Roman Holiday Page 11

  Caro’s hands gripped the headboard above her and anchored herself to the tension building so quickly, so urgently. Nick held her hips firmly as he used his magic, rocking against her now frantic hip movements, bringing her closer and closer to release.

  And then it was there. Lightning fast, hurricane strength. Falling, dropping, flailing as Nick just kept on stroking her through her trembles, gentler now and easing till he felt her land safely, breaths fast and furious, matching the heartbeat.

  As she struggled to find her brain, he kicked off his boxers, reached for the foil packet and swiftly sheathed himself.

  “Are you okay?” He spoke low and soft, tender.

  “Hah!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Spreading her legs wide, he slid deep inside her, groaning as their hips met, collided, circled. “Jesus, that feels so fucking good.”

  He circled his hips against hers again and again, moving in and out, circle, circle, in and out. The rhythm of it was her undoing. This couldn’t be happening. Caro was spent. She was in overdrive and her body was wrecked. But . . . Oh, my. Nick reached up and cupped her face again, his body still moving within hers, and he kissed her, slow and deep, echoing everything that his lower half was doing. Everything. Twin parts, a torso-length apart, making her crazy with need, desire, heat and want.

  Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, urging him deeper and deeper inside. The grind and swirl of his pelvis against hers was firing her up and more tension was filling her blood and shit, she thought she might just explode. She just needed . . .

  “Christ, Caroline, you’re so hot, so fucking tight, I don’t think I can hold on . . . ”

  And there. That was it. She went right over the edge, Nick’s voice growling in her ear as he came with her, shuddering and groaning, collapsing in a sweaty, messy, divine heap on top of her. Oblivion as requested. Bliss.

  Chapter 8

  She stirred.

  Nick looked down at the woman curled into his chest and sighed. She hadn’t had a restful sleep and that bothered him. The sex had been amazing, frantic, exhausting, and he’d fallen into almost unconsciousness for a brief time in sheer release and satisfaction. But when he woke, Caroline slept on. That was a turn up for the books. At least this time she remained in the bed. Granted, it was her bed, but still, he’d take it as a win.

  He’d adjusted their positions to a more comfortable arrangement, so she now had her head snugly on his chest and his arm beneath her was wrapped securely about her body, hand resting – well, stroking – her hip. Her upper leg lay across his, her knee high upon his thigh. He’d have to be careful when she woke, or a sudden unintentional movement could do some damage. He almost chuckled at that idea, but for a guy it was never a funny thought, not even if the protagonist was an armful of sweet, sexy, complicated woman.

  It was early – or late, depending on your perspective – and he had to get back to his own place. It would be nice, stupid word, but it would be, so nice to curl right back into this warm body, maybe tease her awake and start again. Even thinking about the possibilities made him harden beneath the sheets. Her bra had finally come off, as had her ridiculously sexy stockings, but she hadn’t bothered putting on a nightgown and who was he to complain?

  He tenderly traced his fingers along the top curve of her breast, leaving tiny pebbles on her skin as he touched. She sighed and adjusted herself against him. A bit more of that and he was definitely in for round two.

  A single lace curtain moved lazily in the night air against the open bedroom window and moonlight spilled its beams across the crumpled sheet. The quilt was abandoned on the floor, as their hot, steamy bodies needed only a light layer of cotton to keep them warm.

  Nick closed his eyes and rested his head back into the already dented pillow. This was quickly becoming a bit of a mess. This fling or affair, whatever it was, was getting more complicated. They’d agreed to keep things light.

  Sure. Light.

  Not really calling what we just shared light, are you, Nick? he asked himself ruefully. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had great sex before. He had. Of course he had. He liked a healthy, active sex life and made sure he gave as good as he got, so to speak. But Caroline felt different – and therein lay the mess.

  She was only in Rome for another six weeks or so and maybe again for a bit in the new year. He either needed to get a grip and take his head out of the game – his body could stay exactly where it was – back off altogether and end things before they went any further, or . . . Or what? Have an actual relationship with feelings and shit? Look how well that worked out for you, buddy, with the lovely Melanie. No, relationships were obviously not his strong point, so back to the either-or scenario.

  Caroline twisted away from him abruptly, her hands tugging at the sheet, her face crumpling.

  “No, no, no. God, oh God, no.”

  Her voice was low but Nick was horrified at the pain emanating from her.

  “Hey.” Turning, he cupped her face gently with one hand, stroking her hair with the other. “Shh, it’s all right. Wake up, you’re only dreaming. Hush, now.”

  He kept his own voice low and steady, hand movements controlled and even as he lightly rocked her.

  Blue eyes popped open and stared blankly into his. She looked dazed. Lost. And damn, so sad.

  “It’s just a dream. Everything’s okay. You’re okay.”

  He continued his caress against her hair as her eyes adjusted to him, the moonlight, the night. The reality.

  “Shit. Sorry.”

  Caroline struggled from his grasp, hauling the sheet to her chin as she scuttled back against the headboard. Blinking, aware, embarrassed.

  “Hey, honestly, it’s okay. It was just a bad dream,” Nick tried to reassure her as he reached down beside the bed to put on a lamp.

