At the Italian's Command

by Cathy Williams

  ‘Not fair!’ Sophie gasped. ‘You’re driving me crazy.’

  ‘Glad it’s mutual,’ Rafe took time out to reply, their eyes tangling in heated pleasure. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him, then edging her up so that her breasts dangled tantalisingly over his mouth, moving and jiggling and teasing him into the erotic challenge of capturing one of those elusive nipples so that he could continue sucking. As he sucked she gyrated against him, grinding her hips on him.

  Gently and expertly, Rafe guided her into a position from which they could confer mutual pleasure on one another, and as she circled his hard erection with her mouth he lost himself in the pleasure of the honeyed sweetness between her legs.

  There had never been another woman before her, or at least that was what it felt like as his tongue flicked along the crease, finding the tiny bud that tightened as he licked it. He closed his eyes, just enjoying the taste of her against his mouth, his hands cupping the small, perfect roundness of her buttocks.

  He could feel her breasts pushing against him and for an instant he removed his hands from where they were to find those breasts and massage them, rubbing the taut nipples between his fingers, loving the way every touch made her body shudder.

  They only broke apart when they both knew, as one, that they had to, that if they continued any longer their love-making would not reach its inevitable conclusion.

  And it felt oh, so natural when that inevitable conclusion finally came.

  Every pore of her, with every beat of her heart, she was waiting to receive him and it was breathtaking when he entered her, sharply thrusting.

  Sophie felt her body nearing its climax and was shocked by the intensity of it when it finally did rip through her, leaving her panting and utterly, blissfully satisfied in its wake.

  Rafe seemed to have been affected in the same way. He moved off her and was motionless for a few seconds. He lay on his back, with his eyes closed, and she felt secure enough to look at him without hiding the love in her eyes, only raising her guard when he rolled onto his side and smiled.

  ‘Well, this adds a whole new level to your objective of getting to know the real me…’ He gave her a lopsided smile and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears, his finger lingering on the lobe, then stroking the sensitive skin just behind it.

  ‘I could tell you what I know I’m supposed to say,’ Sophie replied. ‘That the journalist should never get involved with her client because work and play never mix…’

  ‘But you’re not going to say that, are you?’ He laughed off his sudden alarm that she might revert to being the cautious, sensible Sophie with a task at hand.

  ‘How can I?’

  ‘How indeed,’ he murmured with satisfaction. ‘When I can still taste you on my tongue…’ He was gratified to see her blush bright red. ‘Besides, strictly speaking, we’re more than simply a journalist and a client. We have a history.’

  ‘A history of sorts, anyway.’

  ‘Let’s not understate it.’ Rafe chuckled. ‘Even if we didn’t meet regularly, I was still kept informed of your movements by my mother.’

  Sophie sighed, understanding what he meant. ‘The village grapevine.’ He had stopped stroking her ear and was now circling her nipple absent-mindedly with his finger. It felt surreal to be lying in the bed next to him, naked, bodies glistening with perspiration from the aftermath of their passion. Surreal yet at the same time entirely natural.

  And that, Sophie thought, was the nature of love. At least for her.

  She frowned. ‘If they only knew…’ She shuddered. Bad enough were they ever to find out that she and Rafe had slept together. Far worse if they ever guessed that, as far as she was concerned, it had been so much more than a carnal act of pleasure.

  She looked at him to find his eyes narrowed thoughtfully on her but when she blinked that thoughtful expression was gone, replaced by something more light-hearted.

  ‘You have a fabulous body,’ he murmured, a compliment that Sophie refused to consider seriously.

  ‘Bet you tell all the girls that,’ she teased, wincing inside.

  ‘I don’t, actually.’

  ‘Would that be because they already know?’

  ‘Would that be because I never say something I don’t mean?’

  ‘Oh, so none of them had good bodies.’ Sophie nodded, considering this option.

  ‘It’s not the quality of the body, it’s what a woman does with it…’

  Sex and flirtation. This was what it was all about, the fun he had spoken about earlier, fun without strings. She had enjoyed it and there was no way she was going to spoil the moment, so she half smiled back at him, nothing serious there.

