Bound to the Sicilian's Bed

by Sharon Kendrick

  She dried her skin and raked a wide-toothed comb through her curls but she was feeling much too edgy to think about sleeping. The moon was so bright that it was flooding the room with silver light and, pulling on a baggy T-shirt and slipping on a clean pair of panties, she walked across the room towards the terrace and stepped outside, the tiles cool beneath her bare feet. Above her the dark sky was punctured by the bright glitter of stars and the moon was huge as she leaned her elbows against the wrought-iron railings and stared out at the inky gleam of the sea.

  Had she been crazy to come here?

  Probably.

  She realised it was going to be hard to forget Rocco after this and it had nothing to do with the fancy house, or cars, or the yacht he’d casually mentioned was moored in the harbour. It was being in his company again. She’d forgotten how charismatic he was and what a powerful magnetism he exerted over everyone, but especially over her. She’d forgotten because it had been in her best interests to forget and she had been trying to move on. But now she was confused and aching. He hadn’t kissed her tonight—he hadn’t even touched her—and yet it was as if he’d started a slow blaze inside her. A drift of wind lifted the curls from the back of her neck and she sighed, realising that sleep wasn’t going to come easily. Still, nobody ever died from a lack of sleep, did they? She would just stand there and watch the moonlight glinting on the water and wait until her eyelids started growing heavy.

  She heard the click of the bedroom door as it opened but she didn’t turn round. She didn’t need to. Nobody else would walk into her bedroom uninvited. Nobody else would dare. But even if a hundred people had pushed open that door, she would have known it was Rocco from a hundred paces. Was she so sensitive to his presence that she could detect him—like some animal who had sniffed out her natural mate in the wild? Was that why her nipples had started puckering so that she wanted to open her mouth to cry out that they were craving his touch?

  He was moving across the room and the only other sound she could hear was the amplified pounding of her heart above his approaching footsteps.

  Tell him to go, she thought.

  Beg him to stay.

  ‘Nicole?’

  Like rich velvet, his voice filtered through the warm air and Nicole shivered as he stepped out onto the terrace behind her. Had she thought the spoken word would shatter the spell he’d managed to weave without even being in her eyeline? Because if so, she had completely misread the situation.

  ‘What?’ she said, in what was surely the most pointless question of all time.

  ‘Turn around,’ he said.

  She told herself she was going to resist—but how could she? She felt herself turning in response to his sultry command and suddenly realised it wasn’t resentment she felt, but relief. Yes, relief. Because wasn’t this shimmering feeling of excitement better than the half-dead way she’d felt at the end of their marriage? Wasn’t it good to feel properly alive again in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time? ‘What do you want, Rocco?’

  ‘You know damned well what I want.’ His lips twisted into a predatory smile. ‘I want you.’

  And, oh, the feeling was mutual. She wanted him to take away this terrible aching and the deep well of loneliness inside her but it was a risk—and a big one. What if having sex only increased her desire for him instead of killing it? Restlessly she shifted beneath his shadowed gaze, knowing it was a risk she was prepared to take because the thought of sending him away was intolerable. One more night, that was all. One night to finally rid herself of these lingering demons. All she needed to remember was to be on her guard against unwanted emotion because it had no place in what was about to happen. Rocco was programmed to want sex and she was programmed to want something deeper—because that was what women did. And love was something she would never get from Rocco Barberi.

  So she stood beneath the silver spotlight of the moon and wondered if her expression gave away the hunger which was snaring her with its silken tendrils. He was wearing nothing but jeans—the top button undone so that dark hair arrowed down towards the ridge-like bulge pushing against his crotch. His chest was glowing and an arrogant smile was curving his lips as if he was already anticipating her surrender. And Nicole knew then that if she did this, it was going to have to be on her own terms.

  She needed to remember they were equals. He wasn’t her boss and soon he wouldn’t even be her husband. This was physical, that was all. It was what grown-ups did. They had carefully considered sex which they could walk away from with nothing but a glow of satisfaction. She tried to iron out the emotion from her voice but she could hear an underlying tremble as she answered him. ‘So what are we going to do about it?’

