Enthralled by Moretti

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Enthralled by Moretti Page 12

by Cathy Williams


  ‘You honestly don’t need to bother with sun lotion. It’s perfectly safe here in the shade.’

  ‘Doctor’s orders. Safety first is the main thing.’ She was on her stomach and very slowly he began to explore every exquisite inch of her body, rubbing the sun cream into her, feeling the silky smoothness of her skin and, with each stroke of his hand on her body, getting more aroused.

  He pressed his thumbs gently against each vertebra so that she was moaning softly and melting under his touch. He massaged her neck, then her sides, so that her mind went blank and she sighed and squirmed; then the rounded cheeks of her bottom and the length of her glorious legs which parted temptingly, inviting him to go further, but it was an invitation he wasn’t going to take up until he was good and ready.

  ‘This is... I never knew...’ It was an inaudible sigh.

  ‘Now, shift over. Lie on your back. We can’t let an inch of you go unprotected, can we? I would never forgive myself if you were to get sunburned.’

  Chase, cynical when it came to interpreting everything he said, wondered if he meant that he would never forgive himself should she be out of action while they were over here. Four days in paradise without the sex he had been anticipating wouldn’t do, would it?

  She nearly laughed hysterically when she thought that four days in paradise with him without sex would still be four days in paradise for her as opposed to a wasted trip.

  ‘And stop frowning. Just relax. Enjoy.’ Her face was first and then his long, supple fingers moved to her shoulders. He did his utmost not to look at her breasts, at the large, pink discs that were responding so enthusiastically to what his hands were doing. He was aware, though, that the tips had tightened into hard peaks as she became more and more turned on.

  He watched, fascinated, at the slight flare of her nostrils as he began to lavish his attention on her breasts. ‘You can’t be too careful in this Italian sun...especially for someone with as little experience of hot weather as you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Alessandro. London gets hot.’ Her eyes were shut tightly and her fists clenched in an effort at self-control as he continued to massage her breasts. It felt so good. ‘Are you sure we’re on our own here?’ This as he bent to take one pouting nipple in his mouth and she moaned weakly as he suckled on it while spanning his hand across her rib cage.

  ‘No one else would have permission to see this body,’ he broke off to tell her. ‘It’s for my eyes only.’ Then he returned to the matter at hand, moving to pay the same attention to her other nipple.

  How long could he keep this up? Straddling her, he nudged her legs apart. Protection for the full thing, naturally. But he couldn’t resist the feel of her moistness against him and he rubbed himself along her wet crease, an insistent, rhythmic movement that made her gasp out loud.

  ‘How does this feel, baby?’ he asked, his voice raw and unsteady and she whimpered a response that was answer enough. ‘I’m not going to come in you. I just need to do this...’

  But he had to stop when he knew that a few more seconds and he would push them both over the edge. The anticipation of having full-blown sex with her was filling his mind and sensitising every inch of his body. When she half-raised herself to take him in her hand, he gently pushed her back down. He had to control this. If he didn’t, he would come right here, right now and that was something he didn’t want to do. This time, he was going to feel the silky smoothness of being deep inside her.

  He smoothed the cream over her inner thighs and breathed her in. The sweet, sexy smell of her filled his nostrils and he half-closed his eyes before dipping his head between her legs. The flat of his hands were on her thighs, pushing them apart, and he felt her tiny convulsion as his tongue made contact with her clitoris.

  Chase’s fingers tangled in his hair. Here, under the shade of a tree, the sun’s heat was pleasantly diluted. The breeze was soft and balmy. Half-opening her eyes, she saw his dark head between her thighs and, framing him, the glory of the Italian scenery with its vista of blue ocean and in the distance the striking cliffs of the peninsula, lush green interspersed with picturesque hamlets, which were tiny dots seen from this far away.

  She was living a dream. She was here, with Alessandro, making love to him, having him turn her on in ways that were unimaginable. Why shouldn’t she stuff reality behind a door and enjoy what was on offer for its brief duration?

  She smiled, moved against his mouth and smiled more when he raised his head and chastised her for moving too fast.

  ‘More doctor’s orders?’ she teased breathlessly.

  ‘You said it.’

  It felt to her as though she had been building up to this moment for years, from the very first time she had had that first latte with him, a sneaky, stolen latte. She had nervously told herself that it would be a one-off, that she was in no position to have lattes with him or with anyone else, but then, as now, what she had told herself had had no bearing on what had actually transpired.

  They had had the most sexually charged yet chaste relationship on the planet. Every touch had been accidental and every touch had left her craving more. She had dreamt about him back then and had been terrified that Shaun would somehow climb into her head and see her dreams. And he had continued to steal into her dreams like a silent intruder all through the years, long after she had picked up the pieces of her life and moved on.

  So now she was ready.

  ‘Alessandro...’ she breathed huskily and he lifted his head to look at her.

  ‘Alessandro what...?’ The spoils of the victor. Triumph surged through him. This was what he had wanted: to hear her plead for him to enter her, to know that she could no longer hold out. The grieving widow shedding her black and getting back into mainstream life. With him.

