CHAPTER FIVE
DESPITEHERREPUTATION, Amelia was not prone to dramatic fits but as she said, ‘I can’t’ over and over again, she felt herself growing hysterical, frustrated, terrified of the prospect of being home and having to keep this enormous secret, terrified of what Daniel might do or ask if she returned, terrified that Anton’s wedding would be ruined because of her.
Amelia could hardly breathe.
Benedetto grabbed her other arm, shaking her a little, so she looked up at him, eyes huge.
‘Hey,’ he said firmly. ‘Stop. Stop.’
She was trembling, she realised, and weak. Without his touch, she wasn’t sure she could stay standing.
‘Tell me what’s going on. Is it just that you’re afraid of their reaction? Because I can tell you this: they love you.’ His voice was gravelled. ‘They want you back, more than anything.’
She shook her head, stomach in knots. ‘You don’t understand. I can’t. I can’t.’
And then, perhaps because he saw no other way to silence her, he claimed her mouth with his own, kissing her hard and fast and desperately, absorbing her panic, her anguish, placating her without words or promises to listen and be her champion, but somehow still reassuring her.
Everything inside Amelia shifted. Her hands lifted to his shirt, bunched into it as if holding on for dear life, as if she couldn’t possibly survive without him, as if this kiss and he were her lifelines.
It was all so confusing, so wrong, so right. She whimpered into his mouth, lifted one leg, wrapping her heel behind his knee, then higher, aching to be closer to him, so much closer than this. His kiss grew more urgent, more intense, harder, his tongue lashing hers, his mouth pressing her head back against the wall, until he lifted her, carrying Amelia with her legs wrapped around his waist the rest of the way down the stairs to the door that was locked.
He cursed into her mouth, reached over her shoulder and fumbled the buttons on a keypad; the door swung open. Amelia barely noticed. She was utterly captivated by this moment, by him, by what they were sharing, by how her body was reacting and, most importantly, by the way his kiss was wiping everything else from her mind, so she no longer felt as though she were losing to a rising tide of panic, but surfing along a current of desire that was engulfing her in the best possible way.
Through the door, he strode purposefully to a wide arch and stepped through it. She was conscious of only the surface-level details—a sofa, huge, wide, long, beige in colour, which he laid her down on, barely breaking their kiss for even a moment, his hands pushing at the summery dress she’d pulled on over her bathers while she ate lunch, revealing her near-naked body. She had no self-consciousness around nudity, but this was different. Benedetto stripping her bathers was a whole new level and in the back of her mind she knew she should stop this, slow things down, that they both had reasons for not acting on their attraction, but to hell with it. That kind of rational thought felt just outside Amelia’s grip.
She was terrified about going home but when Benedetto touched her, nothing else mattered. Didn’t she deserve this? Just a little?
‘This is crazy.’ He seemed to echo her thoughts.
‘I know.’
He pushed up onto his elbow, staring down at her, eyes conflicted, lips tense. ‘Amelia—’
‘Don’t stop,’ she pleaded, dropping her hands to his sides and pushing up his shirt, revealing his torso, which she lifted up a little to kiss. He groaned, and the power she had over him was a heady, glorious feeling.
‘This is complicated.’
‘No, it’s simple,’ she murmured, arching her back. ‘I still don’t like you, you know. This is just sex, desire, chemistry, whatever. It doesn’t mean anything. That’s what we both want, isn’t it?’
He looked at her as though she’d spoken in a foreign language. ‘Your brother—’
‘I’m pretty sure neither of us wants to think about Anton right now. But in case you’re worried I’m going to tell him about this, don’t be. It’s not my style to kiss and tell.’
‘Nor mine.’
‘Then?’ she asked, shifting her hips and, this time, removing his shirt fully, throwing it across the room without looking away from Benedetto.
‘We’ll both regret this.’
She lifted her shoulders. ‘Do you want to stop?’
‘What do you think?’
She smiled, her heart lifting. ‘I think this is out of our control and that’s okay.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s not generally my philosophy.’
And yet, despite that, they were kissing again, lips melded, hands running over each other, naked bodies writhing, moving so one moment she was on top of him and the next him on her until they rolled off the sofa and onto the floor, both laughing at the unexpectedness of that before they kissed once more, and the passion building between them made laughing or speaking entirely impossible.
