The Truth About De Campo

by Jennifer Hayward

  His hand clamped around her wrist. “You want the truth?” She gasped as he yanked her back down, her thighs landing hard on his, her hand against his chest to steady herself. Blood pumped through his veins, filled his head with such pressure he was blinded to common sense. His gaze locked on hers like a heat-seeking missile. “The truth is I’ve spent the last week trying desperately not to make a mistake that will damn both of us. And if you think,” he ground out harshly, “that there has been one minute I haven’t thought about us together, then you can think again.”

  Her eyes were big pools of forest-green laced with gold, her breath unsteady as her fingers bit into his hot, tense flesh. A trickle of sweat made its way down his nape. “You were not a placeholder that night, Quinn. You were the only woman who could have saved me from myself. The only woman I wanted so blindingly much I could have lost myself on that night of all nights.”

  The hitch in her breath was deafeningly loud in his ear. He ran his thumb across the flushed skin of her cheek. “You know this would be a total disaster.”

  She arched into his touch like a feline craving his possession. “I don’t care. I’m done caring. I will recuse myself from the committee. But if I’m just a deal to you, Matteo, you should walk now.”

  His heart pounded like an out-of-control freight train. “Quinn—”

  She pressed her lips to his forehead. Kept them there. “I need to be with you tonight. I need to know I’m capable of more.”

  Perspiration slid down his chest, rivulets that pooled at the waistband of his trunks. He flexed his fingers against her soft skin, struggling for control. But this was bigger than both of them, this need for each other. It operated on a whole other level from anything he’d experienced before.

  His hands came up to frame her face as he dragged his mouth up to hers. “If we’re doing this, if we’re jumping, it has to be all-embracing, Quinn. I’ll make love to you, but I won’t have sex with you.”

  “What’s the difference?” she whispered against his lips.

  “Try it and find out.”

  His hands absorbed her still-damp, silky-soft skin. His mouth found the sweetness of hers, claiming it in a long, slow kiss that telegraphed just how this would be. She tasted like honey, like something he never wanted to leave. And he decided in that moment, if he was going to hell, he was going to enjoy every single minute of it.

  “Matteo...” She breathed the word into his mouth, the edge of anticipation to it setting his blood on fire. His fingers sought out the knot of her bikini top at the nape of her neck and pulled it free, her soft ripe curves spilling into his palms. Her sigh of pleasure was like the most heady of aphrodisiacs. He pulled back so he could see her, drink in the rose-tipped perfection of her breasts.

  “You knew this bikini was going to send me over the edge.”

  “Maybe.”

  He smiled, dipped his head and brought her nipples to firm, pink erectness with insistent sweeps of his thumbs and tongue. He waited until she was fully aroused and moaning softly for him before he slid his hand down over her stomach and eased his fingers under the elastic of her bikini bottoms. She was hot, wet and felt like velvet. Responsive to his every stroke. He wanted to taste her again, feast on her as he had before, but he wanted to sink his hard, aching flesh inside her more. To make her writhe beneath him until she begged for him to get her off.

  He would. Eventually...

  She arched under his hand as he stroked a finger into her. Took it deep. “God, that feels so good.”

  “I can make it better,” he promised. He added another finger, curved them against her in an insistent caress he knew would take her higher. She moaned and ground her hips against his hand. He smiled with satisfaction and brought his mouth to her ear. “This time we’re taking it to the bedroom, Quinn.”

  She stiffened against him. “I said no bedrooms.”

  “Then you don’t get any more.” He pulled out of her, held her away from him so he could see her face. He struggled to control the beast inside of him that wanted to find Julian Edwards and extinguish him. “I don’t know what he did to you, Quinn. What he did to make you so frightened. But I promise you, I will never hurt you.”

  He watched her waver. Saw the uncertainty flicker in her eyes. He rested his forehead against hers. “You have to trust me.”

  A tremor went through her. Her hands curled into his shoulders as if she were waging a war with herself. Then she burrowed into him. “Yes.”

  Matteo scooped her up off the concrete. Carried her across the terrace inside to his bedroom. When he set her down on the tile, he could feel the tension in her hips. See it etched in excruciating detail across the delicate lines of her face. He raked her hair back and let it fall down her spine, tangling his fingers in the smooth, satiny richness of it. “You say stop, I stop. No questions asked.”

  She lifted her chin. Put her palm to his pounding heart as if to steady herself, to feel the connection between them. He lowered his head and kissed her. Took her lush mouth again and again until she swayed against him, her hands circling his waist. “You make me crazy,” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip until she bit back, sending his pulse into overdrive as her sharp little teeth sank into his sensitive flesh. “If you knew how many X-rated dreams I’ve had about that performance of yours on your knees... It was the hottest experience of my life, bar none.”

  Quinn pressed her lips against the throbbing pulse at the base of his neck. Dropped her hand to slide her palm against the rigid hardness of him. He went willingly to his knees. Slid his fingers under the almost nonexistent sides of her bikini bottoms and yanked them off. The musky, aroused scent of her hit him like a brick to the head.

  “God, Quinn.”

