An Italian Affair (2 page)

I spend
most of the day checking emails and spreadsheets as usual, but by
the time 2pm rolls around, I’m famished. I make a cheese sandwich
for myself and Matteo, but this time I walk back into the house
when I’ve served him. He seems mildly disappointed, but I can’t
help it. Forget about holding a conversation, I can’t even look at
him properly anymore. I give David a call when I get in.

“
Kelly,” he says, picking up after several rings. He sounds
mildly irritated. “What do you want?”

“
I was just wondering what time you’d be home,” I mumble.
“Sorry.”

“
Sometime later,” he says curtly. “Anything else?”

“
Tonight?”

“
Yes.”

“
For dinner?”

“
Yes.”

“
Okay,” I say, but I’m not sure if he even waits for me to get
the word out before cutting me off.

I’ve finished most of my work for today, so I decide to make
use of the extra ingredients in the fridge and make something for
David and me to share when he gets home tonight. I eventually
decide on spaghetti carbonara — nothing too fancy, but it’s his
favourite, and it looks pretty good once I’ve garnished it with
herbs. There’s also a bottle of champagne in the cupboard that we
were saving for a special occasion, but I decide that this counts.
After all, we haven’t spent any quality time together for quite a
while. By 5pm the table is set, the candles are lit, and the
sensual music is playing.

By 8pm, David is still not home. I sit alone, staring at the
clock and poking at my plate of cold spaghetti with my fork. The
temptation to call him is getting stronger and stronger, and before
I know what I’m doing, the phone is in my hand and I’m dialling his
number.
He should be here any
second,
I tell myself as it rings.
He’s probably just stuck in traffic.

He
doesn’t answer, so I accept the idea that he’s just busy driving
back. But by the time 8:30pm rolls around and he’s still nowhere to
be seen, I begin to question myself. I call him three or four
times, each time getting slightly more desperate, until he finally
calls me back at 9pm.

“
I won’t be home tonight, baby,” he says, his voice unusually
soothing. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“
I…” I try to speak, but my throat closes. “Okay.”

“
Work has just taken over. I’ll make it up to you when I
can.”

No you won’t.
I want to say it out
loud so badly, but before I can say anything else, I hear the soft
‘click’ to indicate that he has hung up.

Chapter
3

I stare
at my phone. At this point, my usual response would be to break
down into tears. But for once, I don’t feel disappointment. I feel
rage. And it’s building up inside me, getting more and more severe
until I can’t take it any longer. Before I can stop myself I’m
turning around, yanking the blue cotton cloth from the table and
sending all of the food spiralling into the air, then around the
entire room — spaghetti plasters the floor, the ceiling, the walls,
and the cupboards, and the plates hit the floor with a loud smash,
shards flying in every direction. Only seconds later I’m sitting in
a heap on the floor, wailing and swearing, annoyed at David for
letting me down, but even more annoyed at myself for letting him
affect me like this.

Before I
know it, a strong pair of arms are stretching around me, lifting me
up and holding me close. When I look up, my gaze is met by a pair
of frosty blue eyes — the same frosty blue eyes that made my knees
weak earlier today. Matteo’s frosty blue eyes. Except instead of
being clouded with their usual mysterious glimmer, this time
they’re brimming with concern. His brow his furrowed, his mouth
pulled downwards.

“
Are you okay?” He asks.

I try to
reply, but my voice cracks and my crying only gets louder. He pulls
me closer, rocking me back and forth in his arms, and then sits
down with me on his lap. I nuzzle into his shoulder and he strokes
my hair. I don’t know how long we spend sitting like this, not
saying a word, but all I know is that I don’t want to let him go. I
can feel his muscles through his shirt where he’s flexing to
support my body, and for reasons completely unknown, I feel safe
and warm in his arms.

After
what seems like hours, but must only be several minutes, I peel my
face away from his tear-drenched shirt and hold back my head so I
can look at him properly. He looks at me too, still smiling and
gently rocking me.

He opens
his mouth to speak, and I think he starts to ask if I’m okay again,
but I interrupt him. Not with tears this time, but with a kiss. His
words crumble into a soft groan as my lips meet his, and his
muscles tense so that his grip on my body tightens. I move my hands
so I’m holding him too, pulling him closer to me and cupping his
sun-kissed cheeks with my hands.

I can
feel him smiling as he kisses me back, and I smile too. My crying
has stopped now, but I can still feel some of the tears sliding
down my cheeks. I think he can too, because after a few seconds of
messaging each other’s lips, he pulls back my face with his hands,
wiping them away with his thumbs and running his fingers down my
cheekbones.

“
I’m okay now,” I whisper so quietly that barely any sound
comes out. I think he hears me, though, because his smile gets
wider and he leans back in. This time he takes control, burying his
fingers into my hair and pulling my head towards his. But his
kisses are so passionate that he forces my head back until I’m
pinned against the back of the chair, unable to move, completely at
his mercy.
So this is what it feels like
to be wanted.

He leans
back, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes on my breasts.

“
Would you like to stay for dinner?” I manage to croak. His
eyes dart around the room where the pasta is still sliding down the
wall, and I can’t help but giggle a little as he looks back at me,
his head cocked to one side. “Don’t worry, we can order
something.”

“
It looks good, it’s a shame for it to go to waste.” He
pauses. “What happened?”

“
My husband cancelled on me again. It’s no big deal, it
happens all the time. I just lost my temper.”

He
smiles, his hand returning to my cheek. “How about we just forget
about him for tonight?”

His
voice is almost seductive, but it’s also sincere and it succeeds in
calming me a little. “Okay.”

“
I’m going to go and get some food. Do you have any
preferences?”

