The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty

‘You stopped,’ he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. She hadn’t realised her hand had stopped its exploration until he enfolded it with his own.

All memories dissolved as he pulled her down for a kiss, breathing in heavily.

Returning it, she closed her eyes and allowed him to guide her hand down to the thick mass of hair on his groin and the erection that had sprung from it.

Tentatively she encircled it, heat surging through her as she felt its silky weight and length, felt it throb beneath her touch. When she rubbed her thumb over the tip she discovered the bead of moisture already there and felt a thrill like no other that this was for her. Even if it was only for now.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WINTER SUN SHONE brilliantly through a gap in the heavy drapes right in Cara’s eyes, waking her. She turned her head. Pepe had gone.

On legs that felt weighted, she climbed out of bed and padded over to the window, pulling the drapes open.

The room smelt of a familiar scent that she recognised from four months earlier. Sex. Their sex.

Air. That was what she needed. And plenty of it.

Firstly wrapping herself in the kimono, she unlocked the French door and stepped out onto the small balcony overlooking a large park.

The cold air hit her and she accepted it into her lungs, willing the frigid particles to douse her shame.

It did nothing of the sort.

She knew she didn’t deserve to have her shame extinguished.

After everything she had been through and all the promises she had made her unborn child, she was no better than her mother.

Every time one of her father’s affairs had come to light, which was a regular occurrence, her mother would vow to leave. Every time she changed her mind, too hooked on the highs and lows of her marriage to care about anything as basic as self-respect. Certainly too hooked to care about the effect it was having on her only child.

Her mother had been an addict. Her husband had been her fix. Not even his litter of illegitimates had made any difference.

And now here Cara was, well over a decade after her parents’ marriage had finally done them all a favour and disintegrated, and she knew that unless she did something right now she would turn into an addict just as her mother had been.

Movement behind her caused her to turn.

Pepe stepped onto the balcony carrying two steaming mugs and wearing only a pair of faded jeans. There was something about seeing his feet bare that tugged at her in a manner that was entirely different from the effect his bare torso had on her.

‘Good morning, cucciola mia,’ he said with a lazy grin, handing her one of the mugs. Placing his own mug on the small table, he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her neck.

‘Please, don’t,’ she murmured, shaking her head. ‘One accident with scalding tea is enough for anyone in a lifetime.’

He chuckled. ‘In that case, drink up and we can go back to bed.’

She took a deep breath, planning to confess that she didn’t want to go back to bed. Or, rather, that she did want to go back to bed with him. But she wanted it too much. That was the problem. She wanted it far too much.

Before she could speak he pressed a kiss into the small of her back then stood beside her at the balustrade.

‘I owe you an apology,’ he said, his light tone becoming serious. ‘I’d forgotten how shy you are around strangers. I shouldn’t have left you alone with anyone but me last night, not until I knew you were comfortable with them.’

Cara blinked in shock.

An apology was the last thing she’d expected to hear from Pepe’s mouth.

She took a sip of her tea, determinedly looking out to the park, at the distant people walking their dogs, some carrying the morning’s newspapers, life going on blithely regardless of her personal torment.

‘I also should have warned you that a few of my ex-lovers would be there, but to be honest I never gave it a thought,’ he continued. ‘It’s never been an issue. I should have taken into account that you are made from a different mould from them.’

The mention of his ex-lovers pierced like a lance into her skin. She forced herself to breathe, focusing on the park before her, allowing her attention to be captured by a young couple out for a bike ride, a toddler-sized child sitting in a special seat attached to the father’s bike.

Pepe would never be a father in the traditional sense. He was too...free. Meeting his friends and the casual, bohemian intimacy they all shared had only confirmed everything she already knew.

And she, Cara, was of a different mould.

It hurt to admit it, but he was right. She could never be like those women. The scars of her childhood ran too deep. She could never share the man she loved. Just thinking of Pepe sharing intimacies with another woman made her skin go clammy and nausea swell inside her, and she didn’t even love him.