Sudden Legacy (13 page)

I was flooded with conflict.

I believed him. I knew there had to be extenuating circumstances, but I believed him. Three and a half years was a long time to go without a lover’s touch. No one knew that better than I. I shifted my shoulder to get him to raise his head. “I believe you.” He stared blankly at me, unmoving. I pushed my pelvis against him to show my intent. “I trust you. I want to keep going.” I could feel him grow hard again instantly. His quick response would have been comical if I hadn’t been so relieved. I pulled him into another heated kiss. With the exception of his lips, he still hadn’t moved. “Julien...” I pressed against him, rubbing my pubic bone against his hardness beseechingly, trying to wriggle him back into position. I nipped at him, trying to get his passionate fervor back. Snaking my hand between us, I set him against my entrance. I could feel his member jump eagerly at my touch. Our pulses thrummed against each other at our sensitive point of contact. I raised my hips, pressing the tip of him into my fold.

His stillness was maddening. “Julien...
Julien, fuck me,
” I whispered. He stopped kissing me and grew still as a statue. He said only one word.

“No.”

Then he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt and filling me completely. I gasped. Immediately I started to tighten around him. He stayed like that for a moment, fully embedded, feeling my muscles convulse in the start of what would be an epic orgasm if he would just move the slightest bit. When I had calmed down enough to handle it, he began to rotate his hips while still managing to stay deep within me.

He started kissing me again. Tender, sensuous kisses. He explored my mouth, then kissed and sucked his way to the sensitive skin below my ear. “I have missed this,
Chérie
,” he whispered against my ear. “I remember this. I remember every glorious centimeter of you.” He punctuated his last few words with thrusts that rubbed his foreskin against my g-spot. I started to convulse again and he stilled. “Not yet,
Chérie
. Not yet. We have much time to make up for.”

I just moaned and rubbed against him like a wanton. I had lost all ability to form a coherent thought. He kept me like that for what seemed an eternity. I was balanced on a precipice. I was floating atop the crest of a wave, waiting, waiting for him to release me to go crashing down the other side. He detonated me quite by accident. He took my nipple into his mouth, pinching it tightly between his lips. It was more than I could stand. My muscles clenched around him so violently he groaned in ecstasy. The force of my orgasm was such that it pulled from him his last bit of control. He shuddered as he came, moaning into my mouth with his kiss. “
Dio Mio, ti amo
.”

I didn’t know much Italian, but I knew enough to recognize
that
.
My God, I love you.
I was unsure how to respond. Was that just pillow talk? Was he mumbling post-coital sweet nothings, or was he returning the sentiments I had professed all that time ago on a yacht in the Mediterranean? He noticed the change in me. He rested his weight on his elbows and stared down into my owlish eyes. “What is it,
Chérie
?”

I tried to look unaffected. I didn’t want to ruin our afterglow. “Noth...nothing.” I coughed a little as I answered. With my ardor cooling I was beginning to notice my lungs burning from their forced exertion. He was still inside of me, and my cough pushed at him the slightest bit. Still half hard, he pushed back into me, causing little sparks to tingle on my sensitive flesh. “I realize it’s poor timing, but for all that, it’s no less true.
Ti amo.”
He dropped a kiss on my lips.
“Je t’aime.”
Another kiss. “I love you, Lara.”

I could feel hot tears spilling over and running down my temples to pool annoyingly in my ears. He wiped at them, kissing my damp skin and then my lips. I could taste the salt from my tears on his lips. “
Tu me brises le coeur
, Lara,” he whispered against my mouth. “What are these tears?”

“Where were you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Where have you been all this time?”

Julien could tell we were in for a long discussion. He kissed me one last time before slowly pulling out from my warmth and kneeling above me. He helped me to sit up and I felt the rush of his seed spill out onto the blanket. I made a mental note to stop by the pharmacy in the morning for the morning after pill.

We propped ourselves up against the side of the nearest couch using pillows. Julien settled me into the crook of his arm, right up against his ribs. If I put my head down I could hear the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. When we were both comfortable, he began to speak.

“I wanted to come to you, Lara. After you left. I had gone so far as to arrange air passage to chase after you, but before I could board the plane I was told my father had suffered a stroke. You can imagine my upset.”

I sat up straighter in alarm. “Julien that’s terrible! Is he okay?”

He gathered me back against his side. “He is still alive.”

We sat quietly for a moment. I had a hundred questions I wanted to ask, but I held my tongue, giving him time to collect his thoughts. “My father, he was a very driven man. He built himself an empire from nothing. You’ll recall I told you of his humble beginnings?”

I nodded, remembering the story. It wasn’t lost on me that Julien was speaking of his father in the past tense.

“I can’t believe the summer is almost over.” I sighed and ran my fingers through the water of the fountain I was leaning against, watching the ripples swirl into the bubbles formed from the water trickling over the edge of the higher bowl.

Julien fished around in his pocket and came out with a coin. “Here,
ma chérie
, make a wish.” I cocked a brow at him. “A wish?” He nodded and gave me a half smile of encouragement. “And what would I possibly need to wish for?” I asked.