  ‘I think you know the answer to that.’ In the moonlight his eyes glittered. ‘Get undressed,’ he said softly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE CONTROL IN Rocco’s voice threatened to destroy the sensual mood which had ensnared her and Nicole stared at him resentfully. Did he think she was the same grateful virgin he’d first seduced, who would do whatever it was he demanded?

  She held his gaze, her chin tilting as he studied her with cool calculation. ‘What did you say?’

  He gave a soft laugh. ‘You heard.’

  ‘I want you to repeat it, Rocco.’

  There was a pause. ‘I told you to get undressed.’

  ‘To perform a striptease for you, you mean?’

  He shrugged. ‘If you like.’

  ‘Well, I don’t like,’ she said. ‘Not any more. I’ve changed, Rocco—haven’t you?’

  His eyes gleamed but he didn’t answer her question directly. ‘So why don’t you tell me what you do like?’

  And despite everything she knew and everything she had learnt, Nicole found herself wishing for the impossible. Wanting him to say something romantic. To tell her he’d missed her and his life hadn’t been the same since she’d gone. Wouldn’t a few tender words enhance what was about to happen, even if he didn’t mean them? So that for a while she could pretend he cared, as she’d pretended so often in the past. But that would be a pointless thing to do because grown-ups didn’t demand hypocritical words. They accepted things exactly the way they were. And this was sex—farewell sex or break-up sex, whatever you wanted to call it. One last taste of Rocco Barberi’s magnificent body—and hadn’t she better make the most of it?

  Raking her fingers back through her still-damp curls, she was aware that her hardened nipples were thrusting against her T-shirt and his eyes were following the movement, like a man hypnotised. Briefly she revelled in a feeling of power as she met the smoky hunger of his gaze. ‘I want you to take off my clothes for me,’ she said huskily. ‘And to do it as slowly as possible. I want you to test your own patience—so we’re both so turned on that we can’t bear it a second longer. That’s what I’d like, Rocco.’

  His eyes narrowed, suspicion shadowing them. ‘Since when did you start having fantasies like that?’ he demanded, in a low voice. ‘Has there been another man?’

  ‘You think I don’t have any kind of imagination? Or that I’m incapable of articulating my own desires unless a man shows me how? Oh, wow.’ She shook her head. ‘Thanks for reminding me how unspeakably arrogant you can be, Rocco—and for making me realise that this would be a very bad idea.’

  She went to walk past him, her hair swaying in the breeze from the terrace, but he caught hold of her and pulled her up hard against him. She could feel her breasts flattening against his bare chest through her T-shirt and hear the wild patter of her heart.

  ‘I don’t think you want to go anywhere, do you, Nicole? Not really. You just want to play provocative and you want me to do the same.’ His finger traced down the side of her face, before coming to rest against the throbbing pulse at her neck. ‘Have I got that right?’

  She attempted a shrug which didn’t quite come off because showing bravado was one thing—but not quite so easy when his face was just inches away and all his hard, honed flesh was this close. ‘I�
�m not slipping into old patterns,’ she said huskily. ‘I’m not stripping for you just because you’ve snapped your fingers. I don’t want to play those games any more. If you want me naked, then you’ll have to undress me yourself.’

  A smile touched his lips. ‘Is that so?’

  She nodded, unable to speak because now his hand was drifting from her face down her body and she wished her T-shirt weren’t so baggy. What had possessed her to wear such an unflattering garment? As if he’d read her thoughts, he rucked up the material to slip his hand underneath so that his fingertips were on her bare skin and her nerve-endings were instantly fired as she felt that first light touch.

  ‘So how slow would you like me to go?’ he questioned almost conversationally as he cupped one of her breasts luxuriously in the palm of his hand and began to massage the underside of it with the edge of his thumb. ‘How long shall I take before I remove this delightful piece of clothing you’re wearing?’

