CHAPTER 20
Franco Trucco had always prided himself on his discretion. It was what made him the ideal accountant. And being the contabile for the Lucchesi cosca, as his father had been before him, was a great honor. The contabile was a man of respect, third in charge after the capo di società and the don himself. In his role, Franco kept track of and dispersed the cosca’s funds to the men on the payroll. He also had the don’s ear, so being friends with Franco had certain benefits. He never lacked for friends.
However, Franco prided himself on being a humble, modest man. Certainly, he was a man of means. But he was not king, and he didn’t aspire to be so. Only a fool would want the crown, and the danger that came with it. It was so much better to be near the top than actually there. He had nearly as much influence with much less risk. And that was important. He’d seen what Carlo Andretti had done to Don Rinaldo’s family.
So Franco had done his work quietly and with pride, enjoying his position and the fruits that came along with it. And he had loved Don Rinaldo and Don Enrico. Truly they were princes among men. When Don Rinaldo stepped down after his heart attack, Franco vowed to advise Don Enrico well and to serve him with all the discretion the Trucco family had always rendered. At the time, Franco had thought nothing could ever change how he felt.
But he’d been wrong.
As always, the end had come because of a woman. But not just any woman. Franco’s daughter, Fiammetta. His youngest, and the smartest and most beautiful of his three daughters. Franco kept it to himself, but Fiammetta had been his favorite. He’d secretly delighted in her impertinence, her quick wit, her penchant for misbehaving. She’d done all the things Franco would have liked to have done, and had she been a son, he could have openly relished her behavior, instead of censuring it in public but winking at her in private and letting her off with a kiss. She’d kept the secret of his favor. It had been better for them both that way.
After Don Enrico’s wife Antonella had died, an idea had come to Franco. The don needed a wife, and Fiammetta had needed a husband. Franco had seen how Don Enrico had rebuffed all the eligible girls presented to him; a direct approach would not work. Care—discretion—had been needed, as always. So when the don’s assistant had moved into another position within the cosca, Franco had seen his opportunity. He’d had Fiammetta installed as Don Enrico’s secretary within days. He’d whispered not a word of what he’d hoped for to Fiammetta. Despite their bond, she’d been headstrong enough to foil his plans. So he’d prayed to the Virgin and hoped.
The Virgin had answered his prayers. Franco had known it when one day Don Enrico’s and Fiammetta’s eyes had kept locking together, then sliding guiltily away during a meeting. The way Fiammetta had flipped her hair out of her eyes when she’d known the don was looking, the way she’d shifted in her seat and licked her lips when she had been taking notes, the way Don Enrico’s eyes had tracked her movements like a cat eyeing its next meal—Franco had known what all these signs meant. He’d rejoiced in his heart. His status would increase; his family would be elevated further once they’d married into the Lucchesi family. His grandsons would be capi, would head the cosca.
But nothing had turned out as Franco had hoped. Instead, his daughter, the light of his heart, was dead. And the way Don Enrico could no longer meet his eyes meant he was responsible, even though his blood-alcohol test results had been lost, even though there was no proof, no admission of guilt from the don. Franco knew. Don Enrico was guilty. But how could he avenge his daughter?
Franco had long known about the unusual payments first Don Rinaldo, then Don Enrico had been making to Edmund Tyrell, their attorney in England. What he didn’t know was why, as he’d told Vincenzo Andretti. Now it was time to investigate. Time to unearth the worms beneath the dirt.
Franco’s arduous review of the books revealed that the payments had gone out to Tyrell every month at the same time for twenty-two years, before stopping five years ago. But these payments weren’t the attorney’s usual retainer. That was a separate payment. This one was marked Personal, meaning it was to be counted against the don’s compensation.
Calling Tyrell and inquiring about the payments would of course be fruitless. The man was as tight-lipped as any man of honor. And making such a call would tip off Don Enrico to his inquiry. There had to be another way to find the truth.
Franco puzzled over this matter for days. The answer came while Franco was staring at another series of unusual payments to Tyrell. These payments started nine years ago and stopped after four years. They were also marked Personal, but with a second notation, “C.U.,” and were for varying amounts. Since the amounts weren’t round numbers, they must be payments for something specific.
