It was a week since they’d shared dinner at the waterfront cave and she’d truly thought that night was the last word in sublime perfection. That was before they’d gone back to her place on his motorbike, before they’d made love all night only this time, he’d still been there in the morning so they’d shared a long, slow breakfast and revelled in one another’s bodies until the early evening when he’d left, explaining that he had to go to Rome for a few days and would be back soon.
She didn’t want to admit how tempting it had been to think of him while he was gone – nor how often her mind did actually stray to him. She hadn’t come to Ondechiara to lose her head to some other guy, no matter how gorgeous and great in bed he happened to be. Nico was good fun, but that was all.
She propped her elbows on the railing of the boat, looking back to the Italian coastline. “It really is so beautiful.”
“Yes,” but she felt his eyes on her and her skin flushed warm. “I look forward to coming here.”
“Do you ever think of moving?”
“To live permanently in Ondechiara?”
She nodded.
“Sometimes,” he lifted his shoulders and his whole body rippled. “It’s not particularly practical. My business is in Rome, my family too.”
“Do you see much of them?”
He nodded. “We generally dine together once a week, at Villa Fortune – the home we grew up in.” He pronounced it in the Italian fashion, ‘fortun-eh’. “Yaya expects it of us and –,” a frown marred his handsome face.
She pressed a hand to his forearm. “And?”
“You know.” He cleared his throat. “She’s getting older,” his lips were grim. “I think it is likely she won’t be with us much longer.”
“I’m sorry.”
He dipped his head in silent acknowledgement of her sympathy. “I went to school in England.” The words came out of nowhere but they brought her back to reality with an almighty bang.
“Did you?” It was strangled, because Maddie wasn’t naturally given to deception and concealing the fact she knew exactly where he went to school went against her every instinct.
“Mmm. Dugard, and then Gramercy,” he named the prestigious school Michael had won a scholarship to attend and despite the warmth of the day she felt ice trickle down her spine.
“I liked it. I loved it, in fact. But always I had a yearning in here,” he tapped his chest, “to come back to Italy.” His smile showed he had no concept of the bead of anxiety that was trembling through her central nervous system.
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.
“I suppose you feel the same about your home given that you are a self-professed home-body?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I miss it, but…”
Her words trailed off into nothing. She felt the heat of his scrutiny on her profile, but continued looking out at the view.
“But?”
“I just needed a break.”
“From anything in particular?”
Her eyes jerked to his. It was as though he had some kind of hotline into her thoughts. She opened her mouth to say something but he spoke first.
“Let me guess? The bad break up?”
She bit down on her lower lip. She didn’t need to talk about Michael to be honest with Nico. She could keep things vague. But her heart began to hammer because keeping things secret had been her modus operandi for such a long time, it was a hard habit to break.
She nodded slowly.
“That bad, huh?”
She nodded again.
“Want to talk about it?” She angled her face to his to find him watching her and her heart turned over in her chest. She shook her head.
“You sure?”
She swallowed to bring moisture back to her mouth. “It’s hard.”
“Relationship crap often is.”
That was interesting – interesting enough to distract her. “Speaking from experience?”
His smile was tight. “Naturally. You don’t get to be my age without having some experience of heartbreak and dashed expectations.” He wiggled his thick, dark brows. “Which is why I’m volunteering myself as a willing shoulder to cry on.”
“Well, they are very nice shoulders,” she quipped, deliberately lightening the tone of their conversation.
He let the subject go, coming to stand behind her, wrapping one arm around her torso and using the other to gesture to the coastline. “Can you see the caves?”
She followed the direction of his hand, nodding, and he dropped his lips, buzzing them over her shoulder so her knees began to pulse. “They look so small from here.”
“Hard to believe they’re the entrance to such an elaborate network.”
“Yeah.”
His fingertips traced her shoulder and the buzzing in her knees spread through her whole body.
“How’s your book going?”
The question surprised her. Michael never asked about her work. Then again, she had to stop comparing the two. They were apples and oranges, despite the fact they had been close at school.
“Slowly.” She spun in the circle of his arms, bringing them toe-to-toe. Desire flashed through her central nervous system. “Apparently, I’m a bit distracted.”
He laughed. “Now, that’s not fair. I haven’t seen you for days.” He pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose.
“Maybe your absence was more distracting than your presence would have been?”
He laughed, a husky sound that curled around her. “Forse.” His eyes held hers as his fingers moved to the straps of her dress, pushing them down a little. Her skin lifted with goose bumps, despite the warmth of the day.
“How would you feel about a swim?”
She looked over her shoulder. The water was so clear she could see fish swimming beneath them. “I didn’t bring any bathers.”
“I did.”
“Did you now?”
“Preparation is my middle name.” He let one of the straps of her dress drop completely so the fabric slipped down on her breast. His voice was gravelled. “I enjoyed choosing something out for you.”
“Wear the orange one. The black makes you look like you have the arse of an eighty four year old.” She shuddered, pushing the memories of Michael firmly aside, smiling brightly.