  Nicole’s knees sagged. ‘Oh,’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘You’re not making yourself very clear, Nicole. Oh, what?’

  ‘I don’t...’ She closed her eyes. ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Sudden memory lapse, tesoro?’ he murmured, his Sicilian accent a velvety caress. ‘I wonder what might be causing it?’

  Nicole couldn’t answer because now his thumb was flicking across her thrusting nipple, sending little ripples of pleasure criss-crossing over her skin. He stroked tiny circles over the engorged flesh before turning his attention to the other breast and Nicole could feel her frustration begin to mount. Squirming beneath his touch, she wondered why on earth she’d told him she wanted this done slowly when already her desire was so intense that she could feel a honeyed heat between her thighs. She wanted—no, needed—to get horizontal but he showed no sign of moving and she realised that, in order to stop her knees from buckling, she was going to have to cling onto his shoulders to anchor herself. He gave a soft laugh as her fingers dug into his flesh and he buried his mouth in her neck, his lips becoming entangled with the wild spill of curls as he drifted the tip of his tongue over her skin.

  ‘R-Rocco,’ she whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Take...take off my T-shirt.’

  ‘I thought you told me to take my time. To stretch my own patience were the words I think you used. And believe me, tesoro—I haven’t even started yet. I’ll show you just how patient I can be.’

  It was both a promise and a threat—as well as a boastful demonstration of just how controlled he could be—and Nicole closed her eyes as he ran the flat of his hand over her belly, taking care to avoid the place where she most wanted to be touched. She bit her lip. Had she really been so sure of herself to think she could wait when she so desperately wanted to feel him inside her? She squirmed as deliberately he inched his way along the lacy edge of her panties, praying for him to slip his finger inside so that he could feel how much she wanted him, but he didn’t. She had wanted to control what was happening by setting the pace, but she had done the exact opposite and given him all the power. She wondered what the hell she’d been playing at.

  So what was she waiting for?

  She was his equal—remember?

  Reaching between them, she tugged down the zipper of his jeans, feeling his hard length spring against her palm as she freed him, and his words were a muffled moan as she began to stroke him.

  ‘I thought you said—’

  ‘I changed my mind,’ she whispered. ‘It’s a woman’s prerogative, Rocco—hadn’t you heard?’

  With her thumb and her forefinger she began to tease his taut erection but he halted her fingers with the firm clamp of his own and she heard him give an unsteady laugh.

  She stared at him indignantly. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You are. I had no idea you could be so...mercurial. I like it.’

  A prick of sadness threatened to puncture Nicole’s blissful state. Of course he hadn’t known what she was capable of and had never bothered finding out because he hadn’t really cared. To Rocco she would always be the office cleaner in the too small uniform with the mop and bucket in her hand—the last woman in the world he should have married.

  But she wasn’t going to think about that.

  Not now.

  She was going to think how good this felt and to enjoy every single second of it.

  And then she was going to kiss him goodbye.

  ‘I’m pleased you like it but you’d better not get used to it,’ she warned softly.

  ‘To what?’

  ‘The sex.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Since we both know this is only going to happen once.’

  ‘Is that so?’ He seemed to recover himself then and Nicole saw the light of challenge in his eyes as he peeled off her T-shirt with a fluid movement and carried her over to the bed. ‘In that case maybe we should stop wasting so much time talking and get down to business.’

  ‘You’re obsessed with business,’ she said faintly as he put her down on the bed, and he laughed. Nicole watched him fishing around in the pocket of his jeans before kicking them off and joining her. And suddenly he was towering over her, one knee pressed on either side of her hips as she lay there naked, except for her brief pair of lacy black panties.

  ‘So how do you want it?’ he murmured. ‘Fast? Slow? Lights on? Off?’

