Looking up at him, she frowned. ‘Why are you laughing?’
He shook his head. ‘This suit is dry clean only.’
She started to laugh too. ‘Serves you right for not taking it off.’
He dropped a kiss lightly onto her forehead. ‘You want to know what’s even funnier...?’
* * *
‘I didn’t know you could actually launder money.’ Picking up the damp five-hundred-euro note, Flora gazed at it thoughtfully. ‘It’s bad enough having to wash everything else. How’s your wallet?’
Massimo rolled his eyes. ‘Clean!’ he said drily. ‘As are my clothes.’
Flora giggled. They had returned to the yacht, showered, and made love again before making their way up to the lounge area on the foredeck. ‘At least you left your phone behind. Otherwise that would have been ruined too.’
He nodded, but with a shiver she saw that his face had taken on the same blank, shuttered look as earlier. Reminding him about his phone had been a stupid thing to do, she thought miserably. No doubt it had also reminded him of all the hours he’d wasted with her today.
‘I don’t want to talk about my phone,’ he said firmly. ‘It reminds me of work. Look... We’ve only got a few hours of daylight left, so I thought maybe we could go and take a look at Caprera.’
He lounged back in his chair, and she saw with relief that his face had softened and that he was smiling. ‘It should be right up your street. Unspoilt, wild and rugged. A bit like me!’
Flora poked him gently with her foot. ‘You might be wild and rugged, but you are definitely spoilt.’
She gave a yelp as he leaned forward swiftly and caught her ankle with his hand. Slowly and deliberately, he wrapped his fingers around the heel of her foot.
‘What exactly do you mean?’
Her lashes fluttered. ‘I mean that you own an eighty-metre yacht—’
‘She’s actually eighty-three metres. I just rounded it down to make things easier for you.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. You own an eighty-three-metre yacht, a palazzo. Probably a house—’ He held up his hand and she frowned. ‘You have five houses?’
Laughing he shook his head. ‘Apartments—not houses. And I have nine. I just couldn’t hold up enough fingers. I thought you might kick me if I let go of your foot!’
She giggled. ‘I have two feet, actually. Or did you round them down as well?’
He grinned and slid his hand down over her foot, pressing his thumb into the soft pad of flesh at the base of her toes.
Shifting in her seat, she tipped back her head. ‘That feels amazing...’ she mumbled.
‘This part of the foot is supposedly connected to your neck,’ he said slowly.
‘That’s so weird. My neck is actually tingling.’
She moaned softly. His fingers were caressing the underside of her heel, curling round to the hollow beneath her anklebone, drawing small, light circles over her skin. Leaning back against the chair, she felt boneless, her body melting beneath the sure, firm touch of his fingers.
And then her spine tightened and she arched upwards, heart pounding. ‘What’s that connected to?’ she asked shakily.
‘Can’t you tell?’ he murmured.
Her breath caught in her throat and, lifting her head, she stared at him dizzily. His eyes met hers and she swallowed at the dark intensity of their focus.
‘Massimo. You can’t—’ She breathed out unsteadily.
But he could.
Soon his fingers had found the spot that made her squirm. Her heart was beating slow and hard, her thighs trembling, her breath coming in gasps. She shifted in her seat, desperate to ease the aching tightness in her pelvis, but his hand tightened, securing her. She wriggled helplessly, her whole body straining against his grip, but he kept stroking her with same deliberate, light touch.
‘Please!’ she gasped.
His eyes locked onto hers, and he loosened his grip. But only momentarily.
‘I’ll scream,’ she said hoarsely.
He smiled. ‘I know.’
And then he lowered his head, and her fingers splayed out across the arms of the chair as she felt his tongue start to circle her anklebone with merciless, measured precision. Rolling back in her seat, she let go, crying out softly as her body split apart and a bright, wild sweetness spread over her skin.
For a moment every thought was blotted out. From somewhere far away, or maybe nearby, she felt him reach forward and pull her towards him. Her hands twitching against the hard muscles of his stomach, she lay against him until finally her breathing returned to normal.
She’d had no idea that was even possible. Or that she would respond like that. Her face grew warm and, feeling slightly embarrassed by her lack of sexual sophistication, she shifted position.
And gasped.
He was hard—not just hard. The thickness of his erection pressing against her felt shockingly large. Looking up at him, eyes wide, she opened her mouth to speak but he stopped her, pressing his finger gently against her lips.
‘It’s fine,’ he said quietly, his eyes clear and steady. ‘I can wait. If it’s you, I can wait for ever.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
MASSIMO’S WORDS HAD been more poetic than truthful, Flora admitted later as she stared out to sea, watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon. Not that she was complaining. It had been just as much her idea as his to keep things simple between them.
No feelings. No future. Just sex.
Well, she had certainly got what she wanted.
Having made it to his suite of cabins, they had spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, where Massimo had touched and teased her to orgasm after orgasm until finally she had pleaded exhaustion.
