Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon (17 page)

‘Stop talking. You and your words drive me insane. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut feeling. Yes?' The pale light of a streetlamp illuminated him. He was glorious. Tall. Strong. Dark. His head tipped back with a smile that would light up a million rugby stadiums. Just being under his heated gaze made every part of her light up too. Anticipation of his kiss, of his touch, skittered across her skin, then penetrated her body, heating her inside.

She thought about what he was saying. What he was asking of her. Her gut feeling was that he would be a very good lover. That he would look amazing with no clothes on. That she wanted to kiss him, to lose herself in the pleasure he was promising. He was asking, sure, but she had to answer. Everything from this moment rested with her next decision. If she said no then she
would live to regret it. The same could be said if she said yes. But she could allow herself one small regret in her life, couldn't she? She remembered a phrase she'd heard once before… Always regret something you've done, not something you haven't. She made herself say the word. ‘Yes.'

‘
Buono
.' Sliding his arm underneath her knees, he stooped and picked her up. ‘Now stop the talking. Let's get some action happening.'

‘Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?' Although she didn't try to too hard to stop him.

He shrugged as he walked up the path to her house, carrying her as if she was no weight at all. ‘You are cold and wet and shivering. You have an injured foot…'

‘It's not that bad…'

‘Humour me. Perhaps if I take the lead and make you want me so bad you won't think so much?'

‘So bad? No, Matteo, the word is bad
ly
.'

With that he stopped short and grimaced. ‘Yes, it's official, you will drive me completely insane.'

Then he plastered her mouth with his, whipping her breath away, along with any further thought process. His kiss was greedy. Hard. Long. Everything she imagined a perfect kiss would be. When he pulled away he was grinning, and breathing heavily. ‘But I'm quite happy to go mad if it means I can make you moan again.'

‘E
R
…M
ATTEO
…' S
HE
was laughing so hard now she could hardly draw breath. ‘That's not the bedroom.'

Opening the bathroom door with a single push of his hips, he tipped her onto the tiles, where she landed feet first. He steadied her. ‘A shower first? I'm freezing, and it's one way to heat up. And I thought maybe we just need to start again—with a clean slate.'

‘Ooh. Are your jokes as bad in Italian as they are in English?' Her heart was pounding, every nerve-ending was on fire. She didn't need heating up—she was already very, very hot.

Flicking on the tap in the walk-in shower area, he grinned. ‘Very bad indeed. Come here.' He pulled her closer, one hand covering hers, the other palming the back of her head as he kissed her again. She gasped as heat and need curled inside her. As he dragged the coat and then her soggy cardigan from her arms his eyes never left
her face. ‘Yesterday I was in here, praying you would join me. Yesterday I thought you might but I was disappointed. Today I am so glad you are here.'

‘Me too. If it's any consolation, I almost did come in here. I was trying to do the right thing. It almost killed me,' she admitted. Her hands fisted his T-shirt, running over dips and curves of muscle, across his chest, down his biceps. She stepped into the shower and pulled him in with her, feeling the most liberated she'd ever felt. Warm water sluiced over them, running in rivulets over their shoulders. And she laughed. It sounded brave, new, echoing across the tiles. Wow. She blinked. So that was what freedom sounded like.

Dragging his T-shirt over his head, she sighed at the sight of his naked torso. My God, he was gorgeous—a heady combination of rippled muscle and tanned skin. She followed the contracting muscles down his chest to his belly. Then her fingers made contact with his jeans waistband. His excitement was evident, and it stoked hers. He wanted her and,
God
, she wanted him. She played a little, running feather finger strokes over his zipper. ‘Ah, shucks, now everything's wet. You're just going to have to take these off.'

‘Of course. But only if you take these off.' Before she could argue about who should go first,
he undid the button on her trousers palmed the fabric and pulled them down. When he reached her feet she lifted one foot then the other and he threw the trousers to one side. On his way back up he stopped briefly to kiss her belly button, the underside of her ribs, her throat. ‘My God, Ivy.
Sei cosi bella
.'