Benedetto stepped out of his trousers swiftly, removing a slim leather wallet from his pocket and from that wallet a familiar foil square, which Amelia was delighted to see, as she’d been so swept up in the moment she’d almost forgotten contraception.
He stripped naked and sheathed himself and Amelia’s mouth grew dry at the sight of his enormous arousal, the size of him alone quite frightening as she imagined taking him inside her. But then he was back on the floor with her, his weight on top of her body, his mouth seeking hers before he moved to her breasts, kissing her as he had the day before, rolling her nipple in his mouth, tasting, tormenting, his hands at her hips shifting lower, between her legs, separating her there, teasing the entry to her sex, promising so much that she was moaning his name over and over, crying out with nonsensical sounds driven by white-hot need and passion. Finally his tip was there, and she was no longer afraid but euphoric and desperate, so she lifted her hips and pulled him in, crying out with relief as he breached her most intimate space and possessed her in a way she’d never known possible.
Hers was a guttural cry of relief, his of restraint, as he thrust as gently as he could deeper, deeper, until finally his entire length was buried in Amelia and she grew still, eyes wide, staring at him. He ran a hand over her face.
‘Okay?’
His concern touched something deep in her chest. She could only nod.
He kissed her then, his tongue moving in time with each shift of his hips, each powerful thrust, the hairs on his chest rough against her over-sensitised nipples, her whole body on fire, pleasure a violent storm now, rather than just a rising current. She felt as though she were being rocked in a thousand directions; as if her body were entirely unfamiliar to her. Every part of her, every nerve ending, every fibre, was exploding, jangling, radiating a whole new frequency. She scraped her nails down his back, crying out as her body began to quiver and tremble as if she were tipping over the edge of a chasm with no ground in sight, only stars and heaven and beautiful sky. She was flying through the stars, the heavens, all celestial, perfect radiant life encapsulated in her as she dug her heels into the base of his spine and held him deep, held him still, as her muscles tensed and spasmed, her body exploding in a powerful, all-consuming release that left Amelia utterly breathless.
She lay, eyes closed, the waves still rolling over her, the tide still lapping at her sides, and then he was moving again, gently at first, letting her get used to the feeling as her insides were still squeezing with release, and then he began to move faster, his mouth seeking first one breast, then the other, his hands roaming her body freely, moving between her legs, stroking her there as he thrust inside her so the pleasures were almost impossible to bear. And she felt the madness returning, threatening to devour her, she felt pleasure filling each pore of her body and threatening to explode it and then she was on the brink of losing herself once more just as he did, so their euphoria was mutual, shared, a total joining of passion and pleasure, of release and relief.
He weaved their fingers together, holding her hands above her as he stilled, and she felt his release, she felt her own body spasm and cried out because it was all so perfect, so desperately, hauntingly right.
‘I—don’t know what to say,’ she murmured after a long time, when their breathing had returned to normal but neither had moved.
‘Do we need to say anything?’ he asked, and then he did shift, pulling away from her, rolling to his side, propping up on one elbow to study her.
‘I guess not,’ she agreed, brows knitted together. Her mind though was swirling with thoughts, awakenings, needs, reassurances. Namely, she wanted to know that this wasn’t going to be the only time they experienced that. ‘I like you more when you make me feel like that,’ she said softly, and he laughed, a sound that filled her body with another kind of pleasure.
She smiled, closed her eyes, turned her head and then blinked languidly, scanning the room for the first time. And gasping. She’d been vaguely aware of an enormous piece of wall-size art when they’d entered but had been too caught up in Benedetto to give it another moment’s thought. But now she realised it wasn’t artwork so much as windows beneath the water giving the most stunning view of the ocean, which was teeming with brightly coloured fish. She scrambled to sit despite the cataclysmic shift that had just taken place inside herself, and saw that the floor also had a large strip of glass, revealing yet another vista. She reached for his arm and gripped it, simply because she almost couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.
‘It’s so beautiful, Benedetto. It’s just incredible.’
