Italian Surgeon to the Stars

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Then why were you seen having dinner with him last night?’

  I wondered who had seen us. I hadn’t noticed anyone—although that didn’t mean no one had been there. I’d been more than a little distracted by Alessandro’s company. Not to mention having that tongue-loosening glass of wine. Anyone could have seen us and reported it back to the school gossip network.

  ‘We met to discuss Claudia’s specific educational issues,’ I said, with just the slightest elevation of my chin.

  Lucy snorted. ‘And what did you do after that?’

  I pressed my lips together and then blew out a breath. ‘Actually, he came back to my place and sorted out a health issue of my father’s. He transferred him to London and operated on him this morning.’

  Lucy looked a little taken aback. ‘Is your father all right?’

  ‘He’s fine,’ I said. ‘Al—Dr Lucioni texted me during break.’

  In fact, Alessandro had called me and left a very reassuring voicemail, telling me how much he was looking forward to seeing me tonight, but I didn’t want her to know that.

  ‘Everything went well. My father will be out of hospital in a couple of days.’

  Lucy was still looking at me as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not. ‘You’re a seriously dark horse, Jem Clark. You could be sleeping with the guy and your own mother wouldn’t know.’

  You can bet on that, I thought as I collected my things before I left.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I WAS STILL running on caffeine when the doorbell rang to announce Alessandro’s arrival. I opened the door to see him standing there with a bunch of creamy tea-roses. How on earth had he remembered I wasn’t a red roses girl?

  The delicacy, the subtle fragrance and the old-fashioned quality of those blooms took my breath away. I buried my head in the bouquet to disguise my reaction. Not that it worked. If I’d wanted to disguise how much his gesture meant to me I probably should have tossed them aside as if they were a bunch of cheap supermarket fragrance-free blooms. But it was too late now. I breathed in the gorgeous scent while the velvet-soft petals tickled my face.

  ‘Your father is making an amazing recovery,’ he said.

  ‘Which he and my mother no doubt put down to the fact that they haven’t eaten meat or been anywhere near a processed item of food in the last thirty-odd years,’ I said.

  He smiled. ‘Your mother has been down to the kitchen and revamped the hospital menu—or at least tried to.’

  I rolled my eyes and carried the roses to the sink, so I could put them in water before they could wilt.

  ‘I had a breakthrough with Claudia today.’

  ‘So she said.’

  I swung around to face him. ‘You’ve seen her?’

  ‘I called in to the boarding house on my way past,’ he said. ‘She was just getting ready for bed. She told me about the drama lesson. She loved it, by the way.’

  I turned on the tap to fill the vase I’d selected. Selected? Snort. I only had one. Just shows how often anyone brings me flowers. I made a little fuss over the way the blooms were positioned rather than look at him. I had a feeling he was getting far too good at reading me.

  ‘She was a natural,’ I said. ‘She didn’t stutter at all. I want her to take the lead role in the end-of-term play. It’ll be great for her confidence. I just know she’ll be brilliant.’

  He came up behind me, put his hands on my shoulders and turned me. His eyes held mine with such warmth I felt something slip inside my stomach.

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you for what you’re doing.’

  ‘Yes, well—when it comes to thanks, what about what you did today?’ I countered. ‘You saved my father’s life.’

  He shrugged one of his shoulders. ‘Any decent cardiac surgeon could’ve done that.’

  I reached up with my hand and stroked his stubble-covered jaw. ‘Yes, but you did it—and then drove all the way back down here to call in on Claudia and catch up with me.’

  ‘Ah, yes, but I have an ulterior motive when it comes to you.’

  ‘Let me guess. You want to get laid?’

  He cupped my face in both his hands, his expression so darkly serious and intent it made something inside my chest quiver like a moth was trapped between my ribs.

  ‘I don’t want to pressure you into something you’re not ready for,’ he said, in that gravel-and-honey tone.

  I’m ready! I wanted to shout. But the thirteen-year-old girl inside me appreciated his sensitivity. Oh, how she appreciated it! Adored it. Clung to it. Was healed by it.