This was a thoughtful gesture. Nico had foreseen an opportunity for them to swim and he’d catered to her needs when she’d been too pent up about seeing him to think clearly.
“Where are they? I’ll go get changed.”
He shook his head slowly. “Not without me, you won’t.” And then he swooped down and lifted her up, cradling her against his chest so she laughed at the unexpectedness of it all, and Michael was just a balloon, far, far away, high in the sky, floating further and further away with every warm moment she shared with Nico.
The yacht was, naturally, the next word in luxury. Enormous but somehow sleek at the same time. With crisp white detailing, she’d gleaned that it boasted seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a kitchen a gourmet chef would admire and several lounge and entertaining spaces. He shouldered the door of one bedroom open. A king size bed was at the centre. He eased her to her feet, and when his eyes met hers, it was like being sparked with a thousand volts of electricity.
“First, we need to get you undressed,” he said, mock-seriously.
“Absolutely.”
His hands moved to the bottom of her dress now, his eyes on hers as he lifted it up her body, his fingertips grazing her soft flesh as he went. She lifted her arms overhead and as he passed the dress above her hair he kissed her, as though he couldn’t help it, as though his mouth was somehow magnetically drawn to hers.
She hadn’t worn a bra and he made short work of her underpants, sliding them down her legs without breaking their kiss; she stepped out of them to complete the removal. His tongue plundered her mouth and his hands moved between her legs, spreading them wider so he could brush his fingertip over her sex, teasing her with the pro
mise of what was to come.
Her pulse was bursting through her body way too fast, so fast surely her veins would collapse under the tsunami of blood. But she tilted her head back and begged him not to stop because she couldn’t bear it if he did. He moved his finger over her most sensitive cluster of nerves until she was flying high in the skies and then he dropped to his knees, pulling his hand away only so his mouth could take its place, his tongue worshipping her most private flesh, his mouth heaven-sent.
She ran her fingers through his hair and stood in the middle of the bedroom, trying not to faint from pleasure, trying not to cry because it was so exactly what she needed to feel that there was something wrenching about it, too.
“You’re so good at this,” the words were strangled from her.
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was driving her over the edge and she tilted there willingly, crying his name into the room with shattering urgency as her body seemed to break apart at the seams until there was nothing left.
She kept her fingers in his hair, almost essential for balance, as her breathing slowed and then she released her grip so he looked up at her, his smile showing that he knew exactly what he could do to her and loving it.
But she didn’t care. This wasn’t a competition of egos. His ability to pleasure her – no, his desire to pleasure her – was a gift, and she wasn’t going to miss a single opportunity to feel like this during the time they had together. She knew it wasn’t ‘real life’. That was waiting for her back in England, one day. This was a slice out of time, a little bubble of unreality, and she was going to enjoy it.
He stood, the proof of his own arousal evident through the cotton fabric of his board shorts, so she reached for him, drawing his body close to hers, pressing his cock to her stomach and shifting her hips in a silent invitation.
“Where did you come from?” He murmured, lifting his hands and cupping her face, his eyes boring down into hers.
“Putney.”
He laughed, the quip dipping into the sensual spell that had wound around them. “Of course. A south Londoner.”
“Through and through,” she grinned, sliding her hands into the elastic of his shorts, cupping his rear, so she saw his expression shift, a sharp burst of need filling his face.
“I have a friend who lives in Putney. Maybe I should look you up next time I’m there.”
Both froze. The words were completely unexpected. It wasn’t what they’d agreed to, but more than that, he was referring to Michael. Of course he was – who else? Perhaps he knew someone else who lived in the small borough of London, but wasn’t that against the odds? Her stomach looped, and she pulled away from him jerkily, moving towards the bed and bracing her hand on the edge of it.
“I was joking.” His voice was cool, his tone impossible to comprehend. “That’s not what either of us wants.”
She understood. He was worried because it sounded as though he was offering more than a brief summer fling and he’d made it clear that wasn’t on the cards. But she couldn’t feel anything except panic. It flooded her from top to toe. He was still in contact with Michael? ‘Maybe I should look you up next time I’m there’ didn’t sound as though they rarely saw one another. She expelled a shaky breath, but it didn’t help. Guilt was perforating her soul.
Sleeping with Nico when she believed him to be someone Michael had once known was one thing. But if they were still in contact? Friends? The whole time she’d been with Michael, he’d only mentioned Nico that one time. They’d certainly never seen each other – not that she’d known of, anyway.
But it was a stark reminder that she was playing with fire, only it wasn’t just her who stood to get burned. She hated Michael – amazing that what had started with the possibility of love had morphed into deep, wretched hatred – but she liked Nico, and for his sake, she didn’t particularly want to become a wedge in their friendship. Not when she and Nico had both agreed this meant nothing.
Michael was vindictive and angry, jealous and possessive. If he found out about this…a frisson of fear ran down her spine. If he found out about this, he’d be enraged. With her, and Nico.
