A Dangerous Infatuation (17 page)

A gasp escaped her when he proceeded to explore her with an expertise that swiftly brought her to the brink. He held her there, trembling and eager, and then, to her shock, replaced his fingers with his mouth.

‘Rocco …’

He heard the uncertainty in her voice and lifted his head. ‘Don’t you like it?’

‘I don’t know,’ she revealed honestly.

So the Superman husband had never given her the pleasure of oral sex? Rocco felt a spurt of surprise at the man’s selfishness, quickly followed by a surge of masculine triumph that he would be the first to bestow that gift.

‘Let me show you,
cara
,’ he murmured, dipping his head once more and applying himself to his appointed task with a thoroughness that soon had her writhing beneath him. His own excitement mounted when he flicked his tongue across the tight bud of her clitoris and she gave a guttural cry.

‘Please …’ She had never been so fiercely aroused, so desperate for him to possess her and assuage the restless ache of longing deep in her pelvis. Rocco was a sorcerer, and she was utterly enslaved in his sensual spell.

‘I intend to please you,
cara
,’ he assured her thickly.

Emma was caught up in the maelstrom of incredible sensations he was creating. Her eyes flew open when she felt Rocco move away from her. He smiled at the disappointment in her eyes and handed her the protective sheath he had retrieved from the drawer in the bedside table.

‘You put it on for me.’

Colour stained her cheeks. She was a nurse, for heaven’s sake, and this was certainly not the first time she had seen the male form, Emma reminded herself. But the size of Rocco’s erection took her breath away and she fumbled to open the packet. He was iron-hard beneath her fingertips as
she eased the sheath over him. Dear heaven, would she be able to take him? she wondered, feeling a flicker of doubt.

Her heart was thudding beneath her ribs as he pushed her flat on her back and knelt over her, one hair-roughened thigh firmly nudging her legs apart. He kissed her mouth and then trailed his lips down her throat to her breasts, sucking on one taut peak and then the other, until she whimpered with an intensity of pleasure that was almost more than she could withstand.

Only then, when she was trembling with need, did he ease forward and penetrate her with a deep thrust, pausing for a moment while her internal muscles stretched to accommodate his solid length, before he withdrew a little and thrust again.

‘Okay?’ he asked softly, resting his forehead lightly on hers so that their eyelashes almost tangled.

Passion mixed with tenderness was a potent combination, she thought shakily. She felt connected to him in a far more fundamental way than simply the joining of their bodies, and his gentle consideration touched her heart.

‘I’m okay as long as you promise not to stop doing that,’ she murmured—
that
being another thrust, and then another. Each rhythmic stroke was taking her higher, so that within minutes she was hovering on the edge of some mystical place that she had absolute faith he would lead her into.

‘I wish this could last for ever,
cara
,’ Rocco groaned. ‘But I have desired you for so long that I’m afraid you will have to forgive my impatience this time.’ Driven beyond the limits of his control, he increased his pace and his strokes became faster, harder and so intense that Emma clung to his shoulders while the waves of sensation built to a crescendo.

The explosion was violent, and yet drenchingly sweet—

spasms of exquisite pleasure radiating from her central core in an orgasm that was more mind-blowing than anything she had ever experienced in her life. She felt boneless, mindless, and her eyelashes drifted down so that her entire being was focused on the instinctive clenching and unclenching of internal muscles.

‘Look at me, Emma,’ Rocco demanded, aware that he was fighting a losing battle with his control. A degree of male pride made him want to be sure that in the climax of passion she knew it was
him
she was making love with, not a ghost from the past.

She opened her eyes and stared into his glittering golden gaze. For a few seconds he stilled, his big body shaking with the effort of holding back the tide. But he could not fight its relentless force and threw back his head, a harsh groan torn from his throat as his control shattered and he experienced the ecstasy of release.

His convulsive shudders evoked a feeling of fierce tenderness in Emma. This strong, powerful man could be vulnerable in her arms. Instinctively she hugged him close, stroking her fingers through his hair and gently pressing her lips to his cheek.
This
was what making love should be, she thought softly. A complete union of two bodies in perfect accord.

