Текст книги "Italian Kisses"

Автор книги: Lucy Lambert

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter 7

He took me back to the hotel, driving Italian-style. Lots of revving, honking at traffic lights. Almost reckless. However, he never seemed to lose control.

I don't know how he managed that. Once I realized where we were headed, my skin broke out in goosebumps. The furnace inside me cranked up the heat. I trembled, inside and out.

We tore through the hallway. He picked me up and slammed me against the wall next to the door to his room, even as I wrapped my legs around his waist and squeezed him against me.

"I need you," I said.

"I know."

It was an infuriating reply. Infuriating, and arousing. He turned his head to get a better look at the lock on the door, so I took the opportunity to show my impatience. I sucked his earlobe in between my teeth and bit down on it. Lightly. At first, anyway.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, and his body went rigid against mine at the sharpness of the sensation.

Somehow, he managed to get his key card out and tap it to the lock. The electronic mechanism shot out and he kicked the door open.

We were inside, in the shadows of the entrance hall. He shoved me back against the closed door, one hand squeezing my ass hard enough for me to hiss.

"The bedroom..." I said. I begged.

"Too far."

There was a long, thin desk against one wall. It had a Tiffany lamp on it as well as a few hollow ceramic busts meant for keys and other sundries. He swept them all off with one arm.

The clattering smash of the items on the floor thrilled me, and I nuzzled at his neck.

He set me down on the edge. Then he tore my shirt off, then his own. The shadows filled all the little crevices between individual abdominal muscles. Seeing the way they tensed left my thighs steaming.

Then it was my turn to tear. I ripped his belt out of the loops and threw it down the hall. I saw the way he bulged for me, and that put me over the edge. The seconds it took to wrench his khakis open was an infinity.

But then I held him. He was hot, so hot. And he swelled and hardened and throbbed in my grip. The more I touched him, the harder he became for me. My body responded to his, also throbbing, flushing with heat, opening for him. Waiting for him.

"Emma..." he groaned, his eye squeezing shut and his head rolling back on his shoulders.

Unable to take it any longer, he shoved me back so that he could grip the waistband of my pants and panties at the same time. He peeled them off me, the touch of the cool air on my bared skin exhilarating.

Then he pulled a condom out of his pocket.

"Was that there the whole day?" I asked.

He shrugged his sexy, broad shoulders, my eyes following the way his toned muscles moved beneath his skin. "Be prepared for anything. That's my motto." His eyes twinkled with mischief and desire, and I noticed the way his pulse pounded in his throat.

Another hot tingle ran through me. "So show me what you were prepared to do."

He tore the foil wrapper and I watched him roll the condom down his rigid, trembling length. The throbbing heat between my thighs intensified. If he didn't take me soon, I'd spontaneously combust.

His desire rivalled mine, though. He pulled me closer, my ass hanging off the edge of the desk. I groaned his name when he bumped against me, found my opening, and parted my flesh around his.

I needed him so badly. I needed all of him. Right Now!

I slid my hands down the taper of his waist, revelling in the heat of his skin on my palms. I slid them down until I cupped his incredibly taut and firm ass. Just touching him there had me trembling and clenching inside. Then I pulled him forward, forced him deeper. He didn't resist. He bared his teeth as I took all of him, the hunger inside of me nearly insatiable.

He kissed me, then, his lips brushing mine and then sliding along my jaw line until I could feel the heat of his breath against my ear. "You're warm, Emma. So warm."

I loved the way he felt inside of me, the way he filled me so totally, and the way it felt so right that we be together like this.

With one quick motion of his fingers, he undid the clasp of my bra. He snaked a finger in between the cups and pulled it down, revealing more of my flesh for him.

Before it even hit the floor, he squeezed me and massaged me, fascinated by the way he aroused me, the way my nipples perked and stood erect for him.

He pinched one, the sudden jolt of sharp pain making me hiss. I relished it, that delicious mixture of pain and pleasure.

And then he started thrusting, hard and confident. My body couldn't resist. I came for him quickly, like it was my first time feeling these things.

"I love the way you feel when you come for me, Emma," he said. Then he kissed me. We went so hard that the desk kept slamming into the wall. I was sure some concierge would be coming to the door telling us to keep it down for the other guests. But no one did.

It was only the two of us.

Almost as soon as I descended from my first climax I started climbing into a second. I grabbed his bulging biceps and squeezed them, mimicking other parts of my body. My nails pushed into his skin so hard that they left little pale dimples where I'd driven the blood away.

My back arched and my body shivered, every muscle going rigid, gooseflesh bursting out across my skin as I crested the top of that second climax.

"God, Liam...!" I groaned. Concentration and pleasure mixed together on his handsome face, and he didn't slow down.

