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“It’s a tiny bag,” he pointed out.
“I meant…for everything. I had a really great time last night, and today. I don’t remember the last time I’ve done something like that. Actually, I’veneverdone anything like it. I…thank you.”
Her admission, her gratitude, they were so sweet, it was impossible not to feel a kick of something in his gut. He tightened his grip on the wheel then stepped out of the car. “It was my pleasure,” he murmured, through his still-open door, before closing it quietly and moving to the boot to remove their luggage. Two small bags, it took him no time at all. He carried them over one shoulder, making a point of not turning to look back at the car, and more so, at Charlotte. He didn’t need to turn to look, she was burned into his mind’s eye.
“Start again,”she murmured, looking into Dash’s distressed little face. “Tell me the problem slowly.”
“Mrs Roobottom broke her arm and she’s the only person who knows all the songs—we’ve been practicing with her for months and now they’re talking about cancelling the concert. It’s bloody annoying, Charlie. Bloody bad luck.”
“Dash,” she murmured, stroking his head, making only the smallest effort to chide him for his repeated use of a word she considered too grown up for him. “There must be someone else.”
“Esteban is away, and he’s the only other teacher who can play the piano. They’re trying to find someone, but the concert is in two nights. How could anyone learn the songs in time?”
It was impossible for Charlotte not to think immediately of Alessio, and the beautiful, soulful way he’d played the Christmas song for her in his apartment. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she crouched down to Dash’s eye height. “I think I might know someone who can help.” She crossed her fingers hopefully behind her back.
Dash’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Really.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Someone I could ask, at least. I’m not sure he’ll agree, or that he’ll be able to, but he is a very good pianist, and he’s in town.”
Dash’s face relaxed, a smile shifting his features.
“Why don’t you get me a list of the songs you’re performing, and I’ll ask him right away.”
“Oh, Charlie, would you really?”
“Of course!”
An hour later,with the song list in hand and the echo of the desperate pleading of the choir captain—who’d confirmed the predicament and likely cancellation of the concert—in her head, Charlotte approached Alessio’s room with a rush of feelings she couldn’t comprehend. She was jittery and excited, nervous too, with how much was riding on his acquiescence.
Most of all, she was excited to see him again, despite the fact they’d only parted ways earlier that afternoon. When he opened the door to his hotel room, her heart dropped to her toes. He’d apparently just showered, going by the towel slung low on his hips and the delectable, bare chest staring back at her.
“Oh, um, hi,” she mumbled, desperately trying to draw her gaze higher, to meet his eyes. “This isn’t a good time.”
He arched a brow, regarding her thoughtfully. “Isn’t it?” His voice, a husky growl, was an unspoken invitation. She desperately wanted to accept, but she had to work, and Dash was waiting on her answer. As was the choir captain and the whole school now.
“I have a favour to ask you,” she blurted out straight away, her features showing pleading.
“Fascinating.” His eyes roamed her face. “What do you need?”
The answer to that was easy. She needed Alessio. Now. All of him. Alone, in his room, for another night, and a night after that. She needed him to stay in town, so she could get to know him properly, to enjoy more of whatever they were doing, until it ran its course, and they were both ready to walk away. But that answer ran totally contrary to what they’d agreed, so Charlotte kept her lips tightly sealed as she tried to make her brain focus.
“Charlotte? Would you like to come in while you frame your question?”
She stared into his eyes and had the strangest feeling she was drowning.
“Perhaps it’s the kind of favour that’s better indulged in private anyway,” he murmured, reaching out and grabbing her on the hip, drawing her towards him, so their bodies collided and all the air left Charlotte’s lungs in one fierce rush. Desire was a pit of fire, licking the soles of her feet.
He kicked the door closed behind her then stepped forward, backing her against the ancient timber, his mouth finding hers and kissing her as though they’d been separated for days, not hours. She expelled her breath softly, the relief so strong, so fierce, that for a moment, she forgot absolutely everything except this. She wanted only Alessio.
His towel loosened. Not of its own accord, but because her fingers were pushing at the terry material, searching, seeking, touching hungrily and with every expectation of possession, touching him as though she had every right, as though they were designed for this.
She’d come here with a very specific purpose in mind but high on being in his hotel room, on being alone with him again so soon, when she’d thought it might be a whole night, at least, before they could see each other again, what could she do but surrender to him, to this pleasure, to the hungry, insatiable beast of need that had them both in its thrall?
They walked in unison, bodies melded, lips locked, the few feet to the double bed, and fell onto it, a tangle of limbs as Charlotte’s clothes were removed from her body and then they were naked, writhing together, seeking, needing, kissing, exploring and finally, he was pushing into her, so huge that he took her breath away and it took her body a moment to remember what it felt like to be so full, so completely possessed by a man, but then he was moving and she was crying out as pleasure saturated her body, his mastery of her so skilful and absolute that she could only feel—the sensations were overpowering but she was prepared to be overpowered.
The way he made her feel was beyond compare. She arched her back and whimpered as her soul seemed to shatter apart and beam with light. Her breathing was rushed, her voice high pitched, his name in her mouth some kind of nirvana, and all she could think—the only thought that was capable of flooding her mind—was how much she loved this. Every single part of it. Being with him, being made love to by him, kissing him, every single part, filled her body with hope and happiness and made her feel alive, really alive, for the first time in years.
She loved this. She loved…everything about him.