  “No,” Caroline interrupted, “please, leave it dark.”

  “Sure.”

  Nick’s reply was easy as he swung from the bed and gathered some clothing. Dressed in his boxers and with a “Back in a sec,” he walked down the hall to the kitchen and rummaged in her fridge. A few moments later he returned to the bedroom and handed Caroline a glass of wine.

  “I don’t think—” she began, but he cut in.

  “Drink it. Please. You need a shot of alcohol and I don’t know my way around your kitchen, or if you even have any hard liquor. So this will have to do.” He tilted his own glass to hers, lightening the atmosphere with a smile. “Cheers! And here’s to dreams and their uncanny ability to scare the shit out of us sometimes.”

  They both drank and Caroline narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her glass. “What did I say? Was I coherent?”

  Nick settled on the edge of the bed, casually leaning back on one elbow.

  “Well, there was a lot of ‘oh, Gods’ in there and if they’d been accompanied by a few yeses instead of nos, I’d happily have believed you were replaying last night. Before you fell asleep.”

  A delicate pink flushed her cheeks and she groaned.

  “I’m teasing. But you look pretty cute when you’re mortified, I have to say,” he grinned.

  She tossed the pillow at him, narrowly missing his wine.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  Caroline looked away from his gaze, uncomfortable.

  “No, not really. Thanks, though,” she mumbled.

  “I’m a good listener, or so my sister says,” Nick prodded persuasively.

  “You have a sister?”

  He could see Caroline was delighted to change the topic and he mentally kicked himself.

  “Yes, but neither here nor there. Dream? Spill the beans.”

  “It’s just been a rough couple of days,” Caroline began, “and I had some bad . . . no . . . ” she corrected herself. “Some shocking news, which completely threw me. Out of left field, in fact.”

  Her shoulders sagged and he could see the deadening in her eyes. The light that had been there the previous
night, at the lecture hall, the gallery, in the taxi and here in her bed, it was gone.

  “You should have told me yesterday when I met you at the lecture. I could have cancelled the gallery visit and we could have talked. Or not. I’d have understood.”

  Nick was surprised to find himself irritated that she’d kept her feelings so successfully from him. He’d had no idea she’d received distressing news. None. Maybe he wasn’t as astute as he thought.

  “No. My work, the gallery visit, you . . . ” She blushed again. “This was exactly what I needed. I couldn’t let my news get to me. And I’ve become pretty good over the years at compartmentalising my life when I have to and yesterday, I had to. I can’t afford for my private life to interfere with my work here – my lectures and classes – so you, in fact, are a perfect diversion.”

  “A diversion?”

  “Yes, it’s great not to have to think when I’m with you. I don’t have to worry about what I say, what I want, what I need.” In spite of her words, she flushed again. “What I feel.”

  But Nick got the picture.

  She was using him.

  She was basically having sex with him so she wouldn’t have to think. Now, he knew, he absolutely knew that people did that all the time. Shit, he’d done it himself on many an occasion. It was tremendous to allow our bodies to drain away our problems for a short space of time – to use animal lust and satisfaction to ease us through our pain. But now? Caroline had been using him as a buffer while he’d been feeling all connected and, blast it,almost tender towards her. Well, that had to stop. The tender part – the connecting bit. He wasn’t going down that path. It was mindless, uncomplicated sex she wanted. Got it. He almost admired her for it – why shouldn’t her body have the same itch his did?

  And then she heaved a huge sigh, her hands trembling a little as she tipped the glass to her lips. She looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you, Nick. I know we aren’t friends, we’ve only just met, but for some reason you’ve made me feel safe.”

  She chuckled when he raised an eyebrow in exaggerated horror and moaned, “Not what I was going for here.”

  “Well, maybe safe is the wrong word, because truthfully I’ve never felt more daring in my life, but . . . I guess for no reason whatsoever, I trust you.” And she smiled.

  So sweet, he thought. She looked adorable when she smiled and this wasn’t even one of her glorious big, open smiles, just a gentle movement of her lips that indicated her pleasure, and something unfurled in Nick’s chest. His being with her did that. She needed him. And fuck it, regardless of the circumstances, the shortness of her stay in Rome, the hassle in his own life, he was going to keep seeing this lovely, at the moment sad, woman for as long as she let him. She wanted him to make her feel? To take care of her needs? On it.

  Nick stretched forwards, took the glass from Caroline’s hands and placed it on the nightstand. He leaned in and rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, then licked where he’d rubbed. Pulling back a little, he looked directly, steadily, into her eyes until she returned his gaze unwaveringly. Then he cupped either side of her face and without another word, began kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

  As soon as their tongues met, every nerve ending in Nick’s body kicked in and began racing through him. Heat flooded his belly and he was hard in an instant. Throbbing and almost uncomfortable in its intensity. This was going to be fast and furious – and maybe they both needed it like that. Certainly, purposefully, Caroline was running her hands up and down his arms, shoulders, back, scratching and melding, touching and holding. She wriggled on the bed till they were chest to breast, the sheet fallen, left to tangle between them. Her pebbled nipples brushed tantalisingly against his skin, making his heart race and his own nipples harden in response.