She felt her face grow warm. It had been so fierce, so intense. And so good. A fluttering rush like the wings of a hummingbird ran over her skin and, stretching out on the bed, she stared down at herself appraisingly. Then, pressing her legs together, she smiled, relishing the ache between her thighs.
Being with Massimo was a revelation. She’d enjoyed sex before, but she’d never realised it was possible to feel so aroused. It was an education—the positions, his intuitive understanding of what she would like. But it was more than that. She felt different when she was with him.
Flora curled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. Of course she felt different. Massimo lived in another world. Of limousines and chauffeurs. Of helicopters and homes on several different continents. He was friends with people who owned islands—actual islands. It wasn’t that his wealth mattered to her: it didn’t. But there was no point pretending that she was oblivious to it either.
She heard the door open and, turning, she sat up and started to laugh as Massimo came in wearing a pair of swim shorts covered in large luminous green dollar signs.
‘Are those yours? I’m not surprised you left them on the boat.’
He grinned at her. ‘Sadly, I didn’t. I thought we might want to use the pool later, so I sent Tommaso to go and buy us some swimwear.’ He frowned. ‘It was dollar signs or giant bananas. Apparently the selection was a little limited.’
She giggled. ‘Was it, though? Was it really?’
‘I suppose you’d have chosen the bananas?’
Still laughing, she met his eyes. ‘Only if they didn’t have any covered in very tiny chillies.’
He was still grinning. ‘It’s a pity you weren’t there to help him choose. A real pity...’ he said slowly.
She stared at him and then gave a yelp. ‘What did he get for me? Show me!’
Her mouth dropped open as Massimo reached into the pocket of his trunks and pulled out what appeared to be nothing more than three tiny triangles of bright orange fabric.
She stared at it in horror. �
��What is that?’
‘It’s a micro-bikini,’ he said helpfully. ‘Tommaso’s girlfriend has one just like it. Only hers is pink.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Bet you wish you had some trunks like mine now!’
She stuck her tongue out at him and, laughing, he dropped lightly onto the bed beside her and pulled her willing body against him.
Her pulse flickered. Even in those ridiculous shorts he looked utterly gorgeous, and his lean, tanned torso pressed snugly against her skin felt just as good as it looked.
Looking up, her heart gave a jolt as she met his gaze. His eyes were so blue that looking into them made her feel as though she were slipping beneath the sea. Instantly, her skin began to tingle.
‘We could share,’ she said huskily; her fingers were itching to touch him so badly she could hardly speak. ‘Maybe.’ He rubbed his face against hers, the bristles from his beard grazing her cheeks. ‘It depends. What will you give me in return?’
Staring down at her, he felt a happiness he’d forgotten existed—sweet and cold and sharp like a shot of limoncello. She was so incredibly sexy. He loved how responsive she was to his touch. Sex with her was like no sex he’d ever had. His heartbeat slowed. But it wasn’t just the sex. He liked her. She intrigued him; she made him laugh, and she teased him constantly, and yet this afternoon she’d managed to draw some of the pain from his heart.
Her hand slid over his stomach, her fingers tracing the line of dark hair disappearing beneath his shorts, and he pushed his thoughts away.
‘What do you want?’ she whispered.
In reply, he gave her a slow, sweet smile and began to tug deftly at the buttons of her shirt.
Somewhere across the room, his phone rang. His fingers faltered, and he glanced over his shoulder, feeling his stomach muscles knot together. It was his own fault. He should never have switched his phone back on. But either way he wasn’t going to answer it.
He shrugged. ‘It’s fine. They can wait. If it’s important they’ll ring back.’
Flora nodded. He was probably right. But something in his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
The phone was still ringing and, unable to stop herself, she said quickly, ‘Why don’t you answer it? I don’t mind—’
‘But I do,’ he said flatly.
He could feel it starting to rise up inside him. That same dark misery he’d felt as a child. Except he wasn’t a child any more, and he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone.
Frowning, he shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just—’ The phone stopped and he breathed out sharply. ‘It won’t be important.’
She wanted to ask him how he knew, but deliberately he reached out, curving his hand under her chin. Lowering his face, he kissed her hungrily. This was what he wanted, he thought urgently. This was all he needed to make the rest of the world vanish. Just him and Flora. Untouchable. Perfect. Like a scene in a snow globe.
Except—except that he would never need anyone. Need was just another word for hurt. He’d needed his father and his father had betrayed him. He would never forgive nor forget that pain. But he knew a way to blot it out—
Flora gave a soft moan as he kissed her again, parting her lips roughly. She gave herself up to the shivering heat creeping over her skin and then her breath jolted in her throat as he jerked her closer. Some part of her brain registered that there was tension, almost anger in his gesture, but she pushed the thought away for his lips were soft and sure on hers, his fingers surer still as they slid under her shirt, seeking the hard peaks of her nipples—
The phone rang again and she felt him flinch. At the same moment he broke away from her, cursing angrily under his breath.
She stared at him unsteadily. His skin was stretched taut across his cheekbones, his anger radiating to every corner of the room. She knew his fury and frustration weren’t directed at her, but somehow that didn’t make her feel much better. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and touched him lightly on the arm. ‘What is it?’
