The Truth About De Campo

by Jennifer Hayward

  She sank her palms into the hard line of his jaw. “Then help me chase our demons away together.”

  He went completely still, his gaze holding hers. “What are you saying?”

  She swallowed hard, fighting the part of her that wanted to run because that was what she always did. “I need to know what you said to me earlier is true. That Julian was wrong about me.”

  The color seemed to leech from his skin. “You must know it’s true.”

  “I don’t,” she said quietly. “I don’t know anything. You said the other night that I could knock you out of this. Then use me. And let me prove him wrong about me.”

  Matteo shook his head, a desperate glitter in his eyes. “This is way over the line.”

  “I know. I just walked over it.”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “The deal... I...”

  “The deal doesn’t exist tonight,” she said harshly. “I am here and I am not leaving you.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Cristo. Quinn...”

  She sat there, heart slamming against her chest, terrified that he would reject her, that once again she would be deemed unacceptable. The silence hung between them like a loaded missile. When he opened his eyes, the anguish she saw there made her draw in a breath.

  “I told you last night this is about numbing my mind. You have to know that.”

  She wanted someone to numb hers. To make her forget she was Quinn Davis for just a few minutes. Make her feel alive again like she had on that mountainside.

  His big body tensed beneath her hands, his breathing changed and became rough, fractured. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “One night. One night to make it go away for both of us.”

  Something shifted in his expression. A dark wildness moved within him. She drew in a breath as he slid a hand against her nape and brought his mouth down on hers. Her softness met his hardness in a caress that blew her mind right from the very first second. But unlike his kiss on the mountain, this one was hotter, all-consuming. Devouring and needy, it quickly descended into an urgent quest to pull her into the fire with him. Her fingers fisted against his chest in an involuntary reaction to a dominant male exerting his power over her. She flexed them against him. Forced herself to relax. Dammit, Julian. You are not doing this to me. Not anymore.

  Matteo’s scorching, openmouthed kisses drove the past from Quinn’s head. He tasted her, licked into her until she could do nothing but focus on the heat they were generating. She pushed closer, met him kiss for kiss. And when that wasn’t enough, he sank his hands into her waist, lifted her up and wrapped her legs around him, her bare skin sliding against the rough material of his trousers. The feel of his hard flesh beneath her made her heart slam against her chest. He was already aroused. Potently, highly aroused.

  She wasn’t sure she knew how to handle him.

  Matteo pushed her back so he could look at her. Ran his fingertips up her bare arms to her shoulders, his heated gaze sending goose bumps to every inch of her skin. Got her so caught up in him that was all she could think about. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he murmured, sinking his teeth into her shoulder. “If you knew how close I was to breaking all the rules that night at the castello...”

  She sucked in a breath. “You walked away...”

  “I was one step away, Quinn. One.”

  She watched, hypnotized, as he slid his fingers under the straps of her dress and pulled them down. His muttered oath told her he appreciated the fact she’d had to lose her bra. His gaze as he cupped her hot, ultrasensitive flesh was reverent. “I’m a chest man,” he murmured. “And yours...” he said, sliding his callused fingertips against the tips of her breasts, “is magnificent.”

  He held her gaze as his thumbs covered her nipples, circled them into erect, aching points. Her soft moan of pleasure made him take her mouth again in approval. “Talk to me, Quinn. Tell me what you like.”

  “More,” she muttered. “Just...more.”

  He turned her around, pressed her back against the piano. The hard wood dug into her back, made her arch against it, but when he lowered his head and took her nipple into the heat of his mouth, she stopped caring. She dug her fingernails into his biceps and let out another low moan. He tugged, sucked and laved her until she was half-crazy with the pleasure of it. Feeling it deep down inside of her.

  “You like that?”

  “Yes.”

  He cupped her other breast in his hand and lavished the same treatment on it, tortured her with his swirling tongue until her insides collapsed and everything went liquid. She had never felt so needy, so desperate. So lost in something. In him. Too shy to put it into words, she clamped her legs harder around him and begged with her body for more.

  “Slow down,” he murmured, pulling back. “We should take this to the bedroom.”

  She froze. “No bedrooms.”

  “No bedrooms?” He frowned down at her. “Why?”

  “Here,” she insisted. Moved her fingers to the buttons of his shirt. “I want you here.”

  A dark fire lit his gaze. He let her unbutton the shirt. Let her uncover his drop-dead gorgeous six-pack of a chest that was every bit as amazing as that of her ultrabuff Krav Maga instructor. Then he captured her hands at her sides. “I wasn’t finished.”

  Her throat went dry. She was pretty sure she wanted him to finish. Positive actually.... He held her gaze as he spread her thighs wider, pushed her back firmer against the wood so that she was exposed to him. Vulnerable. Then he pushed the hem of her dress up her thighs in a deliberate motion that made her breath seize in her throat. His palms skimmed across her bare skin, branding her. “I thought you might have lost the panties too,” he murmured, pressing the heel of his palm against the heat of her. “Not that I’m complaining. They’re very sexy.”

