by Sarah Morgan
‘Stop crying.’
Appalled that he knew she was crying, Lindsay froze. ‘I’m not crying.’
He muttered something in Italian. ‘I tell you now,’ he said roughly, ‘I have absolutely no experience in comforting women. It isn’t something I excel at. Ask anyone.’ He hesitated. ‘Normally I’m the one making them cry.’
Lindsey gave a choked laugh. ‘I can believe that. But for once you’re not to blame. Everything you said is right. I might even get round to thanking you at some point. And you don’t need to worry—I don’t want comfort.’ She sniffed and scrubbed a hand over her face, relieved that it was dark. ‘Anyway, I thought you had to be the best at everything.’
‘Only the things that interest me. Strangely enough I have no ambitions to excel at drying women’s tears,’ he drawled softly, ‘but on this one occasion, given that I’m the cause of your upset, I’m prepared to make an exception.’
Realising just how great a sacrifice that was on his part, she almost managed to smile. This must be almost as bad for him as it was for her. ‘You’re not the cause. Go to sleep, Alessio.’
But his strong, warm hand didn’t move from her shoulder. ‘This rug is the only dry thing in the place and I’d like to keep it that way. Stop feeling guilty about your sister.’
‘Why?’ She mumbled the words, wondering why she was discussing it with him. Alessio Capelli wasn’t anyone’s idea of a perfect confidant. ‘It’s all my fault.’
‘It isn’t your fault. I keep telling you, Ruby is responsible for what she does.’
‘I’ve stopped her talking to me.’
‘And what if she had talked to you? You would have been given a running commentary on all her wild behaviour and it would have driven you crazy with stress. You wouldn’t have said anything, but you still would have felt it. You’re much better off not knowing.’ His tone rang with exasperation and she almost laughed.
‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘It is easy. It’s time to toughen up, Lindsay,’ he said gruffly. ‘How have you managed to get through the past two decades when you worry so much about everything?’
‘I don’t really worry—’
‘You’re avoiding life because you’re afraid of it.’
Lindsay stilled. ‘That isn’t true.’
‘You’re worried that your sister will be hurt and maybe she will—’ his voice was low and male in the darkness ‘—but maybe she will have an affair that she will remember for ever. Memories of real passion that will last long after the hurt has faded. What will you have, Lindsay? The memory of dangerously exciting moments that you successfully resisted?’
He was right, she realised painfully. She was afraid. Afraid of falling into the same trap as the couples she counselled, afraid of being drawn into the wrong decision, afraid of being like her mother….
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. ‘You live dangerously all the time. So how do you manage never to be hurt?’
‘I don’t let people get close.’
‘But what sort of life is that?’
There was a moment of silence and then he gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’m not the one lying on the rug crying, Lindsay.’
‘Caring for people and having people care about you is the only really important thing in life.’ It was just because it was dark, she told herself, that it was easy to talk to him.
‘And is it worth caring even when you get hurt?’
‘Even then. It’s what makes us human.’
‘Ah—but you told me only a few days ago that I’m not human, so that explains why we think differently.’
She could hear the trace of humour in his voice. ‘I thought life was straightforward. But everything suddenly seems so complicated.’
‘Relationships always are. That’s why I avoid them.’
‘But you can’t just go through life avoiding relationships. Relationships—love—well, that’s what makes life bearable, isn’t it?’
‘Relationships—maybe. Love? Definitely not. In fact I’d go as far as to say that love is probably one of the things that often makes life unbearable. Believe me, I see it all the time.’
‘But the people you see aren’t in love anymore. Perhaps they never were.’
‘There are other types of relationships.’
‘I know. And that’s where I’ve let Ruby down,’ Lindsay admitted, relieved that it was dark so that he couldn’t see her face. Somehow the dark made it easier to talk. ‘We’re very different like that. I was always worried that she would confuse chemistry with love and I’ve seen so many relationships fall apart because all the couple shared was chemistry. I’ve never contemplated being in a relationship that was just about sex.’
It was a moment before he answered and when he finally spoke his voice was soft in the darkness.
‘Haven’t you?’
A shiver of awareness ripped through her whole body and she didn’t pretend to misunderstand him.
‘Well—maybe I have. Once.’ Her heart was thumping and bumping against her chest, as if it were trying to escape while there was still a chance.
His fingers tightened on her shoulder. ‘You have willpower that most people would envy.’
‘If you’re talking about us, then we would have been a nightmare together, you know we would.’
He gave a low laugh and rolled her gently onto her back. ‘It would have been explosive, tesoro. And you know it. Which is why you’ve been holding back. What’s wrong with sexual attraction, Lindsay?’
‘Nothing, as long as both parties recognise it for what it is. Ruby doesn’t.’
This was the time that she should push him away. This was the time she should tell him that, although she’d realised she’d handled Ruby all wrong, she didn’t want to change the way she lived herself. She wasn’t about to hurl herself from a place of safety into the dangerous unknown of raw sexual excitement.
She should tell him that. She should tell him that right now.
But she couldn’t manage to form the words. Instead her hand slid over his shoulder, feeling the hard curve of male muscle under her seeking fingers.
