke fluently in the native tongue, the one studiously avoiding him. He removed the talons from his sleeve.

  “We’re over, Mel. We’re done. We’ve both moved on. Go over to your husband. I’m sure he wants to buy you a nice expensive work of art.” That you will never even appreciate, he added silently. “My date is waiting for me. Goodnight.”

  And he walked away. Just like that. Left her standing, mouth agape. Rude? Maybe. But he needed to find Caroline and get her to any kind of hard surface, so he could slide his fingers up inside her dress and feel the tender flesh that had been teasing him for the last hour. He also needed to taste her in every way imaginable and he intended to do just that before the night was over.

  They were silent in the taxi. Lost in their own thoughts, Caro was also edgy and unsure. Her mind was galloping almost as fast as her heartbeat. She turned her head slightly in Nick’s direction, wondering if he was as challenged with this as she was. Probably not. He was a Casanova, for God’s sake – he most likely had a new woman every few months, a veritable Rolodex of them. She bit her lip. That was unfair. She didn’t know him. She hadn’t a bloody clue who he had or didn’t have in his life, and wasn’t that the whole point of this? Anonymity, up to a point. But Christ – and Caro couldn’t
believe this herself – when she’d seen the scarlet woman, literally, drape herself over Nick, she thought she’d spit tacks.

  A fierce bubble of what could only be jealousy had seared up in her blood, making her feel completely out of her depth. Caro didn’t do jealousy. Ever. She was the most even-tempered, broad-minded person she knew – ask anyone. Calm, reasonable, understanding. Yes, Caro was the one in the office who mediated when others were flying off the handle. Strong emotion was not what she did.

  So. Not. Her.

  Yet, as her eyes rested on Nick’s gorgeous mouth, remembering the taste and feel of those lips, she felt heat pool low in her belly. Fuck. She’d turned into some other parallel universe version of herself. And it scared her.

  Made her uncomfortable.

  Aroused her.

  She licked her own lips, her throat suddenly achingly dry, and her eyes lifted slowly, travelling up the chiselled planes of Nick’s face, to find his eyes glued to her mouth. Watching, waiting, as her lips, moistened by her tongue, parted slightly in a soft gasp.

  Without warning, he moved. His hands cupped either side of her face and his mouth, that gorgeous, tantalising, sexy mouth, was devouring hers. Hard, soft, pushy, gentle. She felt it all as his tongue dived in and simply took. The urgency, the desperation, was such a turn-on Caro thought she’d melt right there in the back seat of a taxi.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she welcomed parallel universe Caro and kissed him the hell back. Her hands gripped and clutched at his lapels, dragging him closer. Wanting to feel his heat against hers, wanting his heart beating as insanely fast as hers. Everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours was blocked out. Toni, the di Lucas, the house, the garden, the bitchy maid, the ride back to her house in total shock, the acute dry pain that had speared her as she’d sat in the darkness last night. All blocked out as she heard Nick’s groan when he pulled his mouth from hers.

  “Jesus, woman, you taste . . . ” He stopped as the driver pulled to a stop outside Caro’s building. “Ask me in,” he growled, voice low and urgent. Demanding.

  Caro nodded. Words were just too much right now.

  They made it up her stairway, deliberately not touching each other. Caro fumbled with her keys as she tried to open the door. Her heart was racing still, her breaths jerky. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted to be lost in what she knew he could give her. Oblivion. Pleasure. A place to be someone else. Not the hurt, tired and battered Caro of earlier.

  She’d put on her game face for her lecture – she did that well, always had. She’d continued wearing her professional “I’m in control” face at the gallery. Work was work and her mood had never interfered with that. She’d always been able to separate her family and Toby from her job. She knew some of her colleagues couldn’t and there’d been times when she’d arrived at college early with an hour or two to spare, when she’d taken over a lecture from a co-worker because he or she had been either hung-over or an emotional basket case.

  Not Caro. Maybe it was the acting genes from her mother’s side, but she and her siblings were pretty damn good at putting on a “face”. Now, though? She was definitely wearing someone else’s entirely. She didn’t know the woman pushing open the door, the woman whose skin was tingling with anticipation, the woman who was hoping to have the best sex of her life very, very soon.

  Or, okay, now, even.

  Nick grabbed her bag, tossed it aside and, before the door had even clicked into place, he was kissing her, kissing her neck, her chin, her cheeks. Backed up against the door, her body pushed into the wood, Nick’s mouth took hers. One hand slid down to the tie of her dress and tugged. His other hand reached to the hem of her dress and slowly eased it open, revealing her silk-encased thigh. As his hand curved up over the lace band of her stockings she heard him groan into her mouth.

  “You’re killing me,” he whispered, his hand inching higher, fingers brushing the creamy skin, the silk of her panties.

  Her dress fell open and her breasts heaved and lifted as her breathing ratcheted up when his tongue tasted and touched and licked every inch of her mouth. Her hands clasped around his neck, pressing her closer, bringing his hard, lean torso up flush against her chest. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted his hot skin melded to hers, she wanted, craved, his warm, solid body and crisp chest hair rasping over her tender flesh. She wriggled against him.