  ‘Tell me how much you want me,’ he encouraged thickly. ‘I want to hear you say it. No, hold that thought—but don’t even begin to think that you can start cooling down.’ There were condoms in his wallet. He couldn’t fetch one fast enough. His erection was so hard that it was painful.

  Cool down? Chase thought that she wouldn’t have cooled down if a barrel of ice cubes had been thrown over her. She was on fire, burning for him. She looked at him hungrily, watching as he put on the condom, enjoying the way he was looking right back at her, his dark eyes bold and wicked.

  ‘I’d better just check...’ he murmured, straddling her on the super-sized lounger which could have been made for sex and—who knew?—possibly had been because it was as comfortable as a bed. ‘Make sure you’re still hot for me...’ He slid his finger expertly over her throbbing centre and gave a slashing smile of satisfaction. ‘Hot and wet.’

  ‘I’m glad you approve.’ She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. Her nipples rubbing against him were doing all sorts of delicious things to her body, adding to the overload of sensation. She sighed and arched up so that she could kiss him and simultaneously opened her legs. ‘God, Alessandro, I want you so much right now...’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Their eyes met and she knew that he was asking her if she was ready. Given half a chance, he was always more than prepared to tell her the depth of his bitterness towards her, to inform her that her place in his life was temporary, a passing virus of which he needed to rid his system. Yet, as now, when she could see old-fashioned consideration in his eyes which could flare up almost against his will, he could be just so damned three-dimensional.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Alessandro thrust into her and never had anything felt so exquisite. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he levered her up, his hand on her bottom, so that she could receive him even better as he began moving, fast and hard and rhythmically. Her fingers were digging into his back, driving him on, and her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly parted.

  For a split second, he had a crazy
desire to know whether she had ever felt like this with her husband. He certainly had never felt like this with any other woman but, then again, what other woman had he ever had under such extraordinary circumstances? His last girlfriend, a model whose appearance in his life had not outlived the three-month mark, had been a clone of all the other beauties he had dated in the past. Was it any wonder that this one was special? That this just felt so damned special?

  Chase had died and gone to heaven. On one final thrust, she tipped over the edge as her orgasm ripped through her, sending her body into little convulsions and spontaneously bringing tears to her eyes which she fought to blink back. She felt his groan of fulfilment with every ounce of her being and never had she wanted more to tell him how she felt. Instead, she swept his hair back and smiled drowsily as he opened his eyes to look at her, at first unfocused, and then smiling back.

  ‘That was...good...’ she murmured as he slid onto his side to prop himself up on one elbow so that he could look at her.

  ‘“Good” is not an adjective I’ve ever had much time for. It’s along the same lines as “nice”...’ He idly circled her nipple with his finger and watched as it responded with enthusiasm. ‘How good was it?’

  ‘Very, very good...’

  ‘I’ll settle for that. In fact, I’ll enjoy trying to squeeze more superlatives out of you.’ He dipped his head and closed his mouth over her nipple, which was still sensitive and throbbing in the aftermath of their love-making. He was utterly spent and yet he felt himself stir against her leg. ‘Let’s have a swim,’ he suggested. ‘And then some food. And then we can play it by ear; see what comes up...’

  ‘Oh, very funny.’ But she was laughing as they jumped into the pool. After four lengths, she was happy to take to the side and watch as he continued to slice through the water. She had learned to swim as an adult. Four years ago, she wouldn’t have been able to jump into the deep end of this pool, never mind swim four lengths. He, on the other hand, had probably been swimming since he was a toddler, taught by a member of staff in one of the many pools he had probably enjoyed in various locations over the years.

  The differences between them were so glaringly obvious, reminding her of the shelf life of what they had and of the shadowy undercurrents lurking just beneath the surface of their sexually charged relationship.

  ‘Tired?’

  ‘Swimming isn’t one of my strong points,’ she confessed. ‘In fact...’ what would this one simple admission hurt? ‘...I only learned to swim a few years ago.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ she said with a shrug.

  ‘That must have been awkward on family holidays. I’m surprised your parents didn’t sort that out.’ He kissed her again, a little more hungrily this time, and pulled back with a grin of pure satisfaction. ‘Besides, don’t schools in England have arranged swimming lessons for kids? Something to do with the curriculum?’

  ‘Some of them do,’ Chase said vaguely. ‘But, you know, I kind of had a phobia of water.’

  ‘A little private tuition would have sorted that out, wouldn’t it?’ He swung himself neatly out of the pool and held out his hand to help her up. ‘Better than Mummy and Daddy panicking every time their precious little darling got within a foot of the hotel pool. Hmm...nice...’

  He enjoyed her wet body, running his hands along it, holding her close to him so that their bodies could rub together. ‘No matter. Competitive swimming isn’t on the agenda while we’re here. I couldn’t care less if you can only swim four lengths or four hundred.’