I couldn't take much more of this. Much more of him. It was too much, too good. Beads of sweat glistened on both of our bodies, trying to cool us down but unable to deal with that sort of heat.

I let my hands slide back down to his flexing ass again, feeling the power of each thrust as he gave them to me.

It was different when we felt my third climax rearing up inside of me. His thrusting grew desperate. He was so hot and hard for me that I was powerless to resist.

My heat had a similar effect on him. He groaned, his breathing ragged, the concentration on his face losing the fight to his need.

We both reached our peaks at the same time. Liam pushed forward, sinking all the way into me again. Even though I thought it impossible, when he came the heat where we joined became more intense.

We both gasped, clutching the other, trying to hold on. It lasted forever and only a few moments, somehow.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close for a while, my cheek pressed to his bared and heaving chest. I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythmic hammer of his heart, breathing in his scent. Just being present with him while we were still joined together into one.

When we parted, the soreness set in with a vengeance. But I didn't mind. I liked it, even. A memento of our desire.

My legs were like two strands of overcooked spaghetti when I tried to stand up, resulting in me sitting back down on the desk while Liam handed me my clothes.

Although even he had trouble. His legs trembled as well, and even in the dim light of that entry hall I could see the deep flush to his skin, like a fresh tan. I had to look similar, I knew.

"You know, we could have done this back at my flat," I said, rubbing the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand.

Liam didn't put his shirt back on, for which I was thankful. Instead, he'd come out the bathroom with his khakis done back up. I could see the spots on his biceps where I'd pushed my nails into him.

I knew there were similar marks on that perfect ass of his, too. And that made me smile.

He saw that smile and returned it. "Maybe," he said, "But I really did want to show you the city. I'd still like to show you all the things we missed today."

For that, he deserved a kiss. Summoning what little strength remained, I stood up. My legs wobbled alarmingly, but held. He moved to catch me, but I waved him off.

Then I took his face in my hands and pulled it low, so that I could plant a good one on his forehead. I could taste the saltiness of his sweat, and couldn't help smiling at how that sweat had come to be there.

"What was that for?" he said, considering me with those deceptive baby blues again.

"For you. For being here, with me..."

"It's not exactly a chore, you know."

"I know. It's just... hard for me to explain. Just take my gratitude at face value, will you?"

"Yeah, okay," he said.

I looked for and found my one missing sock, rolled into a ball against one of the desk's feet. When I tried leaning over to grab it, my equilibrium left me, my lower back and thighs complaining, and only a sudden snatch at the lip of the desk kept me from planting my face into the expensive-looking hotel carpet.

"Just leave that stuff for now," Liam said. "There's something else I think you'll like."

For a second, I thought he meant he was already prepared for round two. "Let's hold off for a few minutes, can we?"

He frowned for only a moment before catching my drift. "No, not that. Not yet, anyway... Just come here."

Then he scooped me up in his arms and carried me through the suite, careful to step over the ceramic shards in the hallway.

He took me past the bedroom, with its huge bed and panoply of pillows, and past the kitchen and its ill-fated frittata.

We reached the bathroom and he set me down on the tile. I bit my lip, expecting it to be cold, But it wasn't. It was warm against the bare soles of my feet.

Liam chucked. "Heated floors. Incredible, isn't it?"

"Yeah, cool," I replied.

"I know just what you need," Liam continued, a grin spreading out on his lips.

"And what might that be?"

He nodded and I followed the gesture to the enormous jetted bathtub in the corner. It had an elegant, swan-necked spout and even the knobs were marble accented.

It looked like a little slice of heaven. The ache in my back intensified, the weakness in my legs spreading so that I almost crumpled into a heap on that lovely heated floor.

"You really are psychic," I said.

He went over and started drawing the bath, twisting first one knob and then the other while testing the water with his other hand to get the temperature just right.

Then he upended a bottle of vanilla-scented bath foam and squeezed out a generous amount, the liquid immediately exploding into white, soapy suds beneath the pressure of the faucet.

The tub was big enough that it looked like it belonged in a spa. And it had one step leading up to it. I stood on that step, and Liam held my hand when I stepped into the tub.

The heat of the water tingled against my skin, and immediately I felt the velvety smoothness of the foam.

I hissed and groaned as I settled down into the water, which sloshed against the smooth porcelain bulkheads of the tub.

Just the heat alone felt incredible on my overtaxed muscles, and soon I settled down into the reclined position the slope of the tub offered.

The heat and the smell relaxed me so much that I'd nearly fallen asleep when I felt Liam sit on the edge. He had a tall flute of white wine in one hand, which he placed on a small, flat table beside the tub apparently made for just such a service. "Are you ready?"