“
I’m good with anything. Let me go and get my purse,” I say,
but he just smiles and shakes his head.

“
It’s on me. I’ll be back soon.”

I occupy
myself by scraping cheese and pasta from the walls until Matteo
returns. By the time I get it all off, it’s soggy and the wall is
stained slightly.

What the hell am I doing?
I ask
myself for the thousandth time.
Why am I
letting this man, who claims to be my husband, do this to me? What
am I becoming?
I can feel the tears
beginning to well up in my eyes again, but this time I manage to
stop them before they fall. When Matteo returns I’m hunched over
the sink, scrubbing the plates and trying to prevent pasta from
clogging up the drain. He lets himself in and coughs quietly to let
me know that he’s back. When I turn around I’m pleasantly surprised
to find him carrying two large pizza boxes. He sets them down on
the table and walks over to the bottle of champagne in the cabinet
beside me which, thankfully, remains untouched.

“
Can I open this?”

“
Why the hell not,” I say with a smile. “It was supposed to be
for a special occasion, but fuck it. Pour me a glass.”

“
I will try to make tonight special for you,” he says, opening
the bottle and carefully pouring each of us a glass. “I hope I can
succeed.”

It is
evident that English is not his native language — his formality is
astounding, and many words are pronounced incorrectly, but somehow
he pulls it off. It’s almost kind of cute. My insides feel warm and
fuzzy again, and I can’t wipe the smile from my face as I sit down
opposite him and watch him open the boxes of pizza. Suddenly, I
can’t take my eyes off him. I’m watching every little thing he
does, analysing it, admiring his movements. I’m craving another
kiss like the one before, craving the feeling of his skin on mine.
I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself. I just want somebody to
love me and show me affection, and I want Matteo to be the one to
do it.

The
conversation starts off slowly. We make small talk about our day,
and I ask him about how the garden is going. He responds
enthusiastically, saying that he’s making good progress and it
shouldn’t take as long as he originally thought. I act excited and
happy, but I can’t help my stomach from sinking a
little.

Although he’s only been here for a day so far, I
actually
like
having Matteo around. I’ve been so used to my own company
that I forgot what it feels like to have someone there for you. And
even if he’s only here out of politeness, I don’t mind. I don’t
want him to leave.

“
I want you to stay.”

He looks
up at me, but doesn’t say anything. His icy blue eyes are heating
up my skin, and I can feel myself blushing. He puts down his pizza
slice and takes my hand from across the table. His fingers are warm
and a little greasy, but I grip them hard.

“
I will stay for as long as you need me to, Kelly,” he says. I
feel my lips quivering slightly, and only seconds later the tears
are falling again, faster and heavier than last time. Then his arms
are around me again, scooping me up and holding me close to his
chest. I lean up and kiss him again, this time without hesitation,
and I don’t stop. He doesn’t stop either, he just grabs me tighter.
After a moment or so I can feel him walking, and before I can
gather my senses, he’s lowering my down onto my bed.

My
heartbeat quickens as he climbs on top of me, straddling me and
pinning my shoulders down with his strong arms. I can see his
muscles twitching through the thin fabric of his shirt, sending a
wave of adrenaline coursing through my body. I tangle my fingers in
his hair and pull his head down until my lips are touching his ear.
“Make love to me.”

Even I know how ridiculous I sound. Of course this man does
not love me, but neither does my husband. But at least this
man
wants
me more
than my husband does. And right now, all I want is to be
wanted.

“
I have never made
love
before,” Matteo replies, sweeping back my long
brown waves with a single tanned finger. “But I can fuck real
good.”

I pull
his white linen shirt from his body with a single sweeping motion
and throw it down the side of the bed. He winks and follows my
lead, lifting my dress over my head and throwing it behind him so
that I’m left with only my underwear to conceal me.

“
You are beautiful,” he says, leaning forward and forcing me
onto my back. He kisses my forehead, then slowly trails his lips
downwards, lingering on my own lips to slip his tongue inside my
mouth. He tastes sweet, like champagne. I expect him just to lie
down and kiss me, but his lips continue southwards. When they reach
my neck, every single hair in my body seems to stand on end in
unison. I let out a soft moan to let him know that I like it, and
he carries on kissing, his teeth occasionally grazing my skin and
sending a fresh wave of pleasure searing through me.

I reach
out and take his hands with mine so that our fingers are
interlocked, and slowly guide them to my breasts. His breath
hitches as I make him touch me, and his hips slam down into mine so
he’s now resting his entire weight on me. He’s heavier than I had
expected, but it feels good, and I like how much power he has over
me. He moves his lips back up to mine and we resume kissing, except
this time he is massaging my breasts, circling my nipples with his
thumbs. All the while he mumbles sweet nothings into my
mouth.

After a
while I begin to slide my hands down his body. I can feel him
squirming under my touch, and my heart begins to pound at the idea
that I could ever excite him as much as he excites me. Hooking my
fingers to the waistband of his jeans, I slowly begin to slide them
down. He is a few inches taller than me so I don’t make much
progress, but he understands my hint and immediately raises his
hips to allow me to pull them down the rest of the way, and then
kicks them off the bottom of the bed.

I can
feel his hard cock pressing against me through our underwear when
he relaxes his hips again, and so can he, because he immediately
begins to grind against me. It starts off slow at first, but
gradually he picks up speed. I open my legs wide and wrap them
around his body, pulling him closer to me. He seems to like this,
because he begins thrusting his hips much faster now, and I can’t
help myself from joining in. His mouth is right next to my ear, and
I can hear him grunting with each thrust as he rubs his erection
against my clit.