“A longer summer perhaps?” He flipped the coin into the air with his thumb. I caught it easily. “Okay, I wish for a longer summer,” I said while scrunching up my eyes for extra wishing powers, then I tossed the coin into the fountain.

“Wish granted,” Julien said.

“Really? You have the power to grant wishes?” I teased.

“Some wishes,” he answered. There was a mischievous twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“And you can control the changing of the seasons? That’s an impressive parlor trick indeed mister Diotallevi.”

Julien chuckled at my use of his surname. “Well, to be fair, I cannot control the changing of the seasons
Chérie
, but I
can
make the ending of summer lose its bitter taste.”

He was obviously up to something. He had my full attention. “And just how will you do that?” I asked.

“Simple,” he replied with an almost haughty shrug. “Just stay.”

I snorted a laugh, realizing I was actually disappointed that he didn’t have a magic fix for my impending departure. “I can’t ‘just stay’,” I said, grabbing the wine bottle we had been sharing between us and taking a very unladylike swig before setting it loudly on the edge of the fountain. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, meeting his gaze and joining in his laughter at my horrid lack of manners.

“But you
can
stay,
Chérie
. What is so important back home that you cannot stay a bit longer?”

His charm was in full force today. I gave him a pragmatic stare. “As much as I’m sure Marla would love me to take up permanent residence on her floating palace, I do have to actually return home. My grandparents wouldn’t be too thrilled with my extended absence. Plus I have to get ready for school.”

His eyes shown with interest. “School? What are you studying?”

I grunted a noncommittal something or other.

He chuckled. “You don’t sound very committed.”

I just shrugged, embarrassed by my inability to choose a major.

“It’s just as well, you know,” he said, very matter of fact. “I have yet to make use of anything I studied at university.”

My eyebrows rose at this new piece of information. “You have a degree?” I asked.

He had the grace to not look insulted by the surprise in my voice. “Yes,
Chérie
. I could go on endlessly about topics guaranteed to put you to sleep. Though, I must confess, it is so much more enjoyable for me to keep you awake.”

I smiled at his innuendo. “Well,” I said, “Your grandparents must be very proud of you. Mine on the other hand, hope I have become inspired over the summer.”

He shrugged and ripped a chunk from the baguette we were sharing. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met my grandparents.”

“Really?” Julien hadn’t spoken much of his family.

“It’s not as dramatic as it sounds,” he said. “My mother’s parents died before I was born, and my father, well, I don’t know of his parents.” I popped a bite of cheese into my mouth, hoping he would go on. He didn’t let me down. “My father was raised in an orphanage.”

“Oh? Then mightn’t we deduce that his parents are also dead?”

Julien shook his head. “He was left on the steps of a small church shortly after World War II. Most likely the cast off of an unwed mother. The nun in charge of such things must have had a mind for history, because she gave him the surname
Diotallevi
.”

My confusion shown on my face, so Julien elaborated. “
Diotallevi
was a common surname given to foundlings in the eighteenth century. It is a prayer that roughly translates to ‘May God raise you’. Rather fitting, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s lovely. Are you close with your father?”

Julien hesitated a half beat before answering. “Until recently.”

“You don’t want to talk about it.” My voice was quiet, not wanting to push in where I was not welcome.

I could feel the change in his mood. He became almost somber for a moment, before quickly masking it with anger. “It is a simple difference of opinion,
Chérie
. My father wants a
protégé
more than he wants a son. He thinks the whole world should run on his time, and he fails to see the benefit of ‘Squandering my time on hedonistic pursuits’.”

I just stared at him, wide eyed. I didn’t know how to respond to his mini tirade. Clearly it was a fresh wound, not yet healed.

He noticed my discomfort and took mercy on me. “
Désolé, ma Chérie.
I did not mean to upset you. My father and I will reconcile, but I’m ashamed to admit there is a petty boy inside me that refuses to take responsibility for any wrongdoing. My father will just have to be patient while I figure out my next steps on my own. I am a grown man. He should trust in himself enough to know he raised me to know my own mind.” He cocked his head and gave me a sweet smile to make up for this little impromptu therapy session. “Perhaps you are not the only one searching for inspiration this summer, no?”

I returned his smile and attempted to change the subject. As fascinated as I was with all things Julien, I didn’t like seeing him upset. “Why don’t you come visit me? I could teach you about American Thanksgiving. You could bring your father and the two of you could hash things out in a public forum over turkey and candied yams. It’s a long revered American tradition.”

He laughed. “Sounds... entertaining, to say the least.” He dropped his arm over my shoulders. “So tell me,
Chérie
, what delightful things do you ‘hash out’ with your father over Thanksgiving dinner?”

I looked down at my hands. I hated the turn this conversation was taking. “I’m afraid I have something in common with
your
father, in that I never knew my biological father. He took off when he found out my mother was pregnant.”

He hummed in thought. “That’s a shame, Lara. Every child should know their father. A person likes to know where they come from, no?” I nodded. “Do you know anything of him? His name? His whereabouts?”

I shook my head. “I know enough. He was young and stupid - two forgivable facts - but he was also selfish and cowardly. I consider myself lucky not to have known him.” I truly thought I believed my words, but there was obviously more going on in my subconscious mind because there was no mistaking the venom in my voice.