  He put his mouth to her, drank in her essence until he was so crazy with want he thought he might lose it. Palms pressed against her buttocks, he held her to him, dragged his tongue across her, inside her. Made her cry out and dig her hands into his hair. She murmured unintelligible things, begged him to slide his fingers deeper into her in a caress he now knew made her crazy.

  “Dammit, Matteo—”

  He lifted his mouth from her. Pushed to his feet and brought her hands to the waistband of his trunks. “Take them off,” he growled.

  She shoved her fingers into them and ran them down his long legs. When she straightened and came back to him her face was pinched, expectant. He lowered his mouth to hers, sucked her bottom lip into his and kissed her until she was pliant beneath his hands. “Relax, bella. You say stop, we stop.”

  She rested her forehead against his and nodded. He picked her up and set her down on the massive king-size bed, her dark hair fanning out against the white silk sheets. She was creamy-skinned perfection, had the most exquisite hourglass figure he’d ever seen. Somehow he had the presence of mind to rummage up a condom and slide it on before he returned to her and smoothed his hand down over the curve of her hip, between the juncture of her thighs. Where he wanted to be.

  Her eyes went huge. He straddled her, holding her gaze the entire time. “Touch me,” he rasped. “I need your hands on me.”

  She leaned forward and curved her fingers around the heated, throbbing length of him. He was sure he’d never been this hard, this aroused in his life. She was just that beautiful to him.

  Her lips parted, the focus she devoted to his pulsing erection just about doing him in. He reached down, cupped her buttock in his hand and brought her thigh around his waist. “Take me inside of you,” he urged. “I need to be inside of you so badly, Quinn.”

  She closed her fingers around him and guided him to her slick, hot flesh with that same intense concentration. He sank his palms into the mattress on either side of her and forced himself to wait. “More?”

  “Yes.”

  He sank into her just enough to find his place. She arched her hips agai
nst him. “Please—”

  He gave it to her, excruciatingly slowly, an inch at a time, waiting for her body to adjust to his. Waiting for her to relax—fully trust him. Deeper and deeper she took him, flexing beneath him until he was buried to the hilt. The shocked, dazed pleasure in her eyes had him whispering mindless pleas in Italian for control. He had never felt anything so good in his life as she clenched her tight muscles around him.

  He let out a husky groan. If this was hell, he never wanted it to end.

  Quinn wrapped her leg tighter around him, brought him closer. “Tell me,” he said softly. “Tell me what you want.”

  She lifted her hips. “More.”

  He shook his head. “No. Tell me. I want to know what you like. What you need.”

  She began with soft, breathy requests that were half shy, half eager. He gave it to her, easy, leisurely, leashing the hard demand of his body to give her the buildup she needed. She caught her lip between her teeth. Her cheeks turned rosy. He urged her on with husky commands, goading her, making her tell him more. Making himself half-crazy in the process. Her demands became more insistent, more graphic. He hooked her leg higher around his waist and stroked even deeper inside her.

  Deeper, harder until he was shaking with the effort it took to hold back. She flung a hard, raw demand at him that was the end of him. He swore under his breath and set his thumb to her center.

  “Come, sei bella, Quinn,” he murmured, dropping his mouth to hers. “Come for me.”

  She moaned and closed her eyes, pushed up harder against his thumb. Something inside her was still holding back, unable to let go. He held his screaming body in check and took her apart with one firm rotation of his thumb against her clitoris. Her hot contractions around him set him off like fireworks.

  He kissed her, hungry, wild, his hoarse cry spilling into her mouth. And then there was only the long, sweet road back, his body cradled in hers, their connection so complete, so inviolate, he knew he’d never experienced anything like it.

  Neither of them dared say anything. It was that heavy in the air. He rolled onto his side, took her with him, loath to break the bond. Her hot tears dampened his cheeks. He brushed them away, murmuring soft endearments in his native language until she fell asleep in his arms.

  Moonlight poured into the room from the skylight, bathing them in an otherworldly glow. He stared up at it, his arms tucked securely around Quinn. He was definitely going to hell. He’d definitely passed Go. He’d definitely collected the girl.

  It was a done deal.

  CHAPTER NINE

  QUINN WOKE WITH the birds, their boisterous song nudging her from a restless sleep that had seen her toss and turn most of the night. She wasn’t used to sleeping with anyone. She and Julian had occupied separate beds for the last few months of their marriage when things had become intolerable, and Matteo’s warm body wrapped around hers, his arm keeping her anchored securely against him was as alien as it was wonderful. She felt claustrophobic, secure and cherished all at the same time.

  Light filtered through the skylight, sliding across the bronzed sinewy strength of Matteo’s forearm. Her stomach did a slow roll, her fingers twisting in the whisper-soft silk sheets. Last night had been incredible...unforgettable. But had her need to be human been worth the fallout that was sure to follow? Because she had to recuse herself from the committee now. There was no other option.

  Which meant telling her father she had developed a personal relationship with Matteo De Campo.