She lifted a hand to her head, pressing her fingertips to her temples, danger everywhere. She was back in that apartment near the hook of the Thames, Michael’s hands at her throat, fear so pervasive, so real, she felt nausea rise inside her.
“Maddie?” Nico crossed the room to her, putting his hands on her arms, holding her steady. “Relax. You look like you’re on the brink of a full-blown panic attack. I’m not asking you for more than this summer. It was a stupid joke. And not even a funny one.”
“I know,” she forced a smile to her lips. “Sorry. It’s just…”
“I know.” He moved one hand to her chin, lifting her face towards his. “The breakup.”
“Right.” She bit down on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that. It’s just…”
“We can’t help our reactions,” his smile held a question.
“I’m fine,” she promised. “Let’s go swimming.”
She moved like a mermaid. Or a dolphin. Or a water-bound ballerina. Her grace was effortless. He could watch her all day, but watching was a trade off with touching, because from the proper distance to observe her every move he couldn’t reach out and feel her smooth, soft flesh beneath his palm. And he liked feeling her. He loved the way she responded to him, too. Nico had been with enough women to know when chemistry was unique and theirs was. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, if he was honest.
Was that why he’d made the damned Putney comment?
It had been such a stupid thing to say but yes, looking back, he’d probably been sounding her out about the possibility of something in the future. Not a relationship. Just a bit more of this, from time to time. He was friends with many of his ex lovers – there was nothing unusual in seeing if he could become friends with Maddie in a way that transcended this summer.
But her reaction had been emphatic. She’d been terrified.
The comment had been absurd, anyway. He hadn’t seen Michael Walsh in a couple of years and that experience had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Despite their years of friendship, something about the way Michael had spoken had left Nico with a sense of concern. It wasn’t just the fact Michael had been asking to borrow a considerable sum of money, it was that he seemed desperate to have it, as though his life depended on it. Nico had helped, because their friendship went back a long way, but caution now bounded that relationship. So it wasn’t like he was just going to skip into Putney for a weekend to hang out with the man. Although, if he thought seeing Maddie was in the offing…
But it wasn’t.
She was making that abundantly clear. He needed to respect that. Everyone had boundaries and she’d drawn hers from the first day they’d met, as had he. Who was he to think he could change them? And why the hell did he even want to?
“With seven bedrooms, this is still my favourite spot,” she murmured, staring up at the starlit sky.
Beside her, Nico propped up onto his elbow, regarding her with an intensity that made her heart race. He’d laid blankets onto the top of the deck and scattered pillows, lit a few candles and they’d laid in that perfect spot as the sun dipped down into the ocean for the night, the sky transforming into shades of purple and orange, the stars coming out one by one at first, shyly, slowly, and then in a rush, each one twinkling and winking from the inky black heavens.
“Mine too.”
She lifted up onto her elbow, matching his pose. “Do you do this often?”
“Sleep on the deck?”
“With women.”
“Women?” He looked over his shoulder. “I only see one woman.”
Her lips lifted in a small smile. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” He lifted his shoulders. “The truth is, no, mainly because I consider Ondechiara off limits to my normal life. I bring very few people here. It’s private and I don’t li
ke to share my private life.”
Yet he’d brought Michael. The thought dropped through her like a rock. “Has that always been the case?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re so perceptive, aren’t you?”
Her brows lifted. “Am I?”
“I suppose I used to feel differently. But a few years ago I decided I wanted a bolthole, a place I could come to away from all the crap that comes with being a Montebello.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Why do you think something happened?”
“It just feels like you’re not telling me something.”
“Are you hungry?”
She lifted a hand and batted his shoulder playfully. “You’re avoiding my question.”
“By trying to cater to your appetite?”
“You’ve already done that. All of my appetites,” she said with a gentle shake of her head.
“I hope not.” He ran his hand over the curve of her hip and she swept her eyes shut as pleasure surged inside her.
“So you just woke up one day and decided to shut up shop?”
“Shop?”
“It’s a colloquialism,” she clarified.
“It was a difficult time in my life,” he said quietly. “It felt right.”
“Why?” She moved a little closer, her body seeking his on autopilot. But she didn’t want to feel desire more than she wanted answers, so she was careful not to kiss him because she knew one kiss could incinerate them both.
“Non lo so. It just did.”
“What had happened? Why was it difficult?”
“Has anyone ever told you you can be very stubborn?”
“You’re being a stupid, stubborn little bitch. For Christ’s sake, Maddie, just make the damned lasagne.”
“I’m kidding,” he was frowning, his eyes roaming her face with instant concern.
And he thought she was perceptive? “My grandfather had died a year or so earlier. It was hard on all of us. Yaya was devastated – we adored him. And his death, while reasonably swift, came at the end of a pretty harrowing cancer. Seeing him so weak and altered was…you know. It was hard.” When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed in his hair-roughened throat.
Just This One Summer: A billionaire forbidden love romance... (The Montebellos Book 2) Page 8