The Temporary Mrs. Marchetti

Alice licked her tongue over his lower lip, leaning into the hard warmth of his body. ‘Better.’

Way, way better.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CRISTIANO WOKE NOT long before dawn to find Alice nestled up against his chest soundly asleep. Her hair was tickling his chin but he didn’t have the heart to disturb her. Or maybe it was more because lying here with her was like time travelling back to a time in his life when he’d felt he had ticked all the boxes. Felt complete and satisfied in a way he hadn’t since. One of her hands was resting against his chest, right over his heart. Her silken legs were entwined with his in an intimate linkage that made his blood stir.

Would this hunger for her ever be satisfied? How many times had they made love last night? He had been like a randy teenager. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Was it a case of making up for lost time or...something else?

He didn’t want to think about the something else.

He wasn’t sure why he’d told Alice about his reluctance to sleep with anyone else here since her. Why should he care if she thought he’d bedded anything in a skirt for the last seven years? But somehow what they’d shared under this roof had meant something to him even if it hadn’t to her. He hadn’t wanted to dilute those memories with a host of other bodies, other faces, other smiles, and other perfumes. Or maybe it was a form of self-flagellation. A perpetual punishment for being so foolish to believe she had been The One.

No. He was fine with things as they were. What could be better than to make the most of their ‘forced’ time together? Wasn’t that what he’d wanted? A chance to get her out of his system so he could finally move on with his life?

It was a good plan.

An excellent plan.

Why had his nonna orchestrated it other than to force him to revisit his relationship with Alice? His grandmother knew his life hadn’t been the same since Alice left. She knew he hadn’t moved on. Not properly. But to leave half of the Stresa villa to her seemed a bit of an extreme measure. Not that he’d let on to Alice how much the place meant to him. He’d let her think the company shares were his focus. The lakeside villa—like this one in Milan—had been in the Marchetti family for a hundred and fifty years. To lose one pebble, let alone half of the property, to someone outside the family was unthinkable. Even if it was to Alice, with whom he’d had the most passionate affair of his life.

There was nothing to stop her selling her share out from under him when their marriage ended. There was no guarantee she would give him first option. She might not even want to sell her share, which would mean he would have to sell his, or deal with having to share the villa with her on an ongoing basis. He could think of nothing worse than having to negotiate times to visit so he didn’t run into her new lover or house-party guests. His family home reduced to a time-share property? Unbearable.

Alice’s breathing was soft and even, but every now and again she would release a little purring sigh of contentment and nestle even closer. How many times had he watched her like this in the past? Dreaming of their future together, the life they would live, the children they would have, the happiness they would create together to make up for the tragedy he’d experienced.

He had her back in his bed, but would it be enough?

It would have to be because there was no way he was going to offer her anything else. His days of wearing his heart on his sleeve—or anywhere on his person, for that matter—were well and truly over. His heart was in lockdown. In solitary confinement. No walks in the exercise yard. No day release. No bail. No parole.

This thing between him an

d Alice was about lust now, not love. A lust that would burn brightly for a while and then gradually fade away just like every other relationship he’d had.

Except with her.

Cristiano sidestepped the thought. He would not allow himself to think like that. This was for now, not for ever. He wasn’t a ‘for ever’ guy now.

He was a ‘for the moment’ man.

Alice opened her eyes and blinked up at him like a baby owl. ‘Is it time to get up?’

Cristiano was already ‘up’. His body had been up ten minutes ago when her legs had wrapped around his and her hand had slipped to his abdomen. ‘Not yet.’ He brushed back her tousled hair. ‘There’s no hurry.’

She gave him a naughty-girl smile when her hand slid lower and found him fully erect. ‘No hurry, huh?’

Cristiano sucked in a breath when her hand started working its wicked magic. She licked her lips and slithered down his body, breathing her sweet hot breath over his abdomen and groin. No one but Alice could reduce him to this—to a quaking wreck of a man without the strength of will to stop her. He barely had time to source a condom before she took him to the stratosphere.

He sank back against the pillows to regain his breath, his arm drawing her close to his side. ‘Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be right with you.’

He felt her smile against his chest where her cheek was resting. Her fingers did a piano-playing exercise on his right pectoral muscle. ‘Is sex this good with your other partners?’ she asked after a moment.

Cristiano had already revealed a little too much in that department. No point giving her more ammunition. ‘Fishing, cara?’

She made a pouting gesture and went to move away but he held her still. He turned so she was trapped beneath him. She refused to meet his gaze so he inched up her chin so she had no choice. Her blue eyes glittered with resentment but behind that he could see doubt and insecurity moving like shadows. ‘I’m not a kiss-and-tell man,’ he said. ‘I consider it disrespectful.’

Her lashes came down to half-mast over her eyes. After a long moment she released a serrated-sounding breath. ‘The last time I had sex I came home and showered for an hour.’

Cristiano’s gut clenched as if a steel-studded fist had grabbed his intestines. ‘You weren’t...?’ He couldn’t even say the ugly word.