  A wave of perspiration blanketed her skin. Throwing off the sheet, she slid her legs over the side of the bed and slipped quietly to the floor. Pulled on her bikini and padded out onto the patio where the first signs of dawn were tracing a hazy pattern across the sky. It was warm already but she knew the slightly feverish sensation heating her skin was the thought of disappointing her father yet again. Watching the disapproval stain his blue-green eyes until she thought it would be easier just to turn around and take it all back. She pressed a hand to her stomach as her muscles tightened in a full-on revolt. Warren would not understand her letting her personal feelings get in the way of an assignment as big as this. He would be furious—questioning his decision to give it to her.

  Standing there, watching the waves roll into shore, the surf rougher this morning after last night’s storm, remembering how slowly, how exquisitely Matteo had made love to her, using his body as an instrument of pleasure, not punishment as Julian had done, she knew she had the answer to her question. She would do it a million times over. She felt as if she had truly honored her feelings for the first time in her life.

  Quinn raked her hair away from her face with an unsteady movement. It wasn’t as if she was ignoring the fact that she’d just made the career-limiting move of all career-limiting moves. It’s just that the emptiness wasn’t enough anymore. She’d had enough of it for a lifetime.

  More troublesome, really, was who she’d just shared her soul with. Matteo De Campo, whose attention span with a female lasted about as long as his perusal of the morning paper.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in the fragrance of frangipani, gardenia and magnolia. Matteo had said he wouldn’t have sex with her, he would only make love to her. But he didn’t love her. He lusted after her. And therein lay the real foolishness of last night’s actions.

  If you were smart, you didn’t wait until Matteo ended an affair with you. You got out first before you were burned. Made a timely exit so the memories were good and the heart was intact.

  The humid blanket of air bore down on her. She looked longingly at the clear, turquoise water. Maybe a swim would cool her overheated brain.

  * * *

  Matteo woke to an empty bed and an urge for a woman that would have been disconcerting if he hadn’t been wondering where in God’s name she was. Followed closely by the even more disturbing reality that he had well and truly crossed the line this time and there was no going back.

  A throbbing pressure filled his head. Expanded in his skull until it drove him from the bed and onto the cool tile to look for Quinn. It was like déjà vu, her being gone like this again, except this time everything was different. This time he hadn’t slept with Quinn Davis in a self-medicating, over-the-edge fashion. He had made a conscious decision to be with her. To honor his emotions for her which ran so deep into uncharted territory he didn’t care to contemplate them at the moment.

  He pulled on his boxers and strode out onto the terrace, but it, too, was empty. Where would she have gone at just after six in the morning? Was she coming down from the high of last night and realizing what she’d done?

  He winced as his head throbbed. There were consequences for both of them. Extreme consequences. He was going to have to tell Riccardo what he’d done, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. But he couldn’t do it until Quinn told the board, he knew the lay of the land and he had all his ducks in order. His brother would not see it as the complex situation it was. He would see it as history repeating itself in the worst, most reckless fashion possible. Matteo playing with another multimillion-dollar deal that could make De Campo’s decade.

  His low groan split the air. His brother was going to lose his mind.

  Matteo paced to the other end of the patio, looking out over the water. He was a different man than he’d been three years ago. He had been laser-focused on this deal, had laid all the groundwork in a brilliant, understated fashion that would win it for them. He had done his job. Differently than Riccardo would have done, but strategically, it was perfect. Riccardo would crucify him anyway. He didn’t get him. Never had.

  He lifted his gaze to the sun slipping up from the line of the horizon. It struck him he should be taking the advice he’d given Quinn. He needed to stop trying to live up to everyone’s expectations of him and do what he knew was right. Being with Quinn had been right. He knew it in his bones.
He needed to convince Riccardo to believe in him. That he would win this deal regardless. That he had always had his eye on the prize.

  He was about to go back inside and shower when he saw a lithe figure slicing through the ocean toward their suite. Quinn. He sat down on the edge of the pool while she swam the last hundred meters. She hit the edge, reached up to grip the concrete and blinked the water out of her eyes as she looked up at him, wet dark hair floating behind her like a mermaid come to visit.

  He cocked a brow. “You like 5:00 a.m. swims too?”

  She reached back and squeezed the water out of her hair, a rueful smile curving her mouth. “Only when I’ve had earth-shatteringly good sex with a man I’m supposed to be doing business with and I’m trying to process. Other than that I’m usually an end-of-the-day, sneak-out-of-the-office-for-a-class kind of girl.”

  “Earth-shatteringly good,” he repeated, liking the taste of that on his tongue. “That’s when you’re supposed to stay in bed for more of the same.”

  “Did you hear me say process?”

  “Processing is overrated.” He leaned down, took hold of her hands and hauled her up onto the concrete. “Regrets, Quinn?”

  She settled herself down beside him, water dripping from her wickedly good curves. “I think,” she said with a wry twist of her mouth, “I’ve processed that right out of me.”

  “Good.” He captured her chin in his fingers and lowered his mouth to hers for a long, lingering kiss. Her lips were soft and salty, capable of endless exploration. There was something so right about being with Quinn that he couldn’t see the wrong in it. Even when there were ten million reasons why he should.

  Her breathing was choppy when the kiss ended. “Maybe,” she said unsteadily, “you should convince me some more.”

  He set her away from him with reluctant hands. “Maybe you should talk to me about Julian first.”