What could “C.U.” mean? Franco racked his mind for names of associates with those initials, names of businesses, names of places. But nothing came to mind. Because both series of payments stopped five years ago, the payments to the mysterious “C.U.” in the spring and the others at the end of the same year, the timing suggested these payments were somehow linked.
Taking another tack, Franco dug into Don Enrico’s trips to England. Perhaps something about his meetings with Tyrell would yield him a clue. At first, he saw nothing. Then he noticed a coincidence. About five years ago, Don Enrico had traveled to England, visited Tyrell, and then made a side trip to Cambridge in the summer, to attend the commencement ceremony for the son of a business contact in London. “C.U.”—could that mean Cambridge University? Franco’s spine tingled. Four years of payments could indicate that Don Enrico had financed someone’s degree. But who? And why?
A phone call to the university, during which Franco posed as a government auditor looking into Edmund Tyrell’s books, elicited the answer to the first question. The payment was for tuition, on behalf of Mr. Nicholas Reginald Clarkston.
Franco’s heart stopped beating for a moment. Reginald. It was an alternate translation for Rinaldo. Could this man be Don Rinaldo’s child?
An online search of Nicholas Clarkston’s particulars made Franco’s pulse race. The payments to Tyrell commenced the same month Clarkston was born. Judging by the date of Clarkston’s birth, he was fathered while Don Enrico was at boarding school in London.
Franco was not one to believe in coincidences. Clarkston must be Don Enrico’s illegitimate son, not Don Rinaldo’s. Traditionally, at least one of the middle names given to a boy belonged to his grandfather. Thus, Reginald.
But he needed proof. He ordered a copy of Nicholas Clarkston’s birth certificate. Since U.K. law dictated that only a paper version of the certificate could be ordered, it would take at least five days to arrive. Five long days, but then he’d have proof, assuming the father’s name was listed. Proof Don Enrico couldn’t refute or deny.
A further search for details about Nick Clarkston yielded another interesting tidbit: Clarkston had recently started to work at Interpol. Perhaps that too could work in Franco’s favor. If he didn’t get his justice the way he preferred, perhaps he could turn the son against the father.
Franco flushed with triumph. He would have his vengeance. An eye for an eye. A son for a daughter. And he knew just who would help him achieve his justice: Carlo Andretti.
Kate and Enrico arrived at the private airstrip later than intended, but Enrico told her they could make up the time in the air. Soon they were aloft and winging south. A flight attendant brought them drinks and a light breakfast, then left them alone.
Enrico reached over and took her hand, saying nothing. What was he thinking about? Probably trying to figure out what to do about Carlo, now that he wasn’t marrying Delfina.
Did she have any right to raise an objection to such a marriage, when she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay with him? What if she decided to leave? What if he couldn’t arrange something else with Carlo? What if she’d just doomed them both, and all for nothing?
They landed in Naples and took a car to Sorrento, where they shopped and had a late and very leisurely lunch before boarding a private boat for the trip to Capri. The sun was starting to set when they left Sorrento. As they motored away from the coast, Kate looked at the houses clinging to the gold-washed cliffs. She leaned against Enrico while they stood in the back of the boat, and he put his arms around her. Despite all the danger, despite their troubles, Italy was seducing her with its charms. Hadn’t Enrico said that worry was a useless emotion? She sighed. “Italy is amazingly gorgeous.”
He squeezed her tight and nuzzled her neck. “You would not love Naples in the middle of a garbage strike in August.”
She laughed. “I suppose not.” She turned in his arms. “Doesn’t the Mafia control the garbage pickups?”
He nodded. “The Camorra control everything in Naples.”
“Then why do they have strikes?”
“Money. They go on strike, people agree to pay more to end it.”
A thought occurred to her. “Are we in danger here?”
“Not in Capri. The Camorra know the tourists butter their bread. We might be in some danger in Naples. But they would take offence if Carlo tried anything on their territory.”
Kate nestled closer to Enrico as the wind whipped around them. “The idea of us being hurt is taking all the fun out of this trip.”
“Forget Carlo. Forget all of it. Just be with me.” He pulled her into the shelter of his body, squeezing her tight.
“With Antonio and Ruggero around, how can I possibly forget?”
He stepped back and looked at her. “Listen, mia cara. We will take some time for ourselves.”
“Just you and me,” she whispered, her voice husky with promise.
“When we get to the hotel…” he murmured, his voice trailing off, the hunger in his gaze speaking for him.