  ‘I want you,’ I said, shocked at how much truth there was in that bald statement. I had never wanted anyone before him or since. I had no sex drive. Zero. Zilch. Nada. But when it came to him it was like a switch had been turned to ‘on’. And not just on but flashing with neon lights.

  I put my hands on the top of his shoulders, drawing him closer, feeling the heat of his aroused body next to my starving, aching one. ‘Make love to me,’ I said, in a whisper-soft voice.

  His mouth came down and covered mine, fusing it with heat, with passion, and yet with such excruciating tenderness I felt tears gather at the back of my eyes. I kissed him back, with all the passion I had suppressed for so long. It came bursting out of me like a centuries-old fountain that had been blocked.

  I heard him groan as our tongues met and tangled. I felt his erection surge against me as he gathered me closer. The heat that flared between us was like a wildfire. And yet he kept control of it. He held me as if I was a delicate bloom that would be bruised and crushed by rough handling.

  I could feel my frozen heart melting, as if someone had aimed a laser-hot beam at it. I desperately tried to keep the crusty old armour that had guarded my heart for so long in place, but it was like trying to defend an ice cream cone from a naked flame. I was oozing with feeling. With feelings I’d locked away for years.

  He kissed my mouth with aching tenderness. Then he trailed his mouth down my neck, lingering over my collarbone, moving to the valley of my cleavage. His tongue lit a fire beneath my flesh, making every nerve go off like a firecracker. I could feel that racing river of fire running along my nerve-endings. It was running out of control—along with my pulse.

  His hands moved down my body, skating over my breasts without lingering. I wanted more. I wanted him to possess them, to palpate them as he had done in the past. I whimpered and pressed closer, urging him to take things to the next level.

  He put his hands on my hips, holding me to his arousal. Letting me know how much he wanted me and yet letting me set the pace. There was no pressure. Not like I’d felt in the past. Wasn’t that why I had struggled with anyone else as a sexual partner? I had never trusted them. I had never trusted them to gauge when I was out of my comfort zone.

  Only Alessandro had done that. Had intuited that even without knowing what had happened to me.

  I moaned with approval against his mouth as it covered mine again. I opened it to welcome his tongue back in, stroked mine along it and around it, sucking on it to make him aware of how much I wanted him.

  He made a similar sound of approval as he released my hair from its tie. It cascaded around my shoulders and he took a handful of it as he angled my head for a deeper kiss.

  I got to work on his clothes, but my fingers were in too much of a hurry. His hands came to the rescue, releasing buttons so I could slide my hands over the sexy planes and contours of his chest. He had just the right amount of chest hair. Call me old-fashioned, but I love a man who isn’t ‘manscaped’. My fingers spread through those tight whorls and then I pressed my mouth to his sternum, running my tongue down and then over and around each of his flat nipples.

  He tipped my head back up and slowly slid my shirt off my shoulders, revealing just enough skin for his mouth to tease and tempt. I shivered as his lips moved over my bare flesh. My nipples tightened in anticipation inside the lacy cups of my bra. He slid the strap of my bra over my shoulder and trailed his hot
mouth over the upper curve of my breast.

  He didn’t go anywhere near my nipple. He explored every other slope, leaving me in a state of frenzied sexual excitement. I pushed myself towards him. Wanton, I know, but I was going to die if he didn’t take my breast—or what he could get of it—in his mouth.

  And then he did it.

  It was just as breathtaking as I remembered. Maybe even more so. His lips closed around my nipple, softly at first—a teasing little touch that made my sensitive nerves go haywire. Then he used his teeth in a light graze that made the hairs on the back of my neck dance at their roots. He did the same thing to my other breast, his touch so mind-blowing, I whimpered in delight.

  He kissed his way back to my mouth, subjecting it to another passionate exchange that made my inner core coil with want. I put my arms around his neck, linking them behind his head, kissing him with such vigour I could feel the rasp of his stubble on my chin.