He didn’t look at her, just shook his head. ‘Nothing!’
The phone kept ringing and, running his fingers distractedly through his hair, he shook off her hand and stood up abruptly. It was intolerable. It was harassment.
‘I’m not doing this—’
Flora gaped at him. Doing what? Was he talking to her? Or about the phone call?
She watched in silence as he strode across the room and snatched up the phone. Yanking open the door, he disappeared into the corridor and a moment later she heard his voice.
Crouching on the bed, she felt her stomach turn over with misery.
She’d seen him angry. When he’d been upset with her he’d been wild and stormy. But this was far worse. This anger was coldly controlled. His clipped, staccato voice as lethal and hostile as machine gun fire. What could have happened to make him that furious?
But the answer to that was obvious, she thought, and her own anger was cold and hard, like a small, sharp stone. For even without being able to hear what was being said, it didn’t take a genius to work out that he was talking to a woman. Probably that Allegra girl he’d been so disparaging about in the café yesterday.
Her heart felt slow and heavy inside her chest. Was it only yesterday she’d sat in that café and listened to his lies? She felt a flicker of irritation. How could she have been so stupid? So gullible? All that talk of not wanting to share her when all the time he was fully intending to keep on sharing himself! But just because she might have been stupid enough to believe his lies once, it didn’t mean she had to let him treat her like a fool now.
She let out a shaky breath. She felt cold and shivery, and if she’d been the crying type it would have been a good time to cry, but instead she stood up and padded across the room. Picking up her clothes, she dragged them over her limbs, barely registering whether they were inside out or upside down. She had just slipped her feet into her shoes when the door opened and Massimo walked in.
He stared at her blankly, almost as though he didn’t recognise her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Leaving,’ she said coldly.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Because I took a phone call?’ He stared at her incredulously. ‘Isn’t that a little extreme?’
She took a quick breath. He was so manipulative! Twisting the facts and implying that she was overreacting when he’d just got off the phone from his girlfriend!
She glowered at him, so hurt and angry that she could hardly speak. ‘I’ll tell you what’s extreme. Your selfishness. Just because you’re rich and powerful and I’m not, it doesn’t mean you can just use me—’
Massimo interrupted her sharply. ‘How have I used you? We have an agreement—’
‘Had!’ she snapped back at him. ‘I told you I was happy to have sex with you if there was no one else involved.’
The confusion on his face was so genuine, so convincing, that she wanted badly to believe him and some of her anger faded. She frowned. ‘I heard you. You were arguing with someone—’ Her anger flared again. ‘And don’t try and tell me it was work. I’m not an idiot.’
There was a long, strained silence, and then Massimo said quietly, ‘No, you’re not. But it’s not what you think it is.’
Biting her lip, she looked away, her eyes drawn to a beautiful flame-coloured sunset outside the window. He was telling the truth. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted—no, needed some kind of explanation.
‘So who was it, then?’
His expression shifted. He met her gaze but didn’t say anything. Finally, he shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Her heart began to pound. ‘How can you say that? Of course it matters. You were upset—’
‘It’s not your problem.’
Feeling numb inside, Flora forced herself to focus on the sunset. It was so beautiful, so sim
ple. Just as today had been. Until now.
At what point had she become so stupid? She’d thought she was being so smart, so ‘modern’. But seriously, how could she ever have thought this would work? Of course it had been easy in theory, agreeing just to have sex. But the reality was far more complicated and growing ever more so because the truth was she no longer just wanted him, she cared about him too.
Glancing at Massimo’s still, set face, she swallowed what felt like a hard little lump in her throat. She cared that he was hurting. Even now, when he’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want or need her help, she still cared.
Because she liked him.
She liked him a lot, she thought miserably.
She might only have intended to share her body with him, but now she was in danger of sharing her heart. The lump in her throat swelled. Except that he didn’t want her heart. And, judging by the closed expression on his face, he certainly didn’t want to share his feelings.
Watching her swallow, Massimo gritted his teeth. He knew he was hurting her. But he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t tell her truth. Let her stay as she was: soft and light, shimmering with promise like the dawn of a spring morning. There was no need to blight her life by revealing how cruel the world really was.
But even though he couldn’t tell her the truth about the past, he could tell her how he was feeling now.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you, cara. Truly, it’s the last thing I want to do...’ He hesitated and stepped towards her. ‘If I could tell you I would. But I can’t. Please don’t hate me for that.’
She looked up at him, her gaze searching his face, and he felt his heart contract with shock—for there was no hatred in her eyes, just something that unbelievably looked like concern.
‘I don’t hate you,’ she said quietly. ‘I just don’t understand you. And that seems like a reason to leave to me.’
His heartbeat slowed. She was wavering. He could hear it in her voice. Impulsively, he leaned forward and pulled her closer. She pushed her hands against his chest, but it was a token gesture of resistance. Feeling a rush of triumph, he closed the gap between them.
A Deal Sealed by Passion Page 12