So beautiful
. And she felt it. For the first time in her life she felt like a goddess. But she was distracted by what she could see. He was every bit as amazing as the picture she'd seen that first morning when her life had been about to fundamentally change. When she'd had no idea what was going to happen; never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would be in such achingly close proximity to that body. Lathering some body wash between her hands, she worked up a decent amount of citrus-scented bubbles.

Running them over his chest in slow circles, her hands kneaded down his abdomen. There were dips there too, a groove she hadn't noticed until now. ‘What's this?'

He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Nothing. Just an operation scar.'

‘Funny place to have an operation.' Looking closer, she found another groove. Across his belly but further down, another. ‘They look like bullet holes.'

His laugh reverberated around the room.
‘Didn't I teach you anything in my OR? They're laparascope scars. You see? Nothing important.' He took her hand on a journey to each dip then kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘You aren't the only one who has lived an interesting life.'

‘Mine wasn't interesting. It was just…unusual.' His scars looked pretty. Did he hate them like she hated hers? Did hers look this pretty to him? She doubted that very much. ‘From what? What operation?'

‘Kiss me again and I'll tell you.' His fingers played over her breasts and for a moment she almost forgot the question. Heat pulsated through her. She wanted to kiss him again. To feel his mouth on hers, to taste him. But she wanted to play too.

‘Tell me or I won't kiss you again.'

‘Madness. You and your words.' He didn't give her a chance to argue but pushed her against the glass wall and crushed his mouth on hers until she couldn't think straight, until all she wanted to do was touch him. This thing that had been building between them for the last few weeks was so acute, so overpowering. ‘I want you, Ivy. I want you too much. You drive me crazy.'

She wasn't going to argue about that. Talking was wasting time. She ran her hands round his waist, grabbed a handful of his bum, making a mental note to ask him later about his scars.
Right now she wanted more, she wanted everything he had to offer. With a sharp slap she whacked him on the backside. ‘This is the cause of all the trouble. I want to see it. I want to see it right now. I want to see you naked.'

He laughed. ‘You already have. The whole world has.'

‘Don't I know it.' She pressed herself against him, the water still sluicing over them, the last of the bubbles draining down the plug. ‘I want a private audience with your bottom, Mr Finelli. Make it happen.'

‘Ah, okay. If you insist.' He turned and began to hum a sexy striptease song as he started to peel his jeans down, a wiggle of the hips, a coy wink, the teasingly slow lowering of his zip. Her mouth watered—every part of her hot. The best private show of her life.
The only one
.

He was the only one.

For a second she hesitated, her heart pounding loud and hard. What did that mean?

She pushed that thought away—no more dissecting things.

Then, her attention firmly back on Matteo's now naked back and…ass…assets, she swallowed. Hard. Her body was simmering. Her core hot. There it was, in all its glory. Peachy indeed. And ripe. God, yes. Extraordinary.

With a quick wiggle he looked over his shoulder,
faking the pose from the picture, arms raised against the shower wall. ‘Impressive, yes?'

‘Hmm, I've seen better.' Oh, holy cow.
If Becca could see me now
. ‘Maybe I need a closer look.'

‘Feel, I think. Examination is always important. But first…' He turned, fully naked. And she gasped again. He was beautiful. Big. Hard. So damned confident. So dazzling.

Then he, in turn, reached for the shampoo. With slow sensual strokes and in a silence split only by sighs and moans he began to wash her hair, sensually releasing all fear of being here with him, doing this, all shock of the bicycle incident washed away. The shaking that remained came purely from her desire. The quickened breaths only from his touch, from the anticipation of more.

She tried to reach for him through the steam but he shook his head, concentrating on rinsing the shampoo away. Then he started to massage her shoulders, her neck, tantalisingly close to her breasts…nuzzled against her throat, kissing a trail to her collarbone, down to her bra. Which he undid with supreme ease. The man was clearly used to seducing women.

His fingers went lower, caressing her abdomen, her bottom…and he removed her panties…
Every part of her strained for his touch. Heat spiralled through her.

