An Inheritance of Shame(58)

Lucia kicked off her shoes. Angelo laughed softly. ‘There goes my fantasy.’

‘I think I can do better.’

‘I’m sure you can. In fact, my fantasy is becoming less and less about shoes and much more about you—and me.’ Tugging on her hand, he drew her to the bed, pulling aside the duvet, and then took her into his arms and she curled into him, sliding her legs along his, her softness against the hard, muscular planes of his chest and abdomen. In the comforting cradle of his arms she remembered how good he felt, how right. How much she missed this warmth, this connection, and how she never wanted to be without it again.

That connection strengthened with every touch, every kiss, every caress. Lucia arched against him, gasping aloud as he touched her in every intimate place, hands and mouth, fingers and lips. And she touched him back, tentatively at first and then with growing confidence and power, revelling in the way he responded, drawing his breath in a hiss through his teeth as she followed the path blazed by her hands with her mouth. She knew every part of him now, and yet she wanted to know more. Needed more, craved that full union, when her body would be joined with his wholly and utterly.

‘Angelo…’

‘I’m here, mi cucciola,’ he whispered as he rolled her onto her back, his body poised over hers. ‘Amore mio. I’m here.’ He slid a condom on and then joined his body with hers, filling her right up so she gasped again, her nails biting into his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him even more fully into herself.

‘I—’ she gasped, unable to manage more as his body drove her closer and closer to shattering completely. ‘I love you—’

‘I love you,’ Angelo said, his voice breaking on the words, and then he kissed her as her body convulsed around his and the world fell apart and came together again, a more beautiful and perfect whole than ever before.

His words still reverberated through her as she lay in his arms, sated and sleepy. I love you. He’d actually said it. But had he meant it? Or had it simply come from the intensity of the moment.

‘You’re wondering if I meant it, aren’t you,’ Angelo said softly. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and Lucia turned to look at him, unable to dissemble.

‘Did you?’

‘Yes.’ He sounded quiet, certain, and yet a little sad. ‘Yes, although this is so new for me, Lucia. I’ve never loved anyone before. I’ve never let myself.’

‘I know,’ she said softly.

‘But I love you. It doesn’t make it easy or comfortable.’ He let out a shaky laugh. ‘But it feels right. And I can’t live without it now. Without you.’

They made love again, even more slowly and languorously this time, and afterwards they showered, washing each other before they made love a third time until Lucia laughed, her face buried in Angelo’s neck.

‘I’ll be exhausted tomorrow.’

‘Good thing we can spend the whole day in bed, then.’

‘Don’t you need to be anywhere?’ she asked once they were back in bed, snuggled against each other, this time to sleep. Angelo slid his fingers along hers in turn, not speaking for a moment.

‘I can spare a day or two,’ he finally said, and Lucia could not keep the disappointment from whispering through her.

‘A day or two,’ she repeated, and he rolled over to face her.

‘This time. But there will be other times and places, Lucia. Other escapes.’

She stared at him, wanting to accept what he said, wanting to believe in it, and yet something held her back. ‘What is it?’ he asked, and drew her fingers to his lips. ‘You’re frowning.’

‘I don’t want a relationship of escapes,’ she said after a moment. ‘What are we escaping, Angelo?’

He sighed and rolled onto his back, his hand still loosely clasped with hers. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘How did you mean it?’

‘Just…’ He shrugged. ‘We’ll have other holidays. Other cities, other hotels—I want to show you the world.’

‘And I want to see it with you,’ she said, wishing she could leave it at that, and be content with what they had. Yet she couldn’t. That fear still lurked her inside her, whispered its taunts. She knew she wanted to silence that sly voice for ever, and the only way to do that was by speaking it aloud.

‘But seeing cities—travelling the world—that’s not real life, Angelo.’