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Her mouth dropped open as Massimo reached into the pocket of his trunks and pulled out what appeared to be nothing more than three tiny triangles of bright orange fabric.
She stared at it in horror. ?
??What is that?’
‘It’s a micro-bikini,’ he said helpfully. ‘Tommaso’s girlfriend has one just like it. Only hers is pink.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Bet you wish you had some trunks like mine now!’
She stuck her tongue out at him and, laughing, he dropped lightly onto the bed beside her and pulled her willing body against him.
Her pulse flickered. Even in those ridiculous shorts he looked utterly gorgeous, and his lean, tanned torso pressed snugly against her skin felt just as good as it looked.
Looking up, her heart gave a jolt as she met his gaze. His eyes were so blue that looking into them made her feel as though she were slipping beneath the sea. Instantly, her skin began to tingle.
‘We could share,’ she said huskily; her fingers were itching to touch him so badly she could hardly speak. ‘Maybe.’ He rubbed his face against hers, the bristles from his beard grazing her cheeks. ‘It depends. What will you give me in return?’
Staring down at her, he felt a happiness he’d forgotten existed—sweet and cold and sharp like a shot of limoncello. She was so incredibly sexy. He loved how responsive she was to his touch. Sex with her was like no sex he’d ever had. His heartbeat slowed. But it wasn’t just the sex. He liked her. She intrigued him; she made him laugh, and she teased him constantly, and yet this afternoon she’d managed to draw some of the pain from his heart.
Her hand slid over his stomach, her fingers tracing the line of dark hair disappearing beneath his shorts, and he pushed his thoughts away.
‘What do you want?’ she whispered.
In reply, he gave her a slow, sweet smile and began to tug deftly at the buttons of her shirt.
Somewhere across the room, his phone rang. His fingers faltered, and he glanced over his shoulder, feeling his stomach muscles knot together. It was his own fault. He should never have switched his phone back on. But either way he wasn’t going to answer it.
He shrugged. ‘It’s fine. They can wait. If it’s important they’ll ring back.’
Flora nodded. He was probably right. But something in his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
The phone was still ringing and, unable to stop herself, she said quickly, ‘Why don’t you answer it? I don’t mind—’
‘But I do,’ he said flatly.
He could feel it starting to rise up inside him. That same dark misery he’d felt as a child. Except he wasn’t a child any more, and he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone.
Frowning, he shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just—’ The phone stopped and he breathed out sharply. ‘It won’t be important.’
She wanted to ask him how he knew, but deliberately he reached out, curving his hand under her chin. Lowering his face, he kissed her hungrily. This was what he wanted, he thought urgently. This was all he needed to make the rest of the world vanish. Just him and Flora. Untouchable. Perfect. Like a scene in a snow globe.
Except—except that he would never need anyone. Need was just another word for hurt. He’d needed his father and his father had betrayed him. He would never forgive nor forget that pain. But he knew a way to blot it out—
Flora gave a soft moan as he kissed her again, parting her lips roughly. She gave herself up to the shivering heat creeping over her skin and then her breath jolted in her throat as he jerked her closer. Some part of her brain registered that there was tension, almost anger in his gesture, but she pushed the thought away for his lips were soft and sure on hers, his fingers surer still as they slid under her shirt, seeking the hard peaks of her nipples—
The phone rang again and she felt him flinch. At the same moment he broke away from her, cursing angrily under his breath.
She stared at him unsteadily. His skin was stretched taut across his cheekbones, his anger radiating to every corner of the room. She knew his fury and frustration weren’t directed at her, but somehow that didn’t make her feel much better. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and touched him lightly on the arm. ‘What is it?’
He didn’t look at her, just shook his head. ‘Nothing!’
The phone kept ringing and, running his fingers distractedly through his hair, he shook off her hand and stood up abruptly. It was intolerable. It was harassment.
‘I’m not doing this—’
Flora gaped at him. Doing what? Was he talking to her? Or about the phone call?
She watched in silence as he strode across the room and snatched up the phone. Yanking open the door, he disappeared into the corridor and a moment later she heard his voice.
Crouching on the bed, she felt her stomach turn over with misery.
