CHAPTER FIVE #2
Their eyes were locked in a silent battle of the wills. “Fine. We’ll stay here,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, tossing her clothes carelessly onto the bed.
“Um, there’s nowhere for you to sleep.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive,” he rejoined sardonically.
“But I won’t.” She swallowed. “I need you to go. There are more dangers to me than windows which don’t lock.” She put a hand on his chest and felt the now-familiar spark of adrenalin course through her veins.
“Such as?”
“You.” Her smile was weak. She didn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t be with you anymore.” She fidgeted her fingers in front of her, not even bothering to try to curb the habit.
He sighed. “Kate …”
“No.” She lifted her face defiantly to his. “You can’t jerk me around like this. I really … liked being with you,” she winced at the insipid turn of phrase. “I like you. I don’t see why this has to be some stupid two-day thing. I mean, we’re both in Rome. We could …”
He shook his head. “It’s more complex than that.”
“Why?” She demanded huskily. “You either want more of this or you don’t. But if you don’t, and going from your behavior today you don’t, then just go. Just leave me alone. Please.”
He jammed his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. “What do you want from me, Kate? How do you see this working?”
Hope flared inside of her. It was a chance. It was something; an opening, an opportunity. “Why can’t we just … date?”
“Date?” He stared at her with undisguised amusement. “I don’t … I’ve never dated.”
“You’ve never dated?” She repeated with obvious disbelief. “I thought you were super experienced …”
“Si. With sex, cara. That is not the same thing. Dating is not in my make-up. I’m not interested in romance. So instead, we can keep sleeping together. You come to my home, where you are safe, and we sleep together as we have been. Is this what you want?”
She bit down on her lip. “And you don’t think it’s more than that with us?”
He padded his thumb across her cheek. “I have never offered you more than this. I do not believe I’ve done anything that should have led you to believe I want a relationship with you.
” He’d been careful, hadn’t he? Despite the beauty of his villa, and the romance inherent to its tumble-down state, he had not offered more than he wanted to give. Had he?
“Just sex,” she repeated with a slow nod.
Even that was foolish in the extreme. His phone was a weight in his pocket.
What would he find when he finally switched it on?
Apart from the deluge of calls relating to business, would there be one from Augustine?
How would he sound? Would he be furious?
Angry? And why couldn’t Benedetto muster more interest in that speculation?
“So?” He was already lifting her clothes back into his arms, his belief that she would accede to his wishes obvious.
“No.” She reached out and took the pile of shirts and pants from him and placed them back on the bed. “No. I’d like you to leave now.” She pulled a sweater from the bottom of the stash and lifted it over her head. It was enormous on her and made her look, somehow, even younger.
Benedetto felt consternation swell inside of him. “You really want me to go?”
She was stubborn. He could see it in the set of her features and he admired her for it.
Only he had one easy way to bring her around to his way of thinking. Gently, so that she didn’t startle, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.
His lips claimed hers hungrily, his body requiring hers to submit as always.
He felt her stiffen and then relax; her hands lifted to knot in his hair and breathing became rugged.
He reached for the hem of her dress and lifted it, so that his hands could touch her beautiful rear and feel her lovely sweet femininity.
The jumper she wore over the gown was scratchy. He wanted to peel it off her but he didn’t dare break their kiss. He needed the spell to stay wrapped around her. He needed her not to think so much and just to feel.
He refused to ask himself why he cared so damned much. Why the idea of leaving her in this tiny apartment in a dangerous part of downtown Rome filled him with a sense of vehement disgust.
He knew only that he wanted her to be safe, and to be happy.
And to be his.
“I love this dress,” he murmured into their kiss, smiling as his fingers pulled her closer towards him.
“It’s not even mine,” the words were garbled; her hands were pushing at his shirt, trying to find the button for his pants.
She made a noise of relief when she was able to free him from the constraint.
Her fingers wrapped around his length. Her whole body quivered with the promise of what was to come.
“Don’t push me away,” she said with desperation.
A part of his brain was hearing the words and understanding the plea behind them. But only a small part.