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘Who taught you?’ Rafe kept his voice light and bantering, but there was nothing light inside him when he thought of her in bed with another man.

  ‘Taught me?’ Sophie asked in surprise. Then it hit her. She had made love with abandon, with confidence, and no one had taught her that. It was just that this man lying right next to her had brought out the best in her. ‘No one taught me,’ she admitted, reddening. ‘I mean…I’m not the most experienced person on the face of the earth…’

  ‘Define.’

  ‘You want me to tell you how many lovers I’ve had?’ Sophie laughed in mild astonishment, but when he nodded there was nothing amused in his expression.

  ‘Well…one, if you really want to know.’ Hell, there was nothing to be ashamed of in that.

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘Oh, just somebody.’ She shrugged airily, edging a bit closer to him because what he was doing to her nipple was getting her heated up all over again.

  ‘Just somebody? I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you don’t make love with just anybody for the hell of it. He must have meant something to you.’

  ‘Oh, he did.’ Sophie thought of Matthew, lovely, caring Matthew who had asked her to be his wife, whom she had very nearly married before she had realised that affection, friendship, pleasant sex, were not necessarily the ingredients for a joyful marriage. Maybe he had belatedly realised that as well, because there had been no weeping and wailing at her refusal, just a calm, measured acceptance for which she had been profoundly grateful. ‘We went out for eighteen months and he was the nicest man I have ever known.’

  ‘But nice just didn’t do it for you in the end.’ The nicest man she had ever known? Rafe clenched his teeth together into a sympathetic smile before realising, with satisfaction, that nice was the most insulting adjective in the world, especially when applied to a man. Really, it was just boring gift-wrapped in shiny paper. ‘Did you work with him?’

  ‘No, but I met him through a friend at work. We were friends for quite a while before we became…serious…about one another…’ Sophie offered him a slow, sexy smile. ‘Why are we talking about this anyway?’ She ran one finger lightly down the centre of his chest and he caught it in his hand.

  ‘I thought all women liked to have a conversation after sex.’

  Sophie thought that he obviously didn’t cater for those women for whom sex with him was a predestined, short-lived occurrence. Yes, she had succumbed to him and, yes, it had been wonderful, better than wonderful, but it would not go beyond this bedroom door. It was her own fault that she had stupidly gone down the falling-in-love route, but no way was she going to compound the error by launching into any kind of affair with him simply because the sex was wonderful. Theirs would be the union of two ships meeting in the night, brushing past one another before drifting out of each other’s orbit because that was just the way it had to be.

  ‘Why talk when we can make love?’ She gave him a sulky pout, glancing at his sexy face from under her eyelashes, and he grinned at her.

  ‘You do that well.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That pout thing.’ But he still didn’t release her hand, even though he was already hardening, wanting to touch her a
gain. ‘What’s the rush, anyway?’ he asked softly.

  ‘The golden oldies might come back any minute…’

  ‘And if they do?’

  ‘Not good.’ Sophie shook her head gravely. ‘Uh-uh, not good at all.’ She reached down and stroked him, felt him move against her fingers. She was a kid with a new toy, but this toy she wanted to keep to herself for ever and, if that wasn’t going to be possible, then she wanted to play with it, build up her bank of memories of what it was like, so that she could take the recollection with her for the rest of her life. She wriggled her fingers loose and then guided his hand to where she was already wetly waiting for him, sighing when he cupped her there and began moving his palm against her straining, sensitive womanhood.

  ‘You’re right,’ Rafe murmured softly, exploring her now with his fingers. ‘Best to keep this to ourselves…’

  Sophie stilled and Rafe immediately picked up the subtle alteration in the atmosphere.

  ‘There’s nothing to keep to ourselves,’ she said in a quiet voice. She stroked his face, drinking in its angles and contours. ‘You were right about taking a chance and having fun just for the sake of it, but only for this one day, Rafe, and then…then we both go back to our own worlds… Lord, why on earth are we being so serious?’ She closed her eyes and arched forward, kissing him on the mouth, lingering so that she could taste him completely.