"There's more?" I said.

He thumbed a marble-accented button between the hot and cold knobs. A motor buried somewhere in the room hummed to life.

Then the jets started. There was one pointed at the small of my back. The sudden pressure made me groan again.

"Careful, sexy sounds like that will make me want you again," Liam said.

I replied with a moan. The jets whipped the suds into an even creamier, fine, and opaque foam. All I could smell was a light and refreshing vanilla scent.

"I've died and gone to heaven," I said, "That's the only explanation."

"The only explanation for what?" He dipped his hands into the water, swirling his fingers in the warmth. The man could have asked me anything at that moment and I'd have told him. He could have for anything at that moment and I'd have been unable to say anything but yes.

"For you. For this bath. For today."

"Well, the Vatican and the Pope are here in Rome. I suppose that's as close to heaven a person can actually get to here on Earth."

"I've always loved Rome," I said, sinking deeper into the water. It enveloped my shoulders with its warm embrace while the jets wrung every ounce of soreness from my muscles.

"It really is an amazing place. Tell me, Emma, if you could do anything, what would it be?"

In my relaxed state, the question easily slipped past all my guards. I smiled at a sudden recollection. "I'd open a little cafe near one of the museums and call it the Roamin' Roman."

Liam groaned at the awful pun, shaking his head. "That sounds like a nice place."

I couldn't help but giggle at his reaction. "Yeah, I know. My dad always laughed at that one, too."

The words had slipped out before I could stop them. All of a sudden, that levy I'd been doing my best to hold up burst, flooding my mind with all the memories from the last year.

They quickly sank down into my chest and stomach, squeezing around my heart and twisting my innards.

I wasn't ready for them. Not yet.

Just like that, I wanted to leave Rome again. Once more, I hated the place I used to love and dream about visiting.

I sat up fast and hard enough that water and suds sloshed up over the lip of the tub. Pressure pushed at the back of my eyes.

Already, a look of surprised concern fixed itself on Liam's face. No, he can't see me like this. Not like this, I thought. I tried to stand, tried to push him aside so that he couldn't see me when I cried.

"Emma, what is it?" he said.

I tried to get out, but started falling back. This time, he caught me. He pulled me closed, wrapping his arms around me, not caring about how I soaked him or how the bath foam dripped down off me onto his khakis.

At first I just wanted to get free and run away, but he wouldn't let go. Then I clutched him, pushing my cheek against his chest when the sobs threatened to wrack my body.

Despite his confusion, he stroked the back of my head, whispering to me that everything was okay.

I didn't know how long I held onto him like that. Long enough for my toes to go all wrinkly from the water, anyway. Long enough for most of the foam to dissolve into a few tiny, floating islands.

Finally, I slumped back down into the water, telling him it was okay.

He must think I'm crazy, I knew. What else could he think? One second I was making a joke and laughing, the next and been on the verge of bawling my eyes right out of their sockets.

That was how I knew this wasn't heaven. Things wouldn't hurt like this if I'd died and gone to heaven.

"I'm sorry..." I said, feeling self conscious. I gathered what was left of the foam around me so that I wasn't totally naked anymore.

"Don't be. Tell me what it was. What did I say?"

I glanced at him and saw the concern naked on his face. And that just cut me deeper. He thinks it's something he said! He thinks it's his fault!

"It's not anything you said. It's me. It's my fault, not yours... God, I must sound so crazy right now."

He reached out and wiped a fleck of bath foam off my cheek. "No, you don't. I know that something is wrong. Something's been wrong for a long time now, hasn't it? Something inside, eating away at you?"

I sat back against that nice slope in the tub, leaning my head back against the lip and covering my eyes with my forearm. The inky black darkness of my eyelids kept me from having to look at Liam.

The cynic in me told he was just being nice until he could get me out of this tub and then out of his life. I ignored that impulse, telling myself that he really was concerned.

Again, I felt the urge to spill everything to him. Everything about how I'd ended up unhappy in Rome. But once again it met that block in my throat before I could actually say the words.

The block seemed to consist mostly of fear. Fear that he might call me stupid or crazy or otherwise invalidate my feelings. There was also that lingering knowledge that despite how well I felt I knew Liam, I really didn't.

Could I trust someone enough who in all practical terms was pretty much a stranger to reveal that part of myself?

All my concerns must have been written across my face. Liam came to a decision.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I said.

"Getting in."

And so he did. Pants and all. He climbed in, the water and remaining suds sloshing against the sides. Some of the waves managed to crest the lip, where they splattered noisily on the step and the floor. Liam ignored it.