“When we get to the hotel… what?” she teased.
“You know.” And to make sure she did, he started whispering in her ear all the things he would do as soon as they were alone.
Kate smiled at his imagination. She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him, softly at first, then with heat. Damn it, just like all the New Year’s resolutions she’d ever made, she was going to break the one not to have sex with him, wasn’t she? And she wasn’t going to feel that bad about it either.
As they pulled into the harbor, she looked up at the cliffs of Capri towering above them, encircling the bay. Houses of all sorts perched on those cliffs, nearly every square inch occupied, but somehow plenty of green survived and thrived, giving the island a tropical air.
They left the boat, luggage in hand, and headed for the funicular station. The little tram would take them up to the top, to Capri town proper, where no cars were allowed, not even for rich men like Enrico. Not even here, where money certainly talked, was Enrico any different from anyone else. Except that he was armed. And so were his guards.
Kate sighed, taking his hand as they boarded the funicular. They stood by the window, both holding the same pole as the tram started ascending. She watched greenery and homes pass by, caught the blue-purple of wisteria, the red and pink of bougainvillea, the creams and pastels of the houses, the bright colors starting to fade as twilight descended.
By the time they started walking to their hotel, it was full dark, the narrow winding stone streets romantically lit by the stores and restaurants that lined them. Enrico kept hold of her hand, his strong fingers locked around hers, giving them a light squeeze now and then when she remarked on something that delighted her. She felt a bit like a child with a father for whom none of this was new, except when she looked up at Enrico’s face, she saw delight on his features as well. She was finally able to relax, to believe they were safe. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in the scent of jasmine and freesia. The lingering heat coming off the stone streets and buildings kept the air warm, and the humidity of the climate raised a sheen of perspiration on her skin, making her palm go damp in Enrico’s hand.
He motioned with his chin to a large whitewashed building before them. “We are almost there.”
Kate picked out the words “Grand Hotel Quisisana” set in gold letters on the building’s face. Grand it certainly was. The naughty nothings Enrico had whispered to her on the boat echoed in her ears, and she quickened her pace, tugging on his hand, grinning up at him. Antonio jogged ahead of them, while Ruggero stayed behind.
Enrico handled their check-in. Antonio and Ruggero had the rooms flanking theirs. Kate nearly gagged at the cost of taking three ocean-view terrace rooms, then she forced it out of her head. Money was no object here. Fun and pleasure were the order of the day—or night, as it were.
She followed the men down the hall to the left of the lobby. A short set of stairs took them to their suites, which were spacious and high ceilinged with large marble baths. Kate barely set her purse down before Enrico shut and locked the door behind them. Then he was scooping her up and dropping her onto the king size bed.
He rolled atop her, his mouth and hands everywhere at once. Kate returned his fire for a few minutes, but when he started to unbutton her blouse, she stopped him. “Wait.”
He looked up from kissing her neck, eyebrows raised. “Wait?”
She bit her lower lip teasingly. If she was going to break her vow, she was going to make it count. “We should have dinner first, maybe go for a walk.”
Laughing, he questioned her. “Are you serious?”
“We just got here. Let’s enjoy it a bit before we start enjoying each other.”
Without a word, he pushed her skirt up and slipped a hand between her legs, his fingers shoving aside the thin fabric of her panties so he could touch her. When he encountered the moisture built up inside her, he said, “You seem to be of two minds about the subject.”
When he starting stroking her, she gasped. Clamping her legs shut on his hand, she trapped it. Then she reached down and pulled his hand away. He wasn’t going to distract her so easily. “Not yet.” She sat up and kissed him. “Waiting will be good. You’ll see.”
Enrico groaned in frustration. He wanted to push harder. If it wasn’t for Vincenzo, he could have. Damn it. He hated being on eggshells with her. He wanted to be more insistent, more demanding, more in control. But that could wait. He didn’t have to have everything now, as much as his body argued otherwise.
He tried once more, giving her his best pleading puppy eyes, which she resisted, shaking her head. “Okay,” he said on an exhale, rolling away from her. “Shall we eat here or go exploring?”
“Exploring.”
He smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.” He was in no mood for the three-hour plus dinner they’d get at the hotel’s restaurant, as exquisite as the food was. He had only one thing on his mind, and he wanted it as soon as possible, Kate’s wanderlust be damned.