  He eased back and lifted me in his arms, then carried me to the bedroom. You might wonder how he knew which one was mine, but the detritus of my parents’ aborted stay was still evident in the spare room. I hadn’t had the time or the inclination to clean it up.

  Alessandro laid me down on the bed, but he didn’t come down on top of me as he might have done in the past. He sat to one side of me, stroked my face as if I were young child.

  ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he said.

  ‘What part of I want you are you not getting?’ I said, tugging at the collar of his shirt so his head came down.

  He kissed me softly as he joined me on the bed.

  We were still wearing way too many clothes. I started on his trousers and he got working on mine. It was a mutual journey of discovery. I loved finding him again—the heat and strength and potent power of him springing out from the confines of his underwear made something deep in my core shudder in rapture.

  He slowly peeled away my clothes until I was just in my knickers. Thankfully they were my best ones. Bertie bought them for me a couple of birthdays ago, but I’d pushed them to the back of the drawer as I thought they were too girly and feminine for me. They were black lace, with little pink bows on the hips.

  Alessandro obviously liked them. I saw his eyes darken as he stroked his finger down the seam of my body. The sensation of his touch through the almost sheer lace made my back arch off the bed. I could feel my dampness. I was sure he could too as he gently peeled the lace away from my body and brought his mouth down.

  I shivered all over as his lips touched me. I wished I’d had time to wax, but he didn’t seem to mind. He separated me so tenderly; worshipping me with such achingly poignant reverence I had to blink back tears.

  I realised then that he was my first lover in all the ways that counted. He had shown me how to experience pleasure. He had shown me what my body was capable of, how it responded to touch and carefully timed caresses. He had never touched me in a way I wasn’t comfortable with. He had always treated me with the utmost respect and consideration. He had not selfishly satisfied his needs with no thought to mine.

  He must have sensed my emotional response, for he stopped his gentle ministrations and came back up to look deeply into my eyes.

  ‘Too much?’

  I bit my lip and shook my head, suddenly incapable of speech.

  He stroked the underside of my chin. ‘I’ve given you beard rash.’

  I could feel my chin wobbling, so I bit down even harder on my lip. His hand cradled my cheek, his eyes so dark and meltingly soft I knew I was a goner.

  ‘You have the most beautiful mouth,’ he said, stroking my bottom lip so I could no longer savage it. ‘So soft…so sweet.’

  ‘I like yours too.’ My voice was so husky it didn’t sound like me at all.

  He kissed me again, softly and leisurely, until he sensed I was ready to continue. I let my body do the talking because it was easier that way. I didn’t want to suddenly blurt out how much I’d missed him or how great he made me feel—how I wished we could rewind the past and do things differently. I just wanted to be as close to him as physically possible. I wanted to lose myself in his body, to feel the magnificence of sexual pleasure with him—only with him. I wanted to break free, to escape from everything that had been so tightly bound up inside me like a giant, prickly ball of bitterness.

  Alessandro moved down my body again, taking me on a sensual quest that unmoored me from my foundations. I could feel myself being shaken loose with each stroke and flutter of his tongue against my hungry, aching, greedy flesh. The tremors of feeling moved through me until I was rolling, crashing like a wave against a shore. I was washed over with the sensations. Flooded with them. Drowned in delight. And then floating like a bit of flotsam in that blessed afterglow of release.

  But I didn’t want to be the only one to experience such amazing sensations. I wanted to give pleasure to him. It was my gift—the only thing I had to give him. I could no longer—would no longer—give him my heart, but my body was his for the asking.

  I moved my hand down his shaft, rediscovering the shape and heft of him. Delighting in the way he sucked in a sharp-sounding breath, as if my touch ignited him like no other. His skin was silky and smooth, and yet the weight and thickness of him was as strong as steel. My body quivered with the memory of how it had felt to have him thrust inside me, losing himself in me.

  He was fighting to control himself. I could feel the tension building in him. I could hear the hectic pace of his breathing as his need for release increased.

