‘I met Donatella,’ she said.
‘I wondered if you would. She arrived late.’
‘I don’t give a damn when she arrived!’ She flung her sparkly scarlet clutch bag down onto a brocade sofa where it bounced against a tasselled cushion. ‘She told me you were supposed to be meeting her the night we got stuck in the snow!’
‘That much is true.’
She was so horrified by his easy agreement that Keira could barely choke out her next words. ‘So you were in a sexual relationship with another woman when you seduced me?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I was not. I’d been dating her for a few weeks, but it had never progressed beyond dinner and the occasional trip to the opera.’
‘And you expect me to believe that?’
‘Why wouldn’t you believe it, Keira?’
‘Because...’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘Because you didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would chastely court a woman like that.’
‘Strangely enough, that’s how I like to operate.’
‘But not with me,’ she said bitterly. ‘Or maybe you just didn’t think I was worth buying dinner for.’
Matteo tensed as he read the hurt and shame which clouded her sapphire eyes and was surprised how bad it made him feel. He knew he owed her an explanation but he sensed that this went deeper than anything he’d had to talk his way out of in the past, and part of him rebelled at having to lay his thoughts open. But he sensed there was no alternative. That despite the ease with which she had fallen into his arms, Keira Ryan was no pushover.
‘Oh, you were worth it, all right,’ he said softly. ‘Just because we didn’t do the conventional thing of having dinner doesn’t change the fact that it was the most unforgettable night of my life.’
‘Don’t tell me lies!’
‘It isn’t a lie, Keira,’ he said simply. ‘It was amazing. We both know that.’
He saw her face working, as if she was struggling to contain her emotions.
‘And then,’ she said, on a gulp, ‘when you got back—she says you didn’t see her again.’
‘Again, true.’
‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘There was nothing stopping you. Especially after you’d given me the heave-ho.’
If he was surprised by her persistence he didn’t show it and Matteo felt conflicted about how far to go with his answer. Mightn’t it be brutal to explain that he’d been so appalled at his recklessness that night that he’d decided he needed a break from women? If he told her that he’d never had a one-night stand before, because it went against everything he believed in, mightn’t it hurt her more than was necessary? He didn’t believe in love—not for him—but he believed in passion and, in his experience, it was always worth the wait. Deferred gratification increased the appetite and made seduction sweeter. And delaying his own pleasure reinforced his certainty that he was always in control.
Yet his usual fastidiousness had deserted him that snowy night when he’d found himself in bed with his petite driver, and it had affected him long after he’d returned to Italy. It wasn’t an admission he particularly wanted to make but something told him it would work well in his favour if he did. What was it the Americans said? Ah, sì. It would buy him brownie points. ‘I haven’t had sex with anyone since the night I spent with you. Well, until last night,’ he said.
Her eyes widened and the silence of the room was broken only by the loud ticking of the clock before she blurted out a single word.
‘Why?’ she breathed.
He bent to throw an unnecessary log onto the already blazing fire before straightening up to face the dazed disbelief which had darkened her eyes. He had tried convincing himself it had been self-disgust which had made him retreat into his shell when he’d returned to Rome, but deep down he’d known that wasn’t the whole story.
‘Because, annoyingly, I couldn’t seem to shift you from my mind,’ he drawled. ‘And before you start shaking your head like that and telling me I don’t mean it, let me assure you I do.’
‘But why?’ she questioned. ‘I mean, why me?’
He paused long enough to let her know that he’d asked himself the same question. ‘Who knows the subtle alchemy behind these things?’ He shrugged, his gaze roving over her as he drank in the creamy curves of her flesh. ‘Maybe because you were different. Because you spoke to me in a way that people usually don’t. Or maybe because you were a virgin and on some subliminal level I understood that and it appealed to me. Why are you looking at me that way, Keira? You think that kind of thing doesn’t matter? That a man doesn’t feel an incomparable thrill of pleasure to discover that he is the first and the only one? Then you are very wrong.’
Keira felt faint and sank down onto the brocade sofa, next to her discarded clutch bag. His words were shockingly old-fashioned but that didn’t lessen their impact on her, did it? It didn’t stop her from feeling incredibly desired as his black gaze skated over her body and hinted at the things he might like to do to her.
Did her lips open of their own accord or did he somehow orchestrate her reaction from his position by the fireplace—like some puppet master twitching invisible strings? Was that why a hard gleam suddenly entered his eyes as he walked towards her and pulled her to her feet.
‘I think we’re done with talking, don’t you?’ he questioned unsteadily. ‘Haven’t I answered all your questions and told you everything you need to know?’
‘Matteo, I—’
‘I’m going to make love to you again,’ he said, cutting right through her protest. ‘Only this time it’s going to be in a bed and it’s going to be all night long. And please don’t pretend you’re outraged by the idea, when the look on your face says otherwise.’
‘Or maybe you’re just going to do it to pacify me?’ she challenged. ‘Like you did last night.’
‘Last night we were in the middle of a howling storm and I wasn’t really thinking straight, but today I am.’