  She sucked in a breath as he worked her with the heel of his hand. Her pleasure had never been of any consequence to Julian, it had been all about him. But Matteo was so focused, intent in the way he touched her. “You want more?” he asked, setting his mouth to the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder.

  “Yes.” She moved her hips against him in an instinctive plea.

  “Good,” he murmured, sinking his hands into her waist and lifting her so her hips rested on the piano keys. “Because this is one fantasy I’m not denying myself.”

  He slid his hands under her dress, hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and made her lift her hips so he could strip them off. A bolt of excruciating self-consciousness sliced through her at the way she was displayed in front of him. Like an instrument for him to play.... But her heart was racing, the blood in her veins thrumming. The air sat heavy and humid around them, fragranced with a million exotic flowers. The only sound in the whisper-still night was the crash of the waves on the shore below. And it calmed her....

  He kissed his way from the inside of her knees to the hot, pulsing core of her, taking her dress with him as he went. When she thought she might actually go mad for his touch, he worked his hands under her hips and lifted her to him. She jammed her hands into the keys on either side of her, the jarring sound of two opposite notes filling the air. It was raw and it was outrageous, but when he bent and put his mouth to her, she had never felt more perfectly connected to a person in her entire life. Like she was made for him to touch her like this.

  Leisurely, exquisitely, he savored her, traced every nerve ending in a practiced seduction that drove her slowly, inexorably mad.

  Her body tightened, her eyes flew wide. It had been impossible for her to orgasm with Julian. To perform on command. She had no idea what it felt like to experience it. But right now she felt as if her whole body was about to take flight. To soar into a place she’d never been before.

  He flicked his tongue over the hard nub of her, took her
there, then yanked her back. Again and again. She threw her head to the side. “God, please, I need—”

  “Not yet,” he rasped against her skin. “You can take more.”

  No, she couldn’t. Not anymore. Then he slid a finger inside her and took her higher. Stroked her until he reached a spot that sent white-hot pleasure ratcheting through her. Oh, my God. She jammed her palms into the keys. Sent another crazy symphony of sound bouncing off the walls. She was burning alive....

  “Now,” he ordered. “Now, Quinn.”

  He played the throbbing center of her with his tongue, expertly, urgently, his finger curving up inside her until the blinding heat made the blood roar in her ears. Then he took her over the edge, her scream of pleasure as he brought her to shuddering completion reverberated throughout the room.

  On and on the pleasure coursed through her as he kept his mouth on her, drew out her orgasm, made her take it until her shaking body could handle no more and she pleaded for him to stop.

  She was half-delirious when he picked her up and started toward the bedroom.

  “Not there—”

  He stared down at her. “What in Dio’s name is wrong with a bedroom?”

  She buried her face in his chest. “I just can’t.”

  “What did he do to you, Quinn?” His voice was a low growl.

  She shook her head and burrowed closer. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  He carried her to the silk embroidered sofa with the incomparable view of the Pitons and sat with her cradled against him. Lifted her chin with his fingers. “I knew it would be like that.”

  Her face burned. She had screamed, literally screamed for him.

  His gaze was direct, steady. “You weren’t like that with him.”

  “No.”

  She was acutely aware of his arousal, hard and unfulfilled beneath her. But her absolute inability to enjoy the sexual act in the past froze her in a purgatory of indecision. She wanted to give him as much pleasure as he’d given her. Wipe away the demons still blazing in his eyes.

  But there were other ways to do it. And he made her feel beautiful and empowered enough to try. She sat up in his lap, framed his face with her hands and kissed him, the taste of herself on him so erotic it made her toes curl. His instant, heated response made her blood surge in her veins. “I’m not an expert at this,” she whispered against his mouth. “So you need to tell me how I’m doing.”

  “Tell me,” Matteo returned, his lips clinging to hers, “exactly what is it you’re doing?”

  She pressed her mouth to his hot, hard flesh as she worked her way down. “This.”

  Quinn took her time exploring him, learning him. It was so different to want to touch. To want to make him utter those soft sounds that told her she was doing it just right. To know she was doing it right. She sat back in his arms and brought her lips to his perfectly cut abs. Traced the dips and curves of his salty skin as she worshipped at the altar that was Matteo. When she reached the taut muscles of his abdomen, he tensed so completely she wondered if he was still breathing.

  “You okay?”

  His tortured “eccellente” made her smile.

  “You want more?”

  “You have no idea.”

  She slid the smooth leather free of his belt loop and undid it. Made swift work of his trouser button and zipper. He lifted his hips, helped her as she dragged his pants down over his long legs. Then there was nothing but a very virile, very aroused Matteo in black boxers staring her in the face. And her very, very dry mouth.

  He was big. Bigger than Julian had been. The most perfectly put-together male she had ever seen. She wanted to touch him so badly her self-consciousness vaporized on a wave of lust.