She zipped into the bathroom, checking her hair and makeup and straightening her clothes as he waited for her on the bed, mulling over ways to short-circuit her plans. Perhaps a quick bite in a café he knew around the corner? Then a brief stroll around the hotel grounds?
Kate came back with her purse. “I’m ready.”
Another possibility occurred to him. “The hotel has excellent room service.”
“No room service today.” She extended her hand to him. “Come on. The longer you pout, the longer it’s going to be before we’re back here.”
He took her hand, rising with a long-suffering sigh. “True.” He brought her hand up to his lips, brushing her knuckles with his mouth. “It is just that I have been thinking about you all day.”
“Another hour or two won’t hurt.”
“For you, perhaps.”
She skimmed her hand across the crotch of his trousers, making his half-hard cock tingle from her touch. “All good things to those who wait,” she whispered. He chuckled at her audacity. The old Kate was back. Then she turned and tugged on his hand, urging them out of the room.
“Can we leave Antonio and Ruggero here?” she asked as he closed the door.
“Yes, it is safe.” He’d told her a small lie earlier; Capri wasn’t safe because of the Camorra; they didn’t have even a toehold in Capri. Capri was safe because it was Don Battista’s domain. Not even Carlo was rash enough to challenge him.
Enrico thought enviously of the night ahead for his guards. Room service and porn. Then again, he’d be coming back to the real thing. He hoped. He ducked his head in Ruggero’s room and let him know they were going out, then they left the hotel.
As they walked the stone streets hand in hand, Enrico’s head filled with images of him and Kate, what he wanted to do to her, with her. The sounds of it, the sights. The scent of her mingling with the scent of him. The way she’d feel in his arms, underneath him, above him, pressed between him and the walls of their room. He wanted her in all ways, in every way possible. And he wanted her now. Except they weren’t alone.
They wandered for a while, Kate undeterred by Enrico’s suggestions of where to eat. Realizing she wasn’t going to be denied, he eventually gave up. He was just going to have to be good and hope she gave him what he wanted sooner rather than later.
Kate finally settled on a small, crowded café. Enrico slipped the waiter several bills to ensure expedited service. He was watching Kate read the menu, when he felt her hand just above his knee. Madonna, he thought, noting no change in her expression as her hand slid up his leg. It lingered at the juncture of his thighs, but her fingers didn’t move. When he placed his hand over hers, she withdrew. Ah, so it was her way, or no way. Two could play that game.
He ordered a Caprese salad to start, eating it with his fingers when it arrived. He popped a mozzarella and basil covered tomato in his mouth, licking the sweet balsamic vinegar and olive oil off his fingers and thumb as he looked at Kate.
She smiled. “Trying to seduce me, are you?”
He said nothing and wiped a dot of oil from his chin with his index finger, then sucked the oil from his skin. He ran a thumb across his lower lip, then picked up another tomato, offering it to her. “You must try this.”
She leaned forward and opened her mouth, accepting what he offered. Chewing slowly, she held his gaze, watching as he licked his fingers again. He reached out and wiped up a little vinegar from the corner of her mouth, then used his tongue to clean his finger. “Delicious, no?” he asked.
She nodded and watched him pick up another tomato, a smile playing with her lips. He was sure he had her thinking about what else his tongue could do.
Leaning forward, she placed her hand on his thigh again, but didn’t move it. Shifting her weight slightly and giving his quad a squeeze, she brought her lips to his ear. “What if we didn’t go back to the room?”
His cock twitched at the suggestion. “Do you have somewhere else in mind?”
“I’m sure we can find some quiet, secluded nook somewhere.” Her hand slid higher. Almost, but not quite there.
Enrico felt a sheen of sweat building on his forehead and upper lip. This was definitely more fun than staying in the room. Definitely.
They finished their meal in rapid order, Enrico hardly remembering a word they exchanged. His whole focus was on her. On Kate’s hand on his thigh, on the way her other hand occasionally toyed with the neck of her blouse or ran along the base of her throat. Or twisted the damp hair off the back of her neck. Dio, how he wanted to kiss her in all the places she touched. How he wanted her hand on his leg to move higher. But waiting had its benefits. He could see that now.