  She wanted to tell him not to be so flippant until she realised that too would be wasting time. He was right. What was the point of talking when she wanted him so badly that her heart was threatening to burst right out of her chest? Why bother trying to score points when none of this meant anything? She looked up into the unfathomable gleam of his eyes and spoke from the heart. ‘Make love to me,’ she said.

  She saw his features tense as he stroked her hair away from her face and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. But he didn’t. Instead, he began to explore her—his fingers drifting erotic pathways over her body as he reacquainted himself with skin which wouldn’t seem to stop shivering. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and she thought he might rip them off as he’d done so many times before but he didn’t—though she noticed his hand was unsteady as he slid them down over her knees. Greedily, her lips pressed against the silken flesh of his shoulder as she parted her thighs for him.

  ‘Mmm... So responsive,’ he breathed as she arched up towards him. ‘That much never changes, does it, Nicole?’

  But Nicole didn’t want comparisons. She didn’t want a then-and-now scenario, which might alert all those little indicators of pain which she’d blocked but which were just waiting to spring out if she wasn’t careful. And this was supposed to be about pleasure, not pain. So take what you want and give him something in return. Wipe the slate clean so you can walk away from each other and leave the past where it belongs.

  Exploring each of his nipples with a feather-light touch, she enjoyed the muffled groan he gave in response, watching his eyes flutter to a close as she drifted her fingertips down over the taut dip of his belly. She smoothed the symmetrical ridges of his ribs and thought, not for the first time, how magnificent his naked body was, the olive skin glowing invitingly against the whiteness of the sheet. This was a feast for all the senses, she thought. She could taste him and feel him and she could smell him, too—that beguiling scent of bergamot underpinned with a raw masculinity, which she breathed in with each unsteady intake of air.

  Did he hear how erratic her breathing had become? Was that what prompted him to push her back against the pillows so he could bend his head to her breasts, his tongue cleaving a moist path over each tender mound until they were so acutely aroused that she began to writhe impatiently? His teeth grazed over her hardened nipples as his hand moved between her thighs—and Nicole gave a yelp of pleasure as he moved his finger against her moist slickness. And, oh, she had missed this—she was only just realising how much. She could feel the inexorable build of heat and remembered the way
she’d almost come apart in his arms when they’d been outside on the terrace earlier that day and, dazedly, she opened her eyes. ‘No,’ she whispered.

  ‘No?’ he echoed incredulously, his accent growing deeper as it always did during moments of intense pleasure. ‘You choose this moment to change your mind?’

  ‘I meant not...not like that,’ she amended breathlessly.

  He understood immediately and in the moonlight she saw hunger darkening his rugged features as he reached for the condom he had taken from his jeans. She watched while he ripped the foil open and stroked the rubber over his aroused length and the intimacy of the simple action was almost her undoing. Because hadn’t he taught her how to do that and to turn it into a kind of erotic foreplay, a task she had happily undertaken? And hadn’t he turned on her that time and asked her if she’d punctured the condom with her fingernails—demanded to know if she’d deliberately tried to get herself pregnant? He’d retracted the accusation immediately but the memory had lingered for a long time afterwards.

  Yet all those dark thoughts vanished the moment he entered her and were replaced by a feeling of such completion that it took Nicole’s breath away. How easily pleasure could conquer pain, she thought. Could make you so helpless that you barely knew who you were any more. Suddenly you forgot you were a wife who was seeking a divorce and became that same blown-away creature who had given her innocence to him so willingly.

  ‘Rocco,’ she said, brokenly.

  He didn’t answer. He was too busy doing all the things he knew she loved best. Hooking her quivering thighs around his hips to angle himself just right. Cupping her buttocks and bringing them towards him—the slick action making his penetration all the deeper. And despite knowing that for him this was nothing more than physical, Nicole was lost. Lost in sensation as one thrust followed another and the sweet and familiar layers began to build. She wanted it to last all night but that was never going to happen—not when she was in such a heightened state of arousal. She’d almost dissolved from the moment he entered her and now she couldn’t hold it back any longer.