This level of chemistry wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before—and probably never would again.
If she let it pass, would she regret it?
Would she look back in her old age and think, If only?
Or would she smile and tell her grandchildren that passion wasn’t always dangerous, as long as you recognised it for what it was?
There would be no ‘happy ever after’ with Alessio Capelli, but she knew that, didn’t she? It wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice.
‘Lindsay—’ The husky, questioning note in his voice made her realise that her hand had curved around his neck.
She sensed that he was holding back—that this was all up to her—but she had no more time to agonise over her decision because her hands were drawing his head towards hers.
Apparently it was all the encouragement he needed because he instantly took control, his hands not quite steady as he rolled her onto her back and covered her body with his.
It seemed that her senses still remembered how he’d kissed her on the beach, and a pool of heat coiled itself in her pelvis and she waited in an agony of anticipation for the slow, skilled assault of his mouth.
Only this time he didn’t give her slow.
This time he brought his mouth down on hers with a driven sense of purpose that propelled her from a state of simmering anticipation to explosive excitement. Hot with longing, she felt him cup her face with lean, strong hands and then part her lips with his tongue. He took her mouth with devastating expertise, his demanding and intimate exploration creating erotic curls of heat low in her pelvis.
It was like being drugged and her last coherent thought was, How did he learn to kiss like this? Before she slid down and down into a sensual world that was beyond her control.
Her senses connected like an electric circuit, sending sparks to every par
t of her and she was lost, totally lost.
She pressed herself against his hard, powerful body, felt the roughness of his thigh graze against the softness of hers, felt the scrape of stubble against her cheek as he dragged his mouth from hers only to bury it in her neck.
‘Alessio—I can’t wait—don’t wait—’ She writhed, lost in the sensation he was creating. ‘Please—’ But her plea turned to a moan as she felt his mouth fasten over the pink, throbbing tip of her breast. Up until that moment she hadn’t even realised that he’d removed her costume and suddenly she was aware that she was naked. But the feeling that engulfed her wasn’t embarrassment, but desperation.
It seemed that the more he touched her, the more she wanted, and when she felt his hand reach down between her thighs she gave a low moan of encouragement that changed to a gasp as she felt the skilled slide of his fingers.
She felt wild, desperate and totally unlike herself, writhing against him as she tried to relieve the unbearable ache in her pelvis.
‘You feel so good, tesoro,’ Alessio groaned and then gently moved his hand, cupped her bottom and positioned her to his satisfaction.
For a breathless moment she felt the hot, silken tip of his erection against her, and then he brought his mouth down on hers again and entered her with a series of controlled thrusts that drove the breath from her body. He was big, so big that for a moment she tensed, and he must have sensed her sudden apprehension because he paused for a moment and lifted his mouth from hers just enough to speak.
‘I’m hurting you?’
‘No, I—no—’
‘Then relax, tesoro,’ he instructed huskily, ‘and let your body do what it is desperate to do.’ But he lowered his mouth to hers again and kissed her until the explicit movement of his tongue in her mouth made her rake her fingers over the smooth muscle of his shoulders.
She whimpered deep in her throat and he lifted her hips and sank himself deep inside her, his eyes half-open as he watched her abandoned response. And then he withdrew slightly and did it again, creating waves of pure pulsing pleasure that consumed her entire body.
Completely out of control, she clung to him, her cries smothered by his mouth, her body hovering on the edge of ecstasy as he drove her higher and higher. And then finally, when she thought she couldn’t possibly go on any longer, her body exploded around him and the rhythmic pulse of her moist flesh drove him to his own completion.
Alessio held her firmly as he surged into her over and over again and his rhythmic thrusts prolonged her own sensual ecstasy until the whole experience became one long shower of intolerable excitement.
He woke to sunshine and silence and even before he turned his head to glance around the room, he knew he was alone.
The storm had blown itself out and bright shards of sunlight shone like spotlights through the windows of the cottage.
But there was no Lindsay.
Experienced in the art of shifting reluctant women from his bed, Alessio found it something of a surprise to realise that at some point Lindsay had actually left without disturbing him.
The fact that she hadn’t waited around for soft words or even a repeat performance, astonished him. He waited to feel relieved but instead he felt a thud of—
What, exactly?
Disappointment?
Well, of course, disappointment. Just as he’d predicted, it had been the most explosive sexual encounter of his life and he’d had no intention of restricting himself to one night.
Slightly irritated that they couldn’t have started the day the way they’d ended it, Alessio sprang to his feet, retrieved his swimming shorts and glanced around the cottage.
Exactly when had she left? And why?
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t enjoyed the experience. Remembering her soft cries and passionate response, he gave a slow smile. She’d definitely enjoyed the experience—which made her absence all the more strange.
Yanking open the door, he strode out onto the beach that had been the venue for her trauma the night before. A few pieces of driftwood had been washed up in the storm but the sea was now idyllically calm. And there was no sign of Lindsay.