  For a few seconds, Rafe looked at her, not understanding what he was feeling, needing in some part of him to prolong the conversation, but her mouth was too persuasive. He returned the kiss, hard, pushing her back while his hands roughly explored the smooth lines of her thigh and the satin softness of her stomach. He was drowning in it when he became vaguely aware of noises in the house.

  It took Sophie a few seconds longer to pick up the sounds, then she gave a little yelp and wriggled into a sitting position.

  ‘They’re back!’

  ‘It’s the wind, that’s all. You know these old houses. One gust of wind and anything that can rattle will make sure that it does. Loudly.’ He fondled her breast with his hand, like someone weighing a delicacy, while rubbing her nipple with his finger, then he inclined down to take it into his mouth so that he could rasp his tongue against the stiff tip.

  He felt her sigh as she relaxed back on the bed with her hand gently in his hair.

  But there was no way that either of them could have failed to hear the escalation of noise downstairs, followed by Claudia calling out their names. Sudden panic flared through Sophie and she pushed him off and scrambled off the bed towards the pile of discarded clothes on the ground.

  ‘Get up!’ she snapped frantically. ‘Or are you going to tell me that old houses can shout?’

  Rafe slung both legs over the side of the bed and eyed his bundle of clothes, but before he could make a move towards them Sophie had gathered them up and flung them in his direction.

  ‘Hurry and get dressed! Oh, good Lord…’ This last uttered on a groan as footsteps drew closer and there was a loud knock on the door.

  ‘Are you in there, Sophie? The front door wasn’t locked…’

  ‘Just coming, Claudia!’ Sophie sang out, while she tried to glare Rafe into speedier action. He had managed to pull on his trousers and was now rustling around, feeling in his pockets.

  ‘The key!’ she whispered, holding out her hand. ‘And make it fast, Rafe. Then you’d better hide…somewhere…in the wardrobe!’

  ‘No way could I fit in that thing.’ He was frowning.

  ‘Then contort yourself!’

  ‘Are you all right?’ Now Claudia sounded concerned.

  ‘Oh, absolutely!’ She turned to Rafe. ‘The key.’

  ‘I’m looking, but I can’t seem to put my finger on it.’

  Sophie’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him in horror while he shrugged his shoulders in an infuriatingly Gallic fashion. He seemed to have forgotten about the shirt bit of his ensemble and was strolling towards her, still rooting around in his pockets.

  Good Heavens, she thought, how long can it take one very clever man to find a key in a pocket the size of a sock?

  ‘Look harder!’ she ordered in a choking undertone. With a sigh of pure exasperation, she raced over to where the clothes had been carelessly tossed and dropped to all fours, face to the floor as she scanned the ground for the delinquent key.

  ‘Found it!’

  She spun round, managing just to catch the grin on his face as he turned towards the door, stuck the key in and opened it. Wide.

  Sophie leapt to her feet, bright red as Claudia peeped around her son and received an eyeful of dishevelled, flustered face and clothes that had been thrown on at the speed of light with no time for getting the details right. The button on her trousers was still undone, and Sophie hurriedly clasped her hands in front of her to conceal the incriminating fact.

  ‘Claudia!’ she managed weakly. ‘You’re back early.’

  ‘Too early, from the looks of things.’ Finely arched eyebrows raised in an expression of worldly-wise comprehension.

  ‘It’s not what you think…’ Sophie crossed her fingers in her head for the small but absolutely necessary white lie. ‘Rafe was just…on his way out…actually, he just came to give me a few corrections to my report…’ She glanced at Rafe for confirmation, which seemed utterly ludicrous considering the man hadn’t had the wit to at least get fully clothed. No shirt, and, as her eyes drifted downwards, no shoes either. Unless Claudia had lost her marbles in the space of a couple of hours, she couldn’t help but be wondering what the likelihood was of her son coming up to the bedroom to discuss business without a shirt. Or shoes. In winter.