He paid the bill and took her hand, starting toward the darker end of the street, where it turned off into a residential area. Once they were in the shadows, he pressed her up against a wall, kissing her hard and deep, grinding his hips into her. She let out a moan and he smiled against her lips. “Who is eager now?” he teased.
She nipped at his lower lip playfully, then pushed him away and took off running, rounding a corner that led down to the beach. He loped after her, smiling when he heard her laughter, feeling both the urgency of sex and the excitement of being free and on his own in the dark. When was the last time he’d been like this? Years and years. Always it had been one worry after another. He hadn’t taken a real vacation in far too long.
Kate dashed down a lane lined with trees, then popped through a gate that opened onto the beach. Enrico followed her, his shoes slipping in the sand. When she stopped to remove her sandals, he caught up to her. Wrapping her in his arms, he hoisted her off the ground and twirled her around as she shrieked with laughter.
Setting her down, Enrico smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed her, his tongue slipping into her mouth. When she sucked on it, he felt the sensation all over his body.
After they parted, both breathing fast, she said, “Let’s find someplace.”
He took her hand and headed for a thicket of trees. When they reached the low stone wall edging the beach, he helped her over it, then braced his arms on top and swung his legs over. “Not bad for an old man,” she teased him.
“Old man,” he growled, kissing her with force, cupping her buttocks in his hands and pressing her against his erection. “Does that feel like an old man?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He took her hand again, tugging her up the hill, into the trees. Grass grew thick and long there, brushing against their legs.
Kate looked around and apparently decided it was secluded enough. “Here,” she said, stopping and putting both her hands on his chest.
Enrico brought his lips to hers, cradling her face in his hands before sliding them along the sides of her neck. Kate’s fingers wound into his hair as she deepened the kiss. When they parted for a second, Enrico stripped off his shirt and laid it on the grass, then drew Kate down with him. At last, he was where he wanted to be most. Alone with her, in the dark.
Moonlight filtered through the trees as Enrico bent over Kate. He kissed her cheek, then her mouth, then the side of her neck. Between kisses, he murmured, “It has already been too long.” He rolled on top of her, his body almost fully over hers.
The weight of him holding her down and something about the way the moonlight hit his face reminded Kate of Vince, of her nightmares. Of the attack. Fear ripped through her, making her shiver from a chill only she could feel. She shoved Enrico hard in a panic, and he quickly let her up. She sat up, panting for breath. Damn it!
Her eyes blurred, and she swiped at the tears leaking from them. “God, when am I going to be normal again?”
“Shh.” He stroked the side of her face. “Per favore, do not cry, cara.”
“I don’t know what else to do.” She looked at him. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Much has happened these last few days. Too much,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “Maybe this—you and me—maybe it is moving too fast.”
Kate lay back beside him, staring up at the stars through the branches. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He was silent for a while, then he said, “Only recently have I stopped wishing I was dead.”
She snapped her head toward him. “What?”
“Ever since Toni died, I have wished I did not have to go on without her.” He put his arms behind his head, then he cleared his throat. “After she was gone, I carried on conversations with her all the time in my head. Sometimes all day.”
The tightness in his voice moved her. Kate rolled over and placed a hand on his chest. “I can’t decide if that’s sad or romantic.”
“I prefer to think of it as romantic.” His words hung in the air for a moment, then he said, “I still love her, Kate. But I feel it fading the more time I spend with you.”
She smiled. “Put a little pressure on me, why don’t you.”
“I do not mean to. Not exactly. I have felt like an impostor for a long time. I smiled and nodded in the right places, and I laughed when someone made a joke, but I was just pretending. With you, I feel alive again.”
Her hand flexed against his chest. “You do?”
“Ever since I met you, I have hardly been able to think of anything but you. Having you. Making you mine.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “You have become my obsession.”
“Now you’re scaring me,” she said, but kept her tone light.
“You should be scared,” he joked. “I do not like to be denied anything I want.”
“I’m sure that rarely happens.”
He rolled up onto his side to look at her. “Somehow, you manage to deny me all the time.”
“Only because you’re under my thumb.” She smiled and stroked his cheek.
Grabbing her hand, he planted a kiss on the palm. “Indeed, I am your slave.”
She bit her lower lip. “That conjures up so many interesting possibilities.”
He looked at her, her hand still upturned in his, his lips hovering over her skin. When he spoke, his breath tickled her palm. “Would one of those possibilities involve any sex?” he asked. He pressed his lips to her palm again, then his tongue followed the path of her lifeline.