  She slipped a hand between them and grabbed hold of his straining erection. She groaned into his mouth, her hand sliding up and down, changing her rhythm with each glide over his heated skin. Christ! it felt good. Twisting, he pulled her down on top of him, mouth still devouring hers. Her breasts flattened against him and he wasn’t sure he’d ever appreciated the female curves as much as he did right now. One of his hands reached out to grab a foil packet next to the pillow.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he growled, “Put it on me.”

  A fast learner, Caroline had it opened and rolling over his length in a matter of seconds. She seemed to take a lot of satisfaction as she did so, judging by her breathless noises. Without waiting for further instructions, she swung her leg over his hips and adjusted herself on top of him. And paused. Just stopped. Her hand took him and she edged him evermore slowly up and down her slick folds, finally settling him at her opening, just so.

  Damn. Damn. Not enough.

  He gripped her waist, unable to wait any longer, and held her steady, poised above him.

  “God, you’re gorgeous,” he growled as her hair swung over her shoulder and she began to lower herself down, inch by fucking inch.

  Nick thought torture could never be this hard. This was exquisite torture. She was hot. Tight. Wet. Squeezing him, clenching with her inner muscles as she moved, slowly swirling her hips to angle herself better.

  “God. Shit. That feels amazing,” Nick grunted.

  She was almost panting, gasping as Nick took over and began to use his own hips to surge upwards, meeting her heat, core to core where they joined, and they groaned together. Then they sped up, her breasts moving with the motion of his thrusts, and when she flung her head back, arching her neck, she looked like a Greek goddess and all he wanted to do was fuck her. Hard.

  He could feel how close she was as her body tightened even more over him, and then she shuddered as she flung herself forwards down onto his chest, gasping out sounds of pleasure and relief. Her change in position threw Nick over the edge, and his release was powerful and fast and damn perfect.

  Nobody likes waking to an early morning alarm and Caro was no exception. The light filtered in though the gauze window coverings and dappled shadows across the wall opposite her bed. A slight breeze made the shadows dance and waver gently, soothingly, and Caro tucked her arms behind her head to watch. Just for a few minutes. Just to gather her thoughts and let her body awaken, adjust and acclimatise.

  Her body.

  Hmm. It had had quite the workout last night and was protesting not a little as she tried to sit up fully. Nick had left shortly after their second bout and while part of her wished to enjoy that early morning waking up together romantically with a man, the other part, the reality check part, was almost relieved to be alone.

  He’d mentioned something about seeing her after the next lecture, but what she’d neglected to say to him was, “Oh, by the way, my thirteen-year-old son’s arriving today. Oh, and do you know what else? His father is bloody dead.”

  Yeah, probably just as well she hadn’t dropped in that little titbit – or indeed either of those bits of news. It was, after all, nothing to do with what she had going on with Nick and that was exactly the way she wanted it. That was the way it had to be if she was to continue this extended sex-buddy scenario. And let’s face it . . . Caro rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat upright, who wouldn’t want to keep doing the nasty with Mr Nick Divine!

  She really should get his last name, she thought as she made her way on slightly unsteady legs to the bathroom, otherwise it was just slutty, right?Was that a rule? she wondered as the steam from the shower enveloped her. Was it obligatory to know name, rank and serial number of a guy you wouldn’t see again after a few weeks? She’d ask Ali, but then Ali would probably give her a big, long list of bloody rules and really, Caro just wasn’t interested. She’d have lovely – wait, strike that – awesome sex with a virtual stranger, keep it to that and then go back to real life.

  But there was one big flaw in that plan. Since visiting Palazzo Bellaire, since the visit to the di Lucas, real life was no longer life as she knew it. And real life was about to get a lot more real when she plucked up t
he courage to tell her son – that smart, loving, trusting young man – that the father he rarely asked about, the father she barely talked about, well, that man was gone.

  Head starting to throb, Caro downed a glass of water and a banana with a side of painkillers, and dressed quickly. She had coffee to buy, class to teach, lunch to eat – and if her jittery stomach could bear it, papers to correct and, drum roll, please, a teenage boy to collect from the airport. She’d never in her life been as conflicted as she was right now. She’d never, ever not wanted to spend time with her son. Oh, there’d been times when she and a few girlfriends went away for a couple of days. And she’d done so happily and easily, knowing Toby was with her parents or one of her siblings. But she’d always been relieved to have him back. Safe with her. Their own unit, together.

  A team.

  For the first time, Caro was anxious at the thought of spending time with him, because she had absolutely no idea, no clue, how he was going to react to what she knew she must tell him. That scared her shitless.

  Please please please . . . the text read.

  Seriously, T? You’re 13 AND in a foreign country.

  Caro typed back swiftly, exhaling a deep breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

  But I can do it and I want to practice my Italian. Honest, Mum, it’s just a bus ride. I do it all the time at home. And I have just flown here, solo. What can go wrong?

  What, indeed? Caro thought. It was times like this when these little parenting decisions – small ones that could potentially have serious consequences but seemed small on the asking – well, these were the times when Caro was at her loneliest. No one to ask, so should we? Do you think he’s old enough? Dare we? You decide.