But for her it had been so much more. She could no longer deny the truth to herself. Love had crept into her heart and ensnared her soul, and that was why she had given her body to Rocco. He had restored her self-belief and healed the hurt Jack had caused. Making love with Rocco had been the most profound experience of her life, one that she would never regret or forget, and the beauty of what they had shared brought tears to her eyes.

Rocco’s chest heaved as he lay lax on top of Emma, aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through him. He felt relaxed
and sated, and strangely reluctant to withdraw from her. For the first time in his life he had felt a union that went beyond the physical joining of two bodies. It was almost as if their souls had meshed.

He lifted his face from her neck and sought her mouth, but the dampness on her cheek made him stiffen. The realisation that she was crying felt like a knife in his ribs. Had making love with him brought back memories of the husband she still grieved for?
Did she wish he was Jack?

The unwelcome idea brought him to his senses and he rolled off her. What had he been thinking? There was no special union between them. His soul was untouched, inviolate. The sex had been good—more than good—mind-blowing—but that was all it was. There was no reason to dress it up and look for things that didn’t exist—emotions that he did not want.

He turned his head just as Emma hastily brushed her hand across her face. Clearly she did not want him to see her tears, and he did not want to know the reason for them.

She gave a tiny yawn and looked mortified. ‘I’m sorry—it’s been quite a day,’ she said huskily. Reaction to the day’s events, its happy outcome and spectacular conclusion, was hitting Emma hard, and she was struggling against the waves of tiredness that threatened to engulf her.

Rocco knew she was thinking of those endless minutes on the beach, when her daughter had been missing, and despite his determination to ban emotions from his relationship with her he felt a tug of compassion. She looked exhausted and infinitely fragile, her eyes huge and dark with shadows.

‘Come,’ he said gently, and he gathered her close.

His body immediately stirred once more as he traced his hands over her tempting curves, but he ignored the
siren song of desire and gave in to a deeper need simply to hold her while she fell asleep in his arms.

Emma was already at the breakfast table when Rocco strode into the dining room the following morning. Her cool smile did nothing to allay the annoyance he’d felt when he had woken to find that she had left his bed some time during the night, but the flush of colour that stained her cheeks and the way she hastily looked away from him as he sat down opposite her gave him some measure of satisfaction. He was used to being in control of his relationships and usually
he
was the one to leave his mistress’s bed. The role reversal had left him with a distinct sense of pique.

But everything with this woman was different, he acknowledged ruefully as he poured himself coffee from the jug, added a spoonful of sugar and took a sip of the strong black liquid. Emma had never played by the rules—which made her capitulation the previous night all the sweeter—but he was insulted that she had crept back to her own room like a thief in the night. Particularly as he had been painfully aroused when he had reached for her in the early hours. His body was still throbbing with sexual frustration. He was going to have to set a few ground rules and let her know that
he
would call the shots during their affair, he decided.

‘Nanna and Grandpa are coming soon.’ A high-pitched, childish voice drew him from his thoughts, and he smiled at Holly, who was wriggling on her seat, barely able to contain her impatience at the prospect of seeing her grandparents. ‘Very soon—aren’t they, Mummy?’

‘Yes, but if you don’t eat some breakfast you’re going to be too hungry to go on a trip with them. Now, please eat some yogurt,’ Emma said firmly.

Catching her eye, Rocco murmured, ‘Someone is very excited.’

‘You wouldn’t believe,’ came the rueful reply. ‘I knew she would be up early, but we’ve read a whole book of fairy tales since five o’clock this morning.’

He felt himself relax as the reason for her departure from his bed became clear. Emma would always put her daughter beyond any other consideration, and he respected her for that. Unlike his own mother who, when he had been a child, had frequently entertained her lovers at the family home, and had not cared about his confusion when he had walked into her room and found her in bed with a man who was not his father.

His parents had
not
been good role models for marriage. His childhood had been punctuated by their rows and affairs, their dramatic reunions, followed inevitably by bitter separations. No wonder he had vowed to steer clear of the outdated institution of holy matrimony, he thought sardonically. Why would he choose to tie himself to one woman when he knew he would grow bored with a relationship within weeks?