  His olive skin took on a ruddy hue as she sank to the floor in front of him, his gray eyes darkening to a sultry, mesmerizing slate. “This could have been another of my fantasies,” he muttered as she lowered her mouth to the taut muscle just above the band of his briefs. Dragged her lips across the elastic band. “I’m going to give you the thumbs-up on that,” he encouraged hoarsely, his big body stiffening beneath her, “but ask that you pick up the pace.”

  She slid her fingers into his boxers and sought him out. He was velvet soft over hard steel, so very masculine her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to learn this part of him too. To worship him as he’d worshipped her. To make him feel as desirable as she had.

  She moved her hands over him, stroked him, explored him until he arched his hips toward her, his eyes tortured.

  “Dammit, Quinn—more.”

  She lowered her head and took him into her mouth. Heard his guttural growl of approval. It was heady, empowering to be in control when she had never been in the past. Slowly at first, then faster she took him until he was covered in perspiration, until he was shaking beneath her, as out of control as she’d been. Until he couldn’t be thinking about anything but what she was doing to him—just as she had. And the demons were banished.

  Then she didn’t hold back. His breathing fractured. His hands reached for her, tangled in her hair. “I want you with me.”

  Her stomach twisted, too many memories, too many humiliations filling her head. She pushed his hands away and took him deeper in her mouth. Increased her rhythm. His low curse filled the air. His hips jerked into her hands, his big body ready to explode.

  “Maledizione, Quinn.”

  She lifted her head and watched as he caught himself with his hands and came with an explosive force that made her heart pound like a jackhammer.

  Primal, erotic, beautiful. She was spellbound.

  The room was silent except for the harsh force of his breathing. The weight of his gaze sat on her. Probing.

  “I need to clean up,” he muttered, rolling to his feet. “Do not move.”

  He came back in another pair of black boxers and drew her into his arms on the sofa. Set his lips to her hair. “When I said I wanted you to knock me senseless I didn’t expect you to take it literally.”

  She laid her head against his chest. “I wanted it that way.”

  “I have condoms, you know.”

  “It wasn’t about that.”

  He sighed. “You don’t want to talk about it.”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. For the first time in so long, she felt at peace. As if there wasn’t a fractured part of her ready to disintegrate at any moment. She wanted to hold on to it. Savor it. Because it couldn’t last. This had been one night. One night to get Matteo through the fire and one night to make her feel whole again. That’s all it could be.

  Minutes, hours passed. When she woke, Matteo’s chest was moving slowly up and down beneath her cheek. The sky outside was pitch-dark, not a sound in the air.

  She eased herself off him, looked down at his beautiful, hard-edged face. Shadows were painted beneath his eyes, making her wonder when the last time he’d slept well had been. But his jaw was relaxed, his body slack. He was peaceful now and she thought he would sleep for a long time.

  Quinn walked silently to the piano, picked up her underwear and made herself walk out the door.

  * * *

  Matteo woke to flickering shadows. He blinked and sat up. Struggled to get his bearings. He was alone, the suite dark, the sky over the volcanoes just beginning to lighten.

  Quinn’s perfume lingered in the air. Her taste, her smell was all over him. Pieces of the night before stormed back, came together like puzzle parts. His near desperation. His struggle to rid himself of it at the piano. Quinn’s appearance. The mind-blowing intimacies they’d shared...

  The fact that he’d broken the one promise he’d made to his brother...

  His stomach lurched. Yes, Quinn had needed this as much as he did; she’d had her own demons to slay. But it still didn’t make it right. Nothing m
ade it right.

  A sheen of perspiration covered his body. Drove him to the fridge for water. He snatched out a bottle, twisted off the cap and tipped it into his mouth, the icy liquid chilling his throat like the most horrific of wake-up calls. He had slept with Quinn Davis. It would be impossible for him to believe he’d done it if she wasn’t all over him. If the image of it wasn’t so graphically implanted on his brain.

  One night, she’d said. This has nothing to do with the deal.... Yet wasn’t that exactly what Angelique Fontaine had promised just before she had destroyed him crying out her sorrows to her father?

  His stomach dropped. What if Quinn couldn’t handle what she’d done? What if she chose Silver Kangaroo because it was the only unbiased thing to do?

  It occurred to him he might actually have a death wish. With a muffled curse he strode out onto the terrace. But the filtered light of early day only made his sins more blatantly clear. He raised his eyes to the rising sun and let it brand him with the truth. He had put his relationship with his family in jeopardy again over his inability to forget the past. To forgive himself for his trangressions.

  He pressed his palms to his cheeks. Was it ever going to go away? Was he ever going to feel as if he deserved a place on this planet again when Giancarlo would never get to live out the best years of his life? Exactly how long was he going to punish himself? Destroy those around him?

  Was there even any hope he ever would?

  He thought about the trust Riccardo had put in him. Prayed his instincts were right and Quinn would not betray him. His chest tightened until it felt impossible to pull in air and everything went a hazy white.

  He did not consciously register himself striding inside and pulling on swim trunks. Taking the stairs to the beach, walking straight into the water and setting out toward the volcanoes with powerful strokes.

  Quinn had saved his soul last night. Now he had taken himself straight to hell.

  CHAPTER SEVEN