  ‘There’s no need to spare my maidenly blushes, Sophie.’ Claudia smiled and—good Lord!—winked. Coming from a woman who was so magnificently aristocratic, the wink was almost…almost indecent.

  ‘I…’ Sophie cast one desperate glance at Rafe, who seemed in no particular rush to help her out of the hole that he had managed to dig by opening the door to his mother.

  ‘I’ll leave you two to perhaps join us downstairs? We had planned to have a spot of lunch in town but Maggie’s arthritis has been acting up and it seemed a much better idea to just buy one or two things at the shops and come back here to eat. Not that I expect you young things want to hear about the state of our health!’

  Sophie smiled weakly and all but groaned.

  ‘It might be an idea, darling, if you stick a shirt on when you decide to join us.’ Claudia smiled. Sophie sincerely hoped that another wink wasn’t in the offing.

  ‘This is all your fault!’ she snapped as soon as Claudia had disappeared, with heaven only knew what tales of unbridled romance and passion to share with Grace. ‘Why couldn’t you have done what I said? Why couldn’t you have just handed me the key and then made yourself scarce?’

  ‘In the wardrobe?’

  ‘In the wardrobe! Behind the bed! Anywhere, Rafe!’ She picked up his shirt and flung it straight at him.

  ‘Why are you so worked up about this?’

  ‘Why am I so worked up? Why am I so worked up? Why do you think?’ Sophie folded her arms and shot him a look that conveyed the message, Isn’t it glaringly obvious? ‘We had fun but, I told you, it was just a…a…’

  ‘One-night stand?’ Rafe offered helpfully.

  Sophie blushed, but stood her ground. ‘You can call it that if you like.’

  ‘Maybe a one-day stand,’ he amended. ‘Considering it’s still daytime, and there was no way that it had a hope-in-hell chance of progressing into the night.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she snapped. ‘Especially considering Grace and Claudia are in the same house! I don’t know how you could have been so…so…dense! I told you that I had picked up vibes last night and now here we are. Your mother probably thinks that we’re some kind of item and right about now my mother probably thinks the same. I mean, didn’t it occur to you at all that answering the door in nothing but a pair of trousers might not have been suc
h a good idea? Answering a locked door?’

  ‘Automatic reaction, I suppose. One key, one door, hey presto.’ He savoured the novel sensation of being confronted by a woman agonising over the fact that he was her lover.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked bluntly. ‘You got us into this mess; you can get us out of it.’

  ‘I didn’t get us into this mess, Sophie. Our love-making was a mutual decision. The fact is that we’re in this situation is because we made love. If we hadn’t, the touring party would have returned to find me working and you out, enjoying a walk on the beach. Correct me if I’m wrong.’

  Sophie neither agreed nor disagreed. She just stood there looking like a thoroughly maddened little angel. With her trouser button undone.

  ‘Whatever. What do we do now?’

  Rafe rubbed his chin thoughtfully and looked at her for a few long seconds in silence before releasing a long sigh.

  ‘We don’t have much choice, do we? We’ll just have to go with the flow. At least for the remainder of this weekend, my sweet, we have a relationship…’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE day, which had earlier seemed just a brief blink of an eye during which Sophie could snatch her stolen moment with Rafe, now seemed to stretch out over an endless horizon.

  As there was no rush to get downstairs, considering they had supposedly embarked on an exciting, romantic relationship, Sophie took her time having a bath. She assumed Rafe was doing the same. Perhaps if they both showed up freshly laundered, Claudia might think that she had imagined the whole thing.

  Lying in the soapy warm water, Sophie tried this idea out for size and reluctantly decided to rule it out.

  Which left her glumly contemplating Rafe’s plan. A game of make believe.

  ‘You haven’t been handed a life sentence,’ he had told her impatiently. ‘We go along with it and at a later date we can just tell them that we mutually decided to break up. Relationships do that, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s either that or we say that we were just having a bit of fun.’