A faint frown touching his brows, Alessio strode across the soft sand and followed the curve of the bay back towards the cove where he’d secured the boat. The sky was a perfect blue, the sun dazzling, it was as if the storm of the night before had never happened.
A splash drew his attention and Alessio saw a flash of blonde hair and creamy female skin. It was Lindsay, and she was swimming far out in the bay. As he watched she dived under the surface again and vanished.
In the grip of a serious attack of lust, Alessio strode purposefully into the waves, plunged under the water and powered his way over to where she was snorkelling.
‘Oh—’ She surfaced with a gasp, her hair sleek and wet against her head, a bright smile on her face. ‘You made me jump! It’s such a beautiful day.’
That was it? That was all she was going to say?
‘Buon giorno.’ He watched with masculine satisfaction as the colour bloomed in her cheeks, but still she made no reference to what had happened the previous night.
Instead she dragged her gaze from his and concentrated on staring down into the water. ‘It’s so clear—I’ve never seen anything like this. I just couldn’t resist having another go before we leave. Snorkelling is just the best thing.’
Not quite the best thing, Alessio thought to himself idly, his attention suddenly captured by the droplets of water on her soft mouth. Her lower lip was a full, generous curve. Remembering just how good she tasted, he was about to kiss her when she dived under the water again.
Simmering with frustration and tormented by the nagging throb of his body, Alessio cursed softly and wondered why it was that Lindsay continually surprised him.
During his walk from the cottage to the beach, he’d prepared himself to handle various different emotions from her—embarrassment, affection, regret?
The one thing that he hadn’t expected was that she’d make no reference to what they’d shared. At the very least, he’d resigned himself to a conversation about what had happened between them.
There were women, of course, who could enjoy the passionate encounter they’d experienced the night before and move on without a word.
But Lindsay wasn’t that sort of woman.
Frowning slightly, he watched as she surfaced again.
‘I saw a shoal of clownfish next to the reef! Honestly, Alessio, this is just the best thing I’ve ever done.’ Wiping the water from her face, she smiled at him. ‘Aren’t you going to swim?’
Swim?
Simmering with suppressed sexual tension, Alessio searched her wide blue eyes for signs that she was creating this torture on purpose. But there was no flirtatious twinkle or wicked gleam, and in the end he was forced to admit that she obviously had absolutely no idea of the effect she was having on him.
Which gave him a whole new problem. Usually at this point in a relationship, the woman in question was snuggled against him, already planning a future that wasn’t going to happen. Usually his problem was extracting himself, so it came as something of a shock to discover that he had no desire whatsoever to extricate himself from Lindsay.
Distinctly unsettled by just how badly he wanted to drag her back to the cottage, Alessio dipped down under the surface of the water, consoling himself with the fact that it was perfectly natural to want her again. While it was true that he didn’t exactly embrace long relationships, neither did he indulge in one-night stands. So everything he was feeling was entirely normal.
He just needed to get her back in his bed until—well, until he no longer wanted her in his bed.
Simple.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EXHAUSTED from the lack of sleep, a night of rampant sex and the stress of acting a part, Lindsay sat in the bow of the yacht, facing forwards. The energy required to behave in a bright, happy mood had completely sapped the last of her reserves.
&
nbsp; She barely even remembered the storm. For her, the hurricane had been inside her, a wind of change, blowing aside her all her old beliefs and leaving them wrecked and in pieces.
She felt—she felt—
Lindsay lifted her chin and turned her face to the sun. She wasn’t going to ask herself how she felt. She didn’t dare ask herself how she felt because she didn’t want to know the answer.
And what difference did it make, anyway?
He wasn’t going to be interested in her feelings. Alessio Capelli didn’t do feelings. She knew that. He was famous for it, wasn’t he? No ties. No emotions.
And she wasn’t going to allow herself to mind that he hadn’t once mentioned what had happened the previous night—hadn’t even kissed her.
For a brief, disturbing moment her mind flickered back to the intensity of what they’d shared and she clutched the rail more tightly.
‘Lindsay, come here.’ His cool command sent shivers of awareness down her spine and for a moment she hesitated. She wasn’t actually sure that she had the energy to keep up the pretence of normality. But if she didn’t go—
Forcing herself to think neutral thoughts, she turned and strolled to the back of the boat.
He handled the boat with confidence and a sure touch, dark glasses shading his eyes from the harsh rays of the sun. ‘You need to wear a hat. You’ll burn.’ Reaching down, he picked up a hat and slipped it onto her head in a decisive gesture. ‘You’re very fair. You need to be careful.’
Careful?
Lindsay swallowed back the hysterical laugh that almost burst from her throat. Careful? If she’d wanted to be careful, then she wouldn’t have spent the night the way she had. What they’d shared hadn’t been remotely careful. It had been reckless, wild and totally abandoned. ‘I thought you were encouraging me to take more risks.’
‘Sunburn is a certainty,’ he drawled, ‘not a risk. And it’s painful.’
Suddenly she was grateful for the hat. She pulled at the wide brim, shading her features and, hopefully, her facial expression. And she wondered what had made her naïvely think that she’d be able to share one incredible night with him and then walk away as if nothing had happened.