He was quiet. She spun to face him, smiling, lost in her appreciation for this room, so didn’t see the way he was watching her.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘It’s a nice feature,’ he agreed belatedly.
‘The stone benchtops in the bathrooms are a nice feature,’ she contradicted. ‘This is mesmerising.’
She pulled her knees to her chest, rested her chin on them. ‘I could stay in here for hours, watching the fish swim by. Or us swim by them, whichever it is.’
‘Both.’
‘Right.’ She smiled again, her eyes trained on the water.
‘When we stop, it’s better. They become curious and swim right up to the boat.’
‘Oh, I’d like to see that.’
‘I’ll arrange it.’
She resisted the urge to ask him to stop them for ever.
For ever wasn’t right anyway, but there would be worse places—and worse people—to hide out with for the rest of her days.
‘Do you feel better?’
She blinked, something fraying on the edges of her mind before jolting into her fully, reminding her of their conversation Before.
She turned to face him as he reached for a blanket off the edge of the sofa and passed it to her. She took it gratefully, wrapping it around her shoulders, but it wasn’t her body that felt exposed so much as her innermost thoughts and worries.
‘I feel pleasantly distracted,’ she said honestly. ‘Can we just keep doing that? Then I won’t have time to worry about home.’
‘Why are you worried?’ He asked the question gently, perhaps concerned that she might devolve into yet another panic attack. Amelia was surprised by how tempted she was to be honest with him. But she’d confided in Daniel, and he’d taken that information and threatened to use it against her. Amelia had learned she had to keep her secrets close to her chest.
‘I’ve been away a long time,’ she said eventually, haltingly. ‘But nothing’s changed. This is going to be a disaster.’
Silence fell between them, heavy and thoughtful. ‘You know, I never had a family like yours,’ he said, so slowly she felt as though the words were being dragged from him against his will. ‘My dad was a mean drunk who seemed to hate me and my mother. He had a raging temper and would lose it often. She was browbeaten by him, and never argued back. After a while, I didn’t either.’
‘Were you afraid of him?’ she asked, leaning back a little, against Benedetto’s chest, craving that closeness, but also wanting to comfort him by being near.
‘He was not violent,’ Benedetto said. ‘At least, not physically, but his outbursts certainly had those characteristics. They seemed to erupt from him totally without his control, a temper that was fierce, unjust, unpredictable, and inconsistent. I felt at times that I was living on eggshells, not afraid for myself so much as my mother, who would wither a little whenever he shouted, belittling her with his cruel, awful insults. He would call her dumb, lazy, ugly, a waste of skin. His names for me were worse. Often he told me he wished I’d never been born, that I ruined his life just by existing.’
Amelia sucked in an outraged breath. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did your mother leave him?’
‘No. She would still be with him today, I’m sure, if he hadn’t done us all a favour and died.’
She flinched a little at his words, but she understood them.
‘I was so glad, cara. I hated the man. He made our lives a misery and yet we were stuck with him. Many times, I contemplated running away, but I was worried for my mother. In the back of my mind there was always a risk he might become physically violent towards her, and at least by being there, I could protect her.’
‘Of course you felt that way. What an unfair burden for a young man to carry.’
‘When he died, there were mountains of debts in his name. The estate was a mess. I have never known anything quite like the pain of that poverty, and the joy of our freedom. It didn’t matter that we often didn’t have enough to eat, or spent weeks at a time sleeping in cars. We were free of him.’
‘Are you really, though?’ Amelia asked, genuinely curious, pressing a hand to his chest. ‘I’ve often wondered about the wounds left by a childhood like that. The insults spoken by someone who’s supposed to love you and instead treats you as though you’re worthless. Is there a part of you that still carries those wounds, Benedetto?’
‘I’m not stupid enough to deny that,’ he said with a lift of his shoulders. ‘We are all shaped by experiences, and for the first fourteen years of my life, I lived with a man who told me every day that I was worthless. But if he shaped me,’ Benedetto added, fixing her with a steady, cold gaze, ‘it was probably for the better. Every day I knew that I would never become like him. I would never allow my temper to get the better of me. I would control my emotions, not the other way around. I would be better than alcohol, gambling, addiction, cruelty. I would prove him wrong. And I did.’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘When I first met your family, I could not believe how loving everyone was. Your parents seem to enjoy each other’s company. They listen to one another’s opinions. They are the definition of a team. Your brothers are friends. It’s all so amiable and...nice. So warm. I cannot imagine what it must have been like, growing up in that environment.’