And with that he lifted her up into his arms and swept her from the room and it occurred to Keira that no way would she have objected to such masterful treatment, even if he had given her the option. Because wasn’t he making her feel like a woman who was completely desired—a woman for whom nothing but pleasure beckoned? Up the curving marble staircase he carried her, her ear pressed closely to his chest so she could hear the thundering of his heart. It felt like something from a film as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind them. Unreal. Just as the excitement coursing through her body felt unreal. Was it wrong to feel this rush of hungry pleasure as Matteo unzipped the scarlet dress and let it fall carelessly onto the silken rug? Or for her to gasp out words of encouragement from lips soon swollen by the pressure of his kiss?
Her bra swiftly followed and she gave a squeal of protesting pleasure as he hooked his fingers into the edges of her panties and ripped them apart and didn’t that thrill her, too? Showing similar disregard for his own clothes, he tore them from his body like a man with the hounds of hell snapping at his ankles. But once they were both naked on the bed, he slowed things right down.
‘These curves,’ he said unevenly as his fingertips trickled over her breasts and hips.
‘You don’t like them?’ she questioned breathlessly.
‘Whatever gave you that idea? I seem to like you lean and I seem to like you rounded. Any way at all is okay with me, Keira.’
Slowly, he ran his fingertip from neck to belly before sliding it down between her thighs, nudging it lightly against her wet heat in a lazy and rhythmical movement. She shivered and had to stifle a frustrated moan as he moved his hand away. But then his mouth began to follow the same path as his fingers and Keira held her breath as she felt his lips acquainting themselves with the soft tangle of hair at her groin before he burrowed his head deep between her legs and made that first unbelievable flick of his tongue against her slick and heated flesh.
‘Matteo!’ she gasped, almost shooting off the bed with pleasure. ‘What...what are you doing?’<
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He lifted his head and she saw pure devilry in his black eyes. ‘I’m going to eat you, cara mia,’ he purred, before bending his head to resume his task.
Keira let her head fall helplessly back against the pillow as he worked sweet magic with his tongue, loving the way he imprisoned her wriggling hips with the firm clamp of his hands. She came so quickly that it took her by surprise—as did the sudden way he moved over her to thrust deep inside her, while her body was still racked with those delicious spasms. She clung to his shoulders as he started a sweet, sure rhythm which set senses singing.
But suddenly his face hardened as he grew still inside her. ‘How long do you think I can stop myself from coming?’ he husked.
‘Do you...?’ She could barely get the words out when he was filling her like this. ‘Do you have to stop yourself?’
‘That depends. I do if you’re going to have a second orgasm, which is my intention,’ he murmured. ‘In fact, I’m planning to make you come so often that you’ll have lost count by the morning.’
‘Oh, Matteo.’ She closed her eyes as he levered himself to his knees and went even deeper.
She moaned as the finger moved between their joined bodies to alight on the tight nub between her legs and began to rub against her while he was deep inside her. The pleasure it gave her was almost too much to bear and it felt as if she were going to come apart at the seams. She gasped as pleasure and pressure combined in an unstoppable force. Until everything splintered around her. She heard him groan as his own body starting to convulse before eventually collapsing on top of her, his head resting on her shoulder and his shuddered breath hot and rapid against her neck.
His arms tightened around her waist and for countless seconds Keira felt as if she were floating on a cloud. Had he really told her he hadn’t slept with anyone else because he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind? Yes, he had. With a sigh of satisfaction, she rested her cheek against his shoulder and he murmured something soft in Italian in response.
She lay there for a long time after he’d fallen asleep, thinking that sex could blind you to the truth. Or maybe lull you into such a stupefied state that you stopped seeking the truth. He’d commented on her curves and admired them with his hands, but he’d made no mention of why her body had undergone such a dramatic transformation. She bit her lip. Because she’d carried his son and given birth to him—a fact he seemed to find all too easy to forget.
And she thought how—despite the heart-stopping intimacy of what had just taken place—she still didn’t know Matteo at all.
CHAPTER TEN
SHE HAD TO say something. She had to. She couldn’t keep pretending nothing was wrong or that there weren’t still a million questions buzzing around in her head which needed answering.
Keira turned her head to look at the face of the man who lay sleeping beside her. It was a very big bed, which was probably a good thing since Matteo Valenti’s naked body was taking up most of it. Morning light flooded in from the two windows they hadn’t bothered closing the shutters on before they’d tumbled into bed the night before. From here she could see the green of the landscape which spread far into the distance and, above it, the endless blue of the cloudless sky. It was the most perfect of mornings, following the most perfect of nights.
She hugged her arms around herself and gave a wriggle of satisfaction. She’d never thought she could feel the way Matteo had made her feel. But the clock was ticking away and she needed to face reality. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was wonderful just because they’d spent an amazing night together. He’d said he wanted to explore the possibility of them becoming a couple but there was more to being a couple than amazing sex. How could they keep ignoring the gaping hole at the centre of their relationship which neither of them had addressed? He for reasons unknown and she...