“I’m pulling you closer,” he demurred, thrusting towards her and groaning as he moved into her precious feminine core.
“You’re so tight,” he muttered, his fingers splaying wide on her back as he held her tight, allowing himself to adjust to the way she felt.
Her legs lifted to wrap around his waist and he thought, not for the first time, how petite and athletic she was; how easily she could be held by him.
She dug her fingers into his firm, muscular shoulders and pressed her forehead against his chest. “I want this,” she said from between snatched breaths.
“How can you …” the words were hard to find.
Every nerve ending was pulsing with pleasure and promise.
“How can you think … this is … over?” Her nails dug deeper as she felt everything in the world flip out of control.
“How can you think … you can walk … away from me … from this.” She moaned at the end of the sentence, low and sweet, as he shifted her with him to the bed.
It creaked as he eased her down, and it complained more loudly still when he brought his weight with her. He laughed crookedly. “This bed is a screamer.”
“Yeah,” she grimaced, but her fingers didn’t let go from around his neck.
“The floor,” he said with a gesture of his head to the cold timber at their feet.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He understood. There was an urgency to their coming together. A need that seemed to exist only between them, and in an insatiable way.
She moved and he moved with her. Their limbs tangled on the ground as once more he claimed her. This time, his weight pressed down on her and his lips clashed with hers with a passion that was fuelled by both anger and desire.
“Why are you fighting this?” She asked between snatches of breath as his hands ran over her body, feeling her through the fabric of the dress.
His expression flashed, for the briefest of moments, with an emotion that was impossible to interpret. “Do I seem like I am fighting you, cara?” His eyes locked to hers and to emphasise his point, he thrust into her slowly, gently, teasing her and making her heart flip over.
Ridiculously, she felt the sting of tears cloying in her throat. He studied her face, and saw the moment her eyes moistened, though she flicked them shut so that her long black lashes made perfect dark crescents against her cheek.
Desire throbbed between them, yet he saw her sadness and his whole body ached to fix her. He kissed the tip of her nose gently, and dropped his forehead to hers. “I’m here with you now.”
But for how long? The question was a darkness in her mind, blotting everything else out.
It was a testament to their physical connection that she was able to grab hold of the sensations he was arousing and come back into the moment. He was whispering to her in Italian, stroking her hair, and all the while, he moved within her, reminding her that their bond was special and strong.
She felt the beginning of her orgasm bursting from deep inside her abdomen, spreading, tingling, throbbing and pulsing through her body.
It started slowly but within seconds it was an intense explosion of the kind of heat she’d never known before.
She clung to him for dear life, crying out as every single cell in her body began to shake.
“Jesus!” She bit her teeth into the smooth tanned flesh of his shoulder. Her nails dug into his back, dragging lines across him, scoring her questions into his skin.
He laughed. Power was a beast in his gut. He felt better than he’d ever known he could. He held her close as he exploded, not that there was any chance of her letting go. They were two survivors of the hurricane of their need.
And even though she was filled with questions, she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask them now.
She wasn’t sure her heart could bear the answers he might give.
She sighed, and slowly, peeled herself away from him, easing herself back to the floor.
He pushed up on his arms, so that he could hover above her and stare into her eyes.
When she blinked hers shut, he made a sound of exasperation. “Look at me,” he commanded, and when she didn’t oblige, he shifted his weight so that he could kiss her eye lids. “Look at me,” he repeated.
“Why?” But she flashed her gaze to his, feeling a burst of electricity as her will power slammed into his.
“This is not a perfect situation,” he said slowly, thinking once more of the dark past that dogged them at every step; of the reason he’d met her and seduced her; of the photo he’d taken and the manner in which he’d sent it.
There was no hope of their becoming anything beyond what they were.
How would she ever forgive him? How would she ever accept the burning need he’d held for revenge?
His need to punish the man who had slowly, in the most painful way, killed his father had eaten him alive.
“Isn’t it?” She murmured, scanning his face. From her perspective, of course, it was the stuff of dreams. He had swept her off her feet. She just wanted to stay there! “You’re pushing me away again.”