Instead he shifted in beside me, wrapping his arm over my shoulder and pulling me close. "Just tell me. You'll feel better."

"You promise?" I said, trying to regain some sense of humor.

"I thought that part was implied," he said through a smile. It was a warm smile, though. Not a hungry, wolfish grin. And the eyes, they don't lie. Right then, his eyes told me that he wasn't lying.

So I swallowed and took a deep breath. Despite the warmth in the water, a chill shivered up and down my spine. When Liam felt that, he held me closer. "It's safe here. You know that, right? It will always be safe with me."

He gave me all the time I needed to gather myself, my hands and feet going pruny. The water never got colder, though. It had to be a heated tub, too.

Even though I didn't feel ready, I launched into a story I'd never told anyone before. I launched into it then because I knew that I'd never feel ready.

"Last November, right after Thanksgiving, my dad got diagnosed with lung cancer. He'd been a roofer all his life, and the doctor said it was probably from handling asbestos. I remember that..."

I remembered everything about that day, actually. I remembered how the maple in our front yard had lost only half its leaves, leaving the top half of the tree covered in rusty shades of orange. I remember how the mail had come late that day, and thinking that was why dad had been upset. He always had little parcels coming from here or there and didn't like it when they ran late.

I remember that my mom had squeezed my hand so hard while we sat on the couch, my dad in the recliner across from us, leaning forward with his hands gripping his knees so that his knuckles were pasty and white.

Liam took the wine glass and handed it to me. I took a nervous swallow. It was good wine, sweet, but not sickly so. Probably expensive. But I couldn't bring myself to try and sort through all the little hints within the wine.

"He was always buying me books and magazines about Rome and Italy. He knew I loved it... At the start, his prognosis was good. But then the chemo stopped working... I remember one morning when I saw him, it was like he was a different person. He used to be big and strong but he could barely sit up. His wrists... they were thinner than mine."

Liam held me close again when a sob wracked me.

I'd gotten this far, I had to finish. Somehow, if I could just finish, I could tell that it would feel better. No matter how much it hurt to get it out, it was better than keeping it bottled in. I could tell that, then.

"It was this past February when we all knew he wasn't going to make it. He chose to stay at home for the end... He did always hate hospitals. One day, about a week before... He wanted to talk to me alone. He told me that he'd been setting aside a little bit of money ever since I was little. It was for a trip to Italy."

Liam nodded slightly, as though seeing a difficult puzzle come together. I didn't tell him how the previous semester at school I'd applied to do a semester abroad in Italy and been accepted. All I had to do was pay the exorbitant tuition and travel fees.

That was when I learned that serendipity could be cruel.

I continued, forcing my way through the rest even though it felt like cold fingers had begun closing around my throat. "He smiled at me, thinking I'd be happy. But I wasn't. I wasn't happy at all. It just felt ridiculous and unfair to me, like I was trading his life for a vacation. It was stupid and irrational, I know. But it was how I felt. Then he made me promise I'd take the money and go to Rome with it. He even called my mom in to hear me make the promise. God, I was so angry.

"He must have seen it in my face. It hurt him. I could see how much it hurt him. He thought I'd be happy, and instead I got angry and left. He didn't know I wanted to come here with him, but now he's gone and it's only me. Don't you see? Does that make any sense?" I said, wondering if I was just babbling, rambling on, sounding crazy.

But Liam didn't let go. He didn't say anything either, he just nodded.

"So I got here a couple months ago. Rome. The place I've wanted to visit since I can remember. And I hate it here. And I hate that I hate it. I'm supposed to enjoy myself, have fun, learn. But I can't, not knowing how I could afford to be here. And that makes it worse! Like a spiral... I don't want to be here. It hurts too much. I just want my dad back. I just want my dad..." Then I couldn't say anything else.

Liam held me close again. I did feel lighter, having that weight taken off me. But there was also worry. How would Liam take it?

After my dad had died, the two words I'd heard the most were, "I'm sorry." Everyone said it. And I hated that, too. I hated their pity and I hated their worthless I'm Sorrys. They just said it because that's what you're supposed to say. Like when someone asks you how you're doing and if you say anything other than "Good" they don't know how to react.

I steeled myself, waiting for Liam to say those two meaningless words.

"It doesn't go away," he said instead, "The hurt never goes away. But you will get used to it, as much as you can. I saw you be happy today. Let yourself be happy. I think if you do, you'll really believe that you didn't trade him for this."

"Just hold me," I said. I know it sounds ridiculous, seeing as I was already sat naked next to him in that tub, but I felt as though I'd just been stripped bare. But that's the only way I can describe it.

I'd shown him what was behind my eyes, and he didn't shrink away or retreat. He held me, just like I asked him to.