  “No, wait . . . too many clothes.”

  She shoved his jacket from the broad, muscular shoulders, effectively breaking them apart so he could pull it off the rest of the way and toss it aside. Caro yanked at his tie and quickly undid the buttons of his white dress shirt. Nick wasn’t idle, either. He slid her dress from her shoulders. Within moments they were gasping. Staring at each other at how crazy they were acting. His breathing was as strangled as hers. His eyes dark and full of intent.

  “Bed,” she managed as he bent to kiss her again.

  And that’s all the direction he needed. He scooped her up in his arms and strode down the small hall.

  “Door on the left,” she instructed.

  And before she could even begin to thank all the good cleaning gods that she had in fact tidied everything away before leaving for her lecture earlier, she was dropped unceremoniously onto the quilt. The sound of Nick unbuckling his belt, the sound of leather and metal as he kicked off his trousers, was unbelievably erotic in the dark, moonlit room. Toeing off his shoes and socks, he grabbed a condom from the pocket of his trousers and tossed it on the bed next to her.

  Caro should have felt self-conscious as his gaze lingered on her body, stretched out before him. She should have felt the urge to cover herself. Shouldn’t she?

  But parallel universe Caro was in charge tonight and seemingly she had a very different way of doing things. She kicked off her shoes and stretched suggestively along the soft fabric of the bed covers. Nick’s eyes lingered on the thigh-high stockings rimmed with lace, then slowly edged up to the scrap of blue fabric that covered her intimately. His gaze moved over every inch of skin, taking in her hips, curves and dips until his eyes rested on her breasts.

  The matching blue lace bra was sheer except for a delicately embroidered rose over each nipple. The fabric was doing a lousy job of covering up her aroused state and Nick bent forwards, crawled up over her, a hand placed on either side of her shoulders, and bent his head. The minute his hot, wet mouth took her nipple inside in a sucking tug, she arched into him, moaning in gratification. Yes. This is what she wanted. Needed. Had to have.

  His hips were angled, pressed firmly between her open, yielding thighs, and the feel of him, the pressure, the hardness she could feel so intimately through his boxer shorts was so damn good. The pull of his mouth sent ripples through her stomach and continued in shock waves to her core.

  Reaching up, she shoved her hands into the silky hair as he bent intently to administer pleasure to her other breast. Oh, yes. Pausing, he pulled the straps of her bra down and the cups followed, exposing her skin and tightly furled buds. Her hands moved down, over sculpted shoulders and strong biceps – she gripped and held on as he bit gently and licked, not just her nipples but all around, under, over, between her breasts, sucking skin, laving it with his tongue. The sounds he was making were raspy and hoarse, and she loved it.

  Lowering to one elbow, Nick used his other hand to sweep and stroke over her belly, back and forth, hip to hip, just grazing her mound, whisper soft, time and again.

  She arched her hips, twisting as the heat built.

  “Please, Nick, please . . . ”

  She didn’t really know what she was asking but knew she needed his touch, his hand . . . and, oh, my God, it seemed, his mouth. His dark head bent lower, mouth following the path his fingers had trailed, and it was sublime – hot, tender and raw all at once. He put his mouth right down on her, over the scrap of material, and licked his way up and down through the fabric.

  The combination of silk and hot tongue was almost unbearable. She squirmed and
tried to push his head away. But moving further down her body, he angled her thighs together and kissed and tasted as he rolled her panties down her legs and threw them aside. Slowly, he kissed his way back up along her stockings, inching her legs apart now until he reached the lace rim. Then his tongue went to work again over and around that exposed soft skin between her hold-ups and her centre.

  “Nick,” she gasped, “I’m not sure . . . ”

  She wasn’t used to oral sex. The other night they’d skipped that bit and although he’d seemed pretty interested, she’d made small gestures and movements that had shown him she clearly wasn’t ready, and he’d respected that. She’d never done it with Toni and only received it once with a lover since then. And it had been squirmy and uneventful at the same time. Squirmy because she’d been so conscious that a man was seeing her there and uneventful because he obviously hadn’t a clue what to do.

  And she’d been no help, lying limply, unsure of what was expected of the receiver in these situations. God, how did she get to be thirty-two and not have a clue about this? It was embarrassing and mortifying. And she really had to get Nick to stop – only . . . Oh, Christ, he seemed to know exactly what to do. Heat was pumping through her veins and she could feel a tightness curl and twine inside. His tongue was stroking, circling, sucking and . . . Oh my good bloody God, did he just . . . ?

  “Nick,” she gasped as he tasted her intimately. “God.”

  “You taste divine,” he murmured, “like all the sweetness in the world and Jesus, your scent . . . you’re so fucking perfect.”

  She did?

  She was?

  Well okay, then.

  Pushing her head back into bed, she arched higher into his mouth, determined to let this other Caro let rip and enjoy. Nick’s voice, low and deep, saying beautiful, dirty things against her wetness was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt in her life. Real Caro watched from above, saw the scene as it played out beneath her – a wild, sexy woman urging a gorgeous, almost naked man practically to eat her alive. It was an X-rated sight and absolutely glorious.