The Italian's Revenge

Oh, the evils involved in feeling no trust, she mused grimly one afternoon while she was standing beneath the shower attempting to cool herself, because Naples had been hit by the kind of heatwave that even the air-conditioning system was struggling to cope with.

But it wasn’t just the heatwave that had forced her into taking her second shower of the day. The real culprit for that was Vito. He had left her hungry, and hungry she had stayed. So much so that even standing here like this, with a cold jet of water pouring all over her, she couldn’t stop her body from responding to the knowledge that he was coming home today. Her breasts were tingling, their sensitive tips tightly peaked, and a permanent throb had taken up residence deep down in her abdomen. And if she kept her eyes closed she could even imagine him stripping off his clothes to come and join her here.

So when a naked, very male body slid in behind her she thought for a moment that she was fantasising his presence.

‘Vito!’ she gasped, almost slipping on the wet tiles in shocked consternation. His arms wound around her, to hold her steady. ‘You frightened the life out of me!’ she protested.

‘My apologies,’ he murmured. ‘But hearing you in here was an irresistible temptation.’

‘I thought you weren’t due back until this evening,’ she said, trying desperately to steady her racing heartbeat.

‘I caught an earlier flight.’ He was already bending his dark head so that he could press his open mouth to the side of her throat. ‘Mmm, you taste delicious.’

And you feel delicious, Catherine silently countered.

‘The water is a bit cold, though,’ he complained, reaching over her shoulder to alter the temperature gauge slightly. ‘What are you trying to do—freeze yourself?’

‘It’s so hot,’ she murmured in idiot-like explanation. But the blush that suffused her skin told its own wretched story.

He knew it too. ‘Ah,’ he drawled. ‘Missed me, hmm?’

‘I have hardly given you a second thought,’ she lied.

‘Well, I missed you,’ he murmured as he turned her round to face him. ‘And please do note that I am not too proud to admit it.’

‘Only because you want something,’ she mocked.

But he just laughed softly, then proceeded to show her exactly what he wanted. And as she wound her long legs around his body, while Vito loved her into ecstasy, she let herself smile. Because a man couldn’t be this hungry if he had spent the whole week doing this with someone else, could he?

Because even though it was her mouth that was gasping out its little sounds of pleasure, she wasn’t so mindless with sensation that she wasn’t aware that Vito was trembling, that despite the rhythmic power of his thrusts he was struggling to hang onto control here.

‘Kiss me,’ she groaned, as if in agony. ‘I need you to kiss me!’

On a growl, he did so, felt her begin to quicken as his mouth fused with her mouth and sent her spinning into orgasm, and almost instantly joined her, their mutual gasps mingling with the sound of the shower spray.

Afterwards he carried her out of the shower before letting her stand on her own shaky legs again. She leaned weakly against him while he set about drying her, her mouth laying lazy kisses across his hair-roughened chest while her arms rested limply against his lean hipline.

They didn’t speak. It didn’t seem necessary—or maybe they were both too aware that words tended to ruin everything. So when he made her stand up properly, so he could dry her front, Catherine stood staring wistfully up at his beautiful face and wished she could dare love him again.

Wished it with all she had in her to wish.

‘Keep looking at me like that...’ his smile was rueful ‘...and you will be spending the rest of the day in the bedroom.’

‘Santo is spending the day with his friend Paolo,’ she murmured.

A sleek eyebrow arched. ‘Is that your way of telling me that you don’t mind spending the day in the bedroom with me?’ he asked.

‘Got any better ideas?’ she softly queried.

* * *

It was Luisa who asked about Marietta over dinner that night.

‘She remained in Paris,’ Vito replied. ‘But she will be back in time for your birthday party next week.’

No Marietta for another whole week. Catherine’s mood suddenly felt positively buoyant. And remained like that throughout the next few days as their life returned to the same routine it had developed before Vito had taken Marietta to Paris. He spent his mornings in his study and his afternoons with his wife and son while his mother became deeply involved

in the preparations for her party at the weekend.