She turned her attention from the distraction of the view to the dark head which lay sleeping beside her. Was she too scared to ask him, was that it?
Because the most important thing was all out of kilter and the longer it went on, the worse it seemed. Matteo acted as if Santino didn’t exist. As if he didn’t have a son. To her certain knowledge, he’d never even cuddled him—why, he’d barely even asked after him.
It didn’t matter how many boxes the Italian ticked—she could never subject Santino to a life in which he was overlooked. And trying to compensate for his father’s lack of regard with her own fierce love wouldn’t work. She’d grown up in a house where she had been regarded as an imposition and no way was she going to impose that on her darling son.
Which left her with two choices. She could carry on being an ostrich and ignore what was happening—or rather, what wasn’t happening. Or she could address the subject when Matteo woke and make him talk about it. She wouldn’t accuse him or judge him. Whatever he told her, she would try to understand—because something told her that was very important.
Quietly, she slipped from the bed and went to the bathroom and when she returned with brushed teeth and hair, Matteo was awake—his black gaze following her as she walked back towards the bed.
‘Morning,’ she said shyly.
‘Is this the point where I ask whether you slept well and you lower your eyelids and say, not really?’ he murmured.
Blushing like a schoolgirl, Keira slipped rapidly beneath the covers so that her naked body was no longer in the spotlight of that disturbingly erotic stare. It was all very well being uninhibited when the room was in darkness but the bright morning light was making her feel awfully vulnerable. Especially as she sensed that Matteo wasn’t going to like what she had to say, no matter how carefully she asked the question. He drew her into his arms but she gave him only the briefest of kisses before pulling her lips away. Because he needed to hear this, and the sooner, the better.
‘Matteo,’ she said, rubbing the tip of her finger over the shadowed angle of his jaw.
His brows knitted together. ‘Why does my heart sink when you say my name that way?’ he questioned softly.
She swallowed. ‘You know we have to go back to Umbria soon.’
‘You think I’d forgotten? Which is why I suggest we don’t waste any of the time we have left.’
He had begun to stroke a light thumb over one of her nipples and although it puckered obediently beneath his touch, Keira pushed his hand away. ‘And we need to talk,’ she said firmly.
‘And that was why my heart sank,’ he drawled, shifting his body to lie against the bank of pillows and fixing her with a hooded look. ‘Why do women always want to talk instead of making love?’
‘Usually because something needs to be said.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘I want to tell you about when I was growing up.’
The look on his face said it all. Wrong place; wrong time. ‘I met your aunt,’ he said impatiently. ‘Over-strict guardian, small house, jealous cousin. I get it. You didn’t have such a great time.’
Keira shook her head as uncomfortable thoughts flooded into her mind. She needed to be completely honest, else how could she expect complete honesty in return? Yet what she was about to tell him wasn’t easy. She’d never told anyone the full story. Even her aunt. Especially her aunt. ‘I told you my mother wasn’t married and that I didn’t know my father. What I didn’t tell you was that she didn’t know him either.’
His gaze was watchful now. ‘What are you talking about?’
Keira flushed to the roots of her hair because she could remember her mother’s shame when she’d finally blurted out the story, no longer able to evade the curious questions of her young daughter. Would her mother be appalled if she knew that Keira was now repeating the sorry tale, to a man with a trace of steel running through his veins?
‘My mother was a student nurse,’ she said slowly, ‘who came to London and found it was nothing like the rural farm she’d grown up on in Ireland. She was quite shy and very naïve but she had those Irish looks. You know, black hair and blue eyes—’
‘Like yours?’ he i
nterrupted softly.
She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. She was much prettier than me. Men were always asking her out but usually she preferred to stay in the nurses’ home and watch something on TV, until one night she gave in and went to a party with a group of the other nurses. It was a pretty wild party and not her kind of thing at all. People were getting wasted and Mum decided she didn’t want to stay.’ She swallowed. ‘But by then it was too late because someone had...had...’
‘Someone had what, Keira?’ he questioned as her words became strangled and his voice was suddenly so gentle that it made her want to cry.
‘Somebody spiked her drink,’ she breathed, the words catching like sand in her throat because even now, they still had the power to repulse her. ‘She...she woke up alone in a strange bed with a pain between her legs, and soon after that she discovered she was pregnant with me.’
He gave a terse exclamation and she thought he was going to turn away in disgust but to her surprise he reached out to push away the lock of hair which had fallen over her flushed cheeks, before slipping his hand round her shoulder and pulling her against the warmth of his chest. ‘Bastardo,’ he swore softly and then repeated it, for added emphasis.
She shook her head and could feel the taste of tears nudging at the back of her throat and at last she gave into them, in a way she’d never done before. ‘She didn’t know how many men had been near her,’ she sobbed. ‘She had to go to the clinic to check she hadn’t been given some sort of disease and of course they offered her...’ She swallowed away the tears because she saw from the tightening of his jaw that she didn’t actually need to spell it out for him. ‘But she didn’t want that. She wanted me,’ she said simply. ‘There wasn’t a moment of doubt about that.’
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