Every part of her thrummed with desire. She felt dizzy. To steady herself she grabbed onto his shoulders, reaching, on tiptoe, to give him another kiss. But he had other ideas for his mouth.

When his lips closed around her nipple she thought she had died and gone to heaven. When his fingers slid between her thighs she knew she was definitely there.
Floating
. ‘Oh, Matteo. That is…amazing.' She wrapped a leg round his as his stroking became more intense. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him now. Desperation and urgency began to claw through her gut. She was losing…losing all control to his expert touch.

Losing herself…

She could feel his erection against her thigh. Hard and hot. Her fingers closed around it. Now it was his turn to gasp.
‘Mio Dio.'

‘Matteo. I need you.' He was so tantalisingly close. ‘I need you inside me.'

His forehead rested against hers as his fingers slowed. ‘Not yet. Not yet.'

‘Now, Matteo. Please. I want you.' She found his mouth again, kissed him hard in a flurry of wet hunger. She bucked against his hand, faster.

‘Oh, God.' His eyes shifted from the shower to the door, and back to her. ‘Condom…we need…'

Noooooooooo. Don't stop
. ‘I don't have any.' For a moment she almost didn't care.

The water came to an abrupt stop. He was already out of the shower area. ‘In my bag. In the bedroom.'

Shoving past him, she grabbed his hand. ‘What are we waiting for?'

‘We are all wet.'

‘I don't care, Matteo. I just need you.'

That was a thought.

She pushed that away too.

The journey to the bedroom was too long. The faffing with the condom was really too long. But then he was lowering her onto the bed that already smelt of him, and she wanted to sink deep into it and never re-emerge.

‘Yeeeogh!'

‘What the hell…?' She followed Matteo's jump from the bed as a ginger furball streaked across the room, yowling.

‘Your damned cat. My damned butt.' He was peering over his shoulder and rubbing a cheek.

‘Oh. No! Not picture perfect any more? It's his bed, I'm afraid. You're just trespassing as far as he's concerned.' Looking at the claw marks indenting those perfect cheeks, she bit back a smile. ‘Oh. Goodness. But thank God it was the backside and not the front. Come here and let me kiss it better.'

Eyeing an unrepentant Hugo sitting smugly in the corner, washing one leg with no care in the world, Matteo hissed. ‘I do not like making love with an audience.'

Making love.
It was too soon, too immense a thing to imagine that that was some place they'd reached. ‘I think he wants to show you who is the alpha male.'

‘No contest. Hands down. I win. Every time.'

Yes, he did. No argument there. She opened the door and shooed the cat out, then came back to Matteo, spiralling fingers through his hair. ‘But I think you have to prove it. I might need some convincing, because up until now Hugo's been the only significant male in my life. Show me how alpha you are.'

‘Pah. I have nothing to prove. I'm not fluffy. I'm not fat. And I would never, ever hurt you.' Matteo pulled her to him and smothered her mouth with his and she let herself believe him. Let his fingers work magic, let the doubt fairies creep back into the dark place they'd come from. This time the kiss was slow and deeply sensual. His eyes fixed on hers, so dark and misted and full of something…something deep and honest and true. She couldn't look away. Needed to watch him, to see in his eyes what she knew was mirrored in hers. This was pure. Real. Profound.

The stroke of his tongue against hers sent
shockwaves through her, stoking the heat again. Bringing her to fever pitch. ‘Matteo.' She didn't know what to say, couldn't find enough words to describe the emotions rippling through her. Enough that everything she thought, everything she felt came down to one word. ‘Matteo.'

‘Ivy. Ivy…'
He wanted her. He called her name. He was losing control. This amazing, accomplished, sexy man was here. With her. For her.

He laid her down on to the bed. Then he was sliding inside her in one deep thrust. And she felt the initial stretch and an intense sharp sting that melted into need. But she still kept watching him, watching that beautiful face showing every nuance of emotion. The intensity of pleasure. The pain of ecstasy. The wonder of such honesty. And she felt every bit as he did. She was raw. Open.