Tingles traveled along her skin in the wake of his tongue. “You have been such a good slave, I suppose a little sex won’t spoil you.”
He kissed the inside of her wrist, the touches fleeting as his mouth moved up her arm. “I live to serve,” he murmured, reaching her neck and the sensitive skin there. He parted her blouse, kissing along the hollow of her throat, then his lips moved down between her breasts. He made short work of the bra’s front clasp, his hands and mouth seeking her nipples greedily. Kate lay back beneath him, winding her fingers in his thick hair, a bit amazed they were actually doing this. Somehow he’d managed to cope with her and change her mood for the better. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed this connection between them.
One of his hands slipped down between them, pushing her skirt up to her waist, his fingers smoothing up her thighs, and Kate felt her anticipation rising as his hand drew near her sex. But he veered away from it, instead letting his fingers play along the outside of her hip, squeezing the flesh there.
Kate shifted restlessly beneath him, parting her legs slightly, though he didn’t take the hint. Instead he slid his palm across her belly in slow circles, just feeling her skin. His eyes followed the progress of his hand, and she studied him, surprised at how mesmerized he was by what he was doing.
“You really like touching me, don’t you?”
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Of course I do. You are so soft. So lovely.”
She smiled and pulled him into a kiss. “My slave gives the best compliments,” she said when they parted.
“So what would my mistress like?” His index finger circled her belly button.
“Anything.”
“That is such a broad category.” His hand stilled, lying flat and warm against her belly. “Tell me. Fingers or tongue?”
She turned her smile wicked. “Why stop at one?”
He laughed, soft and low, a sudden exhale at her neck that made her shiver. “Why indeed.” He bent his head, mouthing the tips of her breasts again, then slowly kissed down her belly, lingering just below her navel, his breath hot on her flesh.
With the slowest of movements, he peeled her panties to just above the triangle of her sex, planting little kisses across her belly until she twisted her hips and let out a moan of frustration. She felt him smile against her skin. “This is for making me wait so long,” he said.
“I knew I’d pay for it somehow. But it is better this way, isn’t it?”
He nodded and finished taking her panties off. “Definitely.” Parting her legs, he kissed the insides of her thighs, then blew on her curls, making her shiver. He ran a finger down the center of her pussy, finally slipping it between the lips. His finger went in easily; she was soaking wet.
Kate moaned when he pressed a second finger inside her. As he slid them in and out, he lowered his mouth to her, his tongue finding her clit and working around it in slow circles, a merciless tease.
She closed her eyes and heard the tide coming in, waves crashing against the beach in rapid succession, her own breathing the only sound she could hear above it. Clutching his hair, she raised her hips to meet his mouth, his wonderful, teasing, taunting mouth.
He brought her close to the peak several times, then backed off each time, making her groan with frustration. “Why are you torturing me?” she finally asked in a ragged voice.
He smiled up at her, then placed a hand below her breasts and urged her to lie back as he continued to skirt around her fulfillment.
At last he took her all the way. Her face flushed hot and she came in a belly-clenching, thigh-shaking rush, letting loose a cry that surprised her in its rawness.
Moving up her body, he caught her lips with his. “I want you, Kate,” he whispered, his voice husky. “I want you so much.”
“I want you too.” She held his jaw and delivered a kiss fierce with her hunger. She felt him fumbling with his belt and unzipping his trousers. She let go of his face and dragged his trousers down, her hands seeking his hips to pull him over her. But he surprised her, grabbing her around the waist and flipping onto his back so that she straddled him. She placed her hands on his chest and leaned forward. Both of them moaned as she slowly lowered herself onto him.
She rocked over him, enjoying the freedom of the position. How had he known what she’d needed, when she hadn’t? Moonlight striped his face as she looked down at him, but he didn’t look like Vince now. He was so beautiful. Inside and out. Not perfect, not at all. But wonderful, nevertheless. Maybe she even….
She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t be in love with him. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake again, she wasn’t going to allow herself to be swept away by a man she barely knew. Especially not by a man who was hiding something, a man who still loved someone else. A man who wasn’t truly available, who could never be hers.
All he could give her was this, this ecstasy, this monumental pleasure. This bliss. And that was all she was going to take from him before she left.