  Chase opened her mouth, toyed with the idea of revealing a bit more about herself but then kept silent. This fantastic side to Alessandro was only in evidence for a reason. Further proof of her lying would kill that reason dead because, even for the sake of finishing unfinished business, lust still had its outer limits. And without lust how much greater would be his anger in the cold light of day? She didn’t want his anger and she certainly couldn’t afford for that anger to be directed at punishing her through her work.

  A sudden tidal wave of sheer misery immobilised her and it took almost more effort than she could muster to get herself back on track.

  ‘Tell me what there is around here,’ she eventually said, falling easily into step with him as he tossed her a towel and they began walking towards the house. ‘All those gorgeous little villages... What do the locals do for a living? Do you know any of them? Personally, I mean?’

  * * *

  Exactly four days later, Chase understood what it must feel like to be in love with someone, living on cloud nine, where everything smelled differently and tasted differently and every single experience was a unique Kodak moment to be committed to memory and brought out at a later date.

  She had seen him at his most relaxed. She felt that she could almost be forgiven for thinking that he really liked her and she guessed that, in a way, he did. He appreciated her quick mind; he appreciated her responsive body; he laughed when she tried to tell corny jokes.

  Just so long as they both pretended that the past had never happened, everything was good between them. For her, it was so much deeper than anything he could possibly feel, but she refused to think like that. What was the point? She had made her bed and she would lie on it. She had accepted his proposal and only now and again did she think that, whilst she was falling deeper and harder for him, he was gradually working her out of his system.

  Wrapped up in his arms at night, lying in a bed that was roughly the size of her spare bedroom, she had let her mind wander, analysed and re-analysed everything he’d said and every gesture he’d made. The one sure thing that sprang to mind was that, the more relaxed he was with her, the more he was putting her behind him.

  It was an argument that made sense. When he had seen her again for the first time after eight years, his rage had been raw, out in the open, targeted and deadly. But that had changed. He would never, ever forgive her for what she had done to him, she knew that, but he was in the process of getting over it. Rage was becoming indifference and indifference was allowing him to stop treating her as public enemy number one.

  She hated herself for trying to find alternative scenarios but they all led to the same dead end. Very soon, he would completely lose interest in why she had done what she had done eight years ago. He would simply stop giving a damn. He would no longer consider revenge because he would not care less. He would just use her and walk away without a backward glance.

  The only consolation was that she had not dropped her guard. She had not let him see just how vulnerable she was, nor would she let him discover how successful he had been at claiming the revenge he had initially considered his due. Without him even realising it, he had indeed wreaked the ultimate revenge, because he would leave her broken and in pieces, whatever show of bravado she employed for his benefit.

  And now here they were, last night, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table with an almost empty bottle of Chablis between them.

  ‘So tell me again why you don’t come here at least once a month, Alessandro.’ Outside, another hot day had gradually morphed into a mild, starry night. They had spent most nights in the kitchen, which was huge, big enough for a ten-seater table at one end, and leading to a conservatory which doubled as an informal sitting area with comfy sofas and a plasma television. From here, they had an uninterrupted view of the sea down below, vast and silent, and the small back garden where they had spent much of their time by the swimming pool.

  She felt lazy and replete after another excellent meal which had been prepared in advance by his housekeeper. They could have done their own cooking, and she had suggested it on day one, but he had killed that dead.

  ‘Why waste time cooking?’ he had questioned bluntly, ‘When there are so many other things we could be occupied doing?’ He had pulled her onto his lap and slipped his finger under
neath her panties, leaving her in no doubt as to what those other things they could be occupied with were. Enjoying any form of domesticity was off the cards. That was not the reason why he had asked her on this holiday.

  ‘You know why I don’t come here once a month,’ he replied wryly. ‘It’s the same reason you wouldn’t come here once a month. Work wouldn’t allow it.’

  ‘But it’s different for you. You’re the big boss. You can do whatever you want. I can’t.’

  ‘Pull the other one, Chase. You’re not a bimbo who would be content to while away her time walking barefoot on a beach, no matter how powdery white the sand might be. You’re one hundred per cent a career woman. You would be bored stiff in a job that allowed you to take time out every month to enjoy a holiday in the sunshine.’

  He stood up, moved to the fridge to replenish the wine and remained there with his back against the counter, carefully looking at her with his head to one side. She had caught the sun. Her skin was the colour of pale honey and from nowhere a smattering of freckles had appeared on the ridge of her nose.

  ‘I recognised that the first time I laid eyes on you,’ he continued casually. ‘You weren’t going to be distracted by anyone or anything. You barely seemed to notice what was going on around you.’

  Chase fidgeted. Trips down memory lane never turned out well between them. However, his voice was mild and speculative, not in the least provocative. More proof that, whatever fireworks there might be on the physical level, on the emotional level he was breaking away. The medicine was working. Sex was finishing the unfinished business between them.

  ‘I liked that,’ he continued and she looked at him in surprise. ‘You once asked me if I’d ever go out with a career woman and I gave you a negative answer.’ He strolled towards her and resumed his seat at the kitchen table, tugging a free chair with his foot so that he could use it as an impromptu footrest. ‘The truth is, you were the anomaly. Before you and after you, I’ve only gone out with...’

 

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