  ‘Wait.’

  He suddenly pulled back and reached over the side of the bed for his discarded trousers. I was glad one of us was being responsible about safe sex, because I can tell you right then it was the furthest thing from my mind. But I appreciated his concern—particularly as I wasn’t currently taking the pill. I hadn’t seen the need to pump myself full of hormones when I was basically celibate.

  Alessandro came back safely sheathed and poised himself at my entrance. But still he didn’t rush for completion. He caressed my breasts, using his hands, his lips and his tongue. He moved down my body, leaving a trail of blistering heat in his wake. I felt the pressure building inside me again as he came to my pubic bone. My nerve-endings began to twitch as his mouth came inexorably closer. I felt the warm gust of his breath against my labia, then the gentle glide of one of his fingers as he tested my moisture to see if I was ready for him.

  I guided him with my hand, lifting my pelvis, making a pleading noise that was unintelligible but crossed all language barriers. He knew what I wanted and he gave it.

  I gasped as he took that first slow but sure thrust. He could have gone much deeper and much harder, but he didn’t. The measured pace was just right for me to find my own rhythm before I tried to keep up with his.

  And then it all fell magically into place.

  Somehow it was like beautiful choreography—a ballet of limbs and lips and lust and longing that built to a stunning, heart-stopping climax.

  I closed my eyes to give myself up fully to the storm of passion that ricocheted through me. Tiny bright lights like a fistful of carelessly flung diamonds sparkled behind my eyelids. My flesh tingled from head to foot and my heart raced in time with Alessandro’s. I could feel it pumping against my crushed breasts, where his body was pressed as the final waves of release washed over him.

  I could have used one or two of Bertie’s ‘wows’ just then, but I decided to stay silent. Talking would break the spell that had fallen around and over us like a velvet blanket.

  My fingers started moving up and down the length of his strong spine like a lapsed pianist working on her scales.

  ‘“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”?’ Alessandro said after a moment, his voice a deep rumble against my neck, where his face was pressed.

  I couldn’t stop a laugh escaping. ‘Good guess. How about this one?’ I tapped out the rhythm to ‘Three Blind Mice’.

  I felt his lips move against my neck as he spoke. ‘Play
it again.’

  I played it again, slower this time. ‘Come on,’ I said, laughing again. ‘It’s an easy one.’

  His lips started to nibble on my earlobe. ‘Give me a clue.’

  I shivered all over as his tongue traced the cartilage of ear. My fingers stopped playing their tune and started weaving their way through the thickness of his hair. ‘I’m tired of that game,’ I said in a breathy whisper. ‘Let’s play something else.’

  He propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes glinting at me smoulderingly. ‘Any suggestions?’

  I circled his mouth with one of my fingertips, the sound of his skin rasping against mine making something topple inside my belly. ‘Three Questions?’

  He lifted one dark eyebrow. ‘I haven’t heard of that game. How does it go?’

  I traced the right angle of his jaw with my finger. ‘I get to ask you three questions. Anything I want. And you have to answer.’

  A flicker of tension passed across his cheek before he got it under control. ‘And do I get to ask you three questions of my choice too?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Now, you might ask why I was playing such a potentially dangerous game, but I had already told him my worst secret. What did I have to lose? Besides, I had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling me about his sister Bianca. Don’t ask me how I knew. I’m not psychic…or at least I hope not.

  ‘O-kay,’ he said, but his tone was unmistakably cautious.

  ‘What’s the most difficult operation you’ve ever done?’ No point in starting with the big one, I thought. I’d work up to it.

  He didn’t hesitate in answering. ‘It was a heart transplant on a seventeen-year-old when I was a registrar. Things didn’t go according to plan. To be fair, it was a risky case. But the consultant was one of those instrument-throwing ones. He was out of his depth but refused to admit it. He sent me out to tell the relatives their son hadn’t made it. I’ll never forget their faces. They leapt to their feet, eager for good news, and I had to tell them the opposite.’