But lately he had found himself equally bored with meaningless sexual encounters. He had been aware of a vague sense that there had to be something more. But then he’d remember his parents’ vipers pit of a relationship and realise that love was an illusion—wasn’t it?

He raked a hand through his hair and ignored the dish of freshly baked rolls the maid had placed on the table, finding that his appetite had disappeared. Why did a snippy English nurse make him suddenly question everything? he wondered irritably.

Being introduced to Emma’s in-laws when they arrived half an hour later was an uncomfortable experience for Rocco, considering that he had just slept with their dead
son’s wife, but he exerted his usual easy charm and welcomed them to the Villa Lucia.

It was immediately clear that the Marchants adored their granddaughter and shared a close bond with Emma—and that they had been devastated by the death of their son.

‘Jack was our only child,’ Alison told Rocco, while Emma went to check that she had packed Holly’s favourite soft toy. ‘Holly lives on through him.’ Tears filled her eyes, and her grief was painful to witness. ‘Emma is a lovely girl. Peter and I hope she’ll marry again one day, but of course Jack was the love of her life.’

‘I understand,’ Rocco murmured.

What he did not understand was why Emma shied away from ever talking about her husband, and why the mention of his name caused her to withdraw into herself. Mystery surrounded her relationship with Jack Marchant, and he felt frustrated that even though they had shared the most intense sexual experience last night she did not trust him enough to confide in him.

Determined not to risk upsetting Holly by indulging in an extended farewell, Emma kept a tight hold on her emotions as she leaned into the car and gave the little girl a kiss and a brief hug. ‘Be good for Nanna and Grandpa, won’t you?’

‘I will, Mummy. Love you.’

Dear, sweet Holly. So trusting and innocent and infinitely precious. She would willingly lay down her life for her child, Emma acknowledged, blinking back tears as her parents-in-law’s car with its precious cargo rounded a bend and disappeared from view.

‘She’ll be back in a few days,’ Rocco reminded her.

‘I know.’ She forced a smile. ‘I don’t know what to do with myself now that Cordelia has accepted the Harrises’

invitation to stay in Rapallo with them for a couple of days and Holly has gone. I think I might be bored.’

‘As suredly not,
cara
,’ Rocco drawled, the velvet-soft sensuality in his voice sending a quiver down Emma’s spine. ‘I can think of a number of ways to keep you occupied.’

His eyes roamed over her and he congratulated himself on his excellent sense of taste in female attire. The short denim skirt he’d bought her when she had first arrived in Portofino moulded her pert derrière and revealed a tantalising amount of slender, lightly tanned thighs, while the simple white T-shirt clung to her generous breasts like a second skin. An erotic fantasy filled his mind, of stripping her right there on the front lawn and tumbling her down onto the sweet-scented camomile.

Reality intruded as he remembered the report on his desk that required his urgent attention, and the several hours of work waiting on his laptop.

The glimmer of tears clinging to her lower lashes like tiny raindrops caused him to abandon both ideas. Work could wait, and he would have to control his sexual frustration for a while. Emma was putting on a brave face, but he could see what a wrench she found it to be parted from her daughter. Once again he was surprised to find that the desire to comfort and protect her was stronger than his desire to satisfy his sexual urges.

He looped his arms around her waist and could not resist dropping a light kiss on her mouth, smiling lazily at her startled look and the flush of pink that stained her cheeks. Last night she had been a passionate temptress in his bed, and her shyness this morning both amused and touched him.

‘I want to spend the day with you,’ he said softly. ‘How about we take my boat out? We can sail along the coast
to Camogli and have lunch there.’ He drew her closer, so that their bodies were pressed together and she could be in no doubt of his state of arousal. ‘And afterwards we’ll have a siesta onboard the
Anna-Maria
.’

Emma caught her breath at the hungry gleam in Rocco’s eyes, and felt the sweet seduction of sexual anticipation unfurl in the pit of her stomach.