She stiffened, the mention of her family something she didn’t welcome, bringing their conversation to a place she refused to go.
‘To you, from the outside, I’m sure it did seem like that.’
‘Does that mean I’ve missed something? Is it your family you are afraid of?’
‘I can’t talk about it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I can’t.’ She pulled up to standing, frustrated, aware of him watching her as she paced to the window. ‘My family are fine. Loving, as you say. Almost to a fault. Whatever issues I have with them, and, like anyone, things they do annoy me sometimes and I’m sure that’s mutual, I still love them. I don’t want to hurt them. But I can’t...’ Her voice faded off into nothing as she ground her teeth. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She turned to face him. ‘Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?’
He looked at her long and hard, spectacularly naked, strong, handsome, desirable, so close to being perfect that she realised, belatedly, that was exactly the case: Benedetto was a mirage. Stranded with him, she saw only what she wanted to see, but, ultimately, he was going to hurt her, just as Daniel had. She had to accept that.
‘I’m sorry. I gave Anton my word.’ He rose then, coming to stand in front of her, pressing a finger beneath her chin and lifting it. ‘But I also think it is the right thing for you.’
Her smile was laced with sorrow. ‘That’s just something you’re telling yourself to assuage your guilt.’
‘They love you. Whatever you’re running from, they want to help you. Let them.’
She closed her eyes, the first step in blanking him from her mind, body, and heart. When they’d made love, she’d had some kind of hope that she could get through to him, that maybe he’d come to see things from her perspective, but now she realised: he never would. Sleeping with him was the best she’d ever felt but it was also a mistake, one she couldn’t repeat no matter how much she wanted to.
‘I’m not an idiot, Benedetto. When I ran away from home, I did so knowing how it would hurt them, knowing what it would mean for all of us. I did it anyway. I weighed up all my options and chose the one that was right—not just for me, but for them too. In fact, it was agony for me, but it had to be done. I did them the courtesy of keeping my reasoning to myself, but that doesn’t invalidate it. You’re infantilising me and treating me with a complete lack of respect by making me go home.’ She pressed a hand to his chest, pushed it lightly, then stepped backwards. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t say anything to ease your conscience. You’re doing the wrong thing, and you should feel bad about it.’
She was beautiful and softly spoken, the total opposite to how his father had been, and yet her words, so gently delivered, cut him to the quick more than almost anything had in his life. She’d called him out on what he was doing, echoing his own deepest-held misgivings, which he’d pushed aside purely out of loyalty to his friend, but hearing her charges, after what had just happened, put him in a position he couldn’t defend.
‘I do.’
Her eyes widened, her lips parted. ‘But it’s not too late. We’re only a couple of days out of Valencia. Surely you could fly me back? Take me anywhere,’ she pleaded. ‘Just not there.’
‘I’ve already told Anton you’re on the way.’
She recoiled as though he’d slapped her. ‘What?’
‘It’s done.’
‘It’s not done,’ she whispered, but tears filled her eyes and his gut rolled. He hated himself then, and the promise he’d made Anton.
‘But I believe that facing your family and at least explaining to them—’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She wrapped her arms around her torso, shivering, her beautiful face radiating tension now. ‘Imagine if your father was still alive and someone was taking you to him, telling you that it’s always better to face your demons, to forgive and forget, would you?’
Despite the fact it was a hypothetical and he’d said he didn’t deal in them, he blanched at the very idea.
‘See?’ she asked with a hollow laugh. ‘Isn’t that just the slightest bit hypocritical?’
‘My father was a monster. Your family is not.’
‘No, they’re not monsters. They’re wonderful, beautiful, loving, selfless people.’ She stared at him for several long seconds so he thought she might be about to reveal something to explain why the hell she’d run away, what had motivated all of this. But instead, she shook her head slowly, looked at him as if he’d just slaughtered a cat in front of her, and left without another word.