A frown tugged at his lips. “I’m attempting to be truthful with you.” Even that was a lie! He looked around her bedroom, his displeasure obvious. “Your room is very … neat … but it is not sufficient for you.”
“I happen to like it,” she retorted with mock offense.
His gaze flared back to hers. “Come with me.”
Her heart flipped in her chest. “For how long?” Her gaze was loaded with determination.
He pushed up to standing. As with the first time they’d made love, he was still basically dressed.
His shirt was undone and hung loose around his chest. Her eyes fell to his shoulder where she could see the hint of a bite mark.
Her cheeks flamed. She had done that. She stood gracefully, and pushed his shirt away, so that her eyes could roam his back freely.
“I’ve scratched you.” She’d done worse than that. She’d come close to drawing blood, by the looks of it. “I’m so sorry.”
He spun around and caught her in his arms. “Di niente,” he demurred, his smile sexy and seductive and perfectly gorgeous. “They are … battle scars.”
“Battle scars?” She shivered. “That’s so primitive.”
“Si. As it should be.” He stroked her cheek gently. “Come with me.”
“For how long?” She repeated, her eyes hoping to see the promise in his eyes that he wouldn’t make with his mouth.
“I can’t give you that.” He held her close, his hips seeking hers. “I don’t deal in promises when I cannot fulfil them.”
“You were perfectly happy to buy me for two days …”
“Two days I can easily fulfil,” he responded, his eyes darkly contemplative.
“I’m not going to upend my life, come and stay with you, and get even more addicted to you, and this, if you could decide one morning that it no longer suits you and ask me to leave.” She shuddered. “I’m just being honest with you, Benedetto. It would break my heart.”
Her statement caused him a flash of wariness. “Our hearts are not involved, cara.”
“Yours might not be,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m not like you.”
Responsibility, guilt and regret jostled through him for priority. His soul was heavy with all. “You need to be.”
A laugh escaped her, but it was lacking in humour. “Oh, okay,” she shrugged sarcastically. “Just wait while I flick a switch and … yep. I’m done.” She did her best to assume his accent. “I am now ready for the meaningless sex to be continuing.”
He laughed despite himself. “I do not sound like that.”
She arched a brow. “Yes, you do. Sort of.” The cold Autumnal sun crested over the neighbouring building and blinded her with its milky brightness. She squinted with relief; her eyes were stinging anyway. “You should go.”
His nostrils flared as he expelled an angry breath. “I want you to be with me.”
“I know.” She swallowed past the bitterness of pain. “But sooner or later you’ll want me to go. And I don’t want to spend the next however long waiting for that.”
“You cannot live your life thinking of death,” he responded tautly. “It is an old adage my grandfather taught me. You cannot ever enjoy life if you’re always scouting for the end on the horizon. Why can you not simply enjoy this for now?”
Her smile was wistful. “I like that. You cannot live your life thinking of death. But that wouldn’t work for me.
” Her delicate throat knotted as she swallowed to keep her emotions at bay.
How many times had she been forced to contemplate death?
As if to recall the worst of her pains, she lifted a finger to her temples and felt the small scar there.
She’d passed out after the fifth blow. She remembered, because she’d counted, as each press of the empty wine bottle had crushed against her.
“I know this place doesn’t look like much, but to me, it’s perfect. I’m free here.”
It was a curious turn of phrase. “When have you not been free?” He pushed thoughtfully.
“That doesn’t matter. The point is, here I am free and I am happy and I think … I can see a time when you could make me more miserable than I’ve ever been.”
“So you are saying no to what we share simply because it will end at some point?”
“You’re the one who said it was time to get back to reality. Well, this is it for me.”
“I’ve changed my mind. You can’t stay here. You must come with me.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that easy. Being back here reminds me of who I am. These last couple of days have been a fantasy. A wonderful, crazy, erotic fantasy. But not real life. I … I’ve learned that I have to be … careful. About who I trust.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“I’d trust you with my life,” she promised truthfully. “But not my heart.” And after two short days, she already understood how much of it he possessed.