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Tired though she was, Flora didn’t think she’d ever been happier. Yes, they’d quarrelled, and it had been difficult and upsetting, but for the first time sex hadn’t been their ‘go-to’ to blot out the pain of the past or resolve the tension between them. Instead, they had talked and faced Massimo’s demons together.
No longer two people just having sex. But equals coming together, side by side, to take on the world.
Walking up the stairs to his bedroom, Massimo kissed her with a tenderness and soft warmth that seemed to Flora to complement perfectly the golden glow of the dawn and their new mood of openness.
His eyes steady on hers, he touched her face almost reverently, his thumb brushing lightly over the smooth skin of her cheeks. And then, coaxing her lips apart with his tongue, his breath quick and warm against her mouth, he kissed her. It was a kiss she would remember all her life. A kiss that tasted of hope and dappled sunlight and everything crisp and green and new.
The sex felt different too, the incredible, raw physical attraction they felt for one another deepening into something more intimate, something bred from trust and openness. Riding a wave of sensation and arousal, they made love slowly, letting the memories of the past slip away in each other’s arms, leaving only pleasure and longing behind. It felt like the most glorious dream... Time ceased to matter...sharp edges blurred into spinning circles of colour and light...
She didn’t remember falling asleep.
But waking beside him, his body curved around hers, she knew that it hadn’t been a dream. It was real. He’d even suggested that she return to Rome with him for a couple of days so he could show her the sights properly.
Wriggling down into the warmth of the bed, she felt a rush of happiness. Beside her, he shifted in his sleep and, looking over at him, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Sleeping, he looked younger, more defenceless—and she shivered, remembering everything he’d told her last night.
Even now the facts of his childhood horrified her, for she knew now how much it had damaged the adult Massimo. She knew too how much it must have cost him to reveal the truth to her. To trust her with his pain. A tiny hope sparked inside her. But he had trusted her and needed her. Needed her for more than just sexual gratification.
That had to mean something, didn’t it?
She breathed out softly. Last night he had let her in; he’d shown her the ‘real’ Massimo. Not the über-cool, autocratic billionaire businessman, polished and harder than a diamond, but the man beneath the image.
The man she loved.
Her heart contracted and suddenly she wanted to leap out of bed and cartwheel around the room.
Was this how love felt?
Was this really what she’d been hiding from all these years?
She stared up at the ceiling, feeling reckless and wild and alive. If she’d been an artist, like Umberto, she would have tried to paint her emotions. Just to see what they looked like. But instead she lay on her side and watched the sunlight and shadows play slowly across Massimo’s face.
She loved him.
Frowning, she closed her eyes, shaken by how obvious it was to her now that what she’d been feeling for him was love.
It hardly seemed possible.
For so long she had pushed away all thoughts of ever giving her heart to anyone. She’d had boyfriends, but nothing that serious or permanent. In fact, in the past few years, she’d probably been closest to Umberto, and she hadn’t even been romantically involved with him. Not that she had minded. She’d been content to watch others fall in love; she’d never wanted more.
Until now.
Until Massimo.
She breathed out slowly. When her mum had died it had been as if a fuse had blown inside her head. Alone and confused in the dark, she’d started to fear what lay outside. But Massimo had changed everything. He had brought light and hope into the darkness.
And she knew now that she’d rather feel everything with him—happiness and despair—than nothing on her own. He was worth the risk.
But would he feel the same way?
Feeling suddenly impossibly restless, she slid out of bed quietly, so as not to wake him, tugged on a pair of denim shorts and a T-shirt and tiptoed towards the door. It was too difficult to lie beside him, hoping that he might wake up feeling what she was feeling. Particularly when she’d barely come to terms with those feelings herself.
In the kitchen, she paced nervously around the table, trying to order her thoughts. They barely knew one another, and up until a few hours ago their relationship had been based almost entirely on sex. It would be foolish, not to say disastrous, for her to imagine that was a good foundation for a future together.
But what was happening inside her head and her heart had nothing to do with sex. It was love.
Why else would she no longer want to fight with him—but for him? And why else would she finally be ready to pull down the emotional barriers she’d built to protect herself from the pain of caring?
In the past, she had been so scared of getting hurt, it had been easy to corral her emotions, to keep her distance. But being with Massimo had made her want to get closer. He’d quelled her fears, unlocked her life and given her the chance to dream again.
