An Invitation to Sin(24)

‘Thank you.'

He didn't have to ask what she was thanking him for. ‘I'm starting to  understand why you're so scared of the press. They never leave you  alone.' He was frowning as he weaved through the heavy Palermo traffic.  ‘Has it always been like that?'

‘Yes. Right from the beginning. I had a mother who knew how to give them  exactly what they wanted. She was the master at drawing media attention  and using it.'

‘Just what you want when you're an awkward adolescent.'

‘It's got worse since then. I've come to accept I'll never shake them  off. My dream is to go out and for no one to recognise me. Once, just  once, I'd love to live life like a normal person, not having to worry  about who is pointing a camera and how what I do will be interpreted.  Can you imagine that?' She gave a short, desperate laugh because she  knew it was never going to happen.

‘What would you do? If you could go out and not be recognised-what would you do?'

‘I don't know. Just go to a concert or something and stand in the crowd.  Blend in. But seeing as that isn't going to happen, I choose to do  things that give me some privacy. Do you even like opera? It seemed like  a good idea but now I'm not sure.'

‘I'm Sicilian. I love opera.'

She relaxed slightly. Even the most persistent observer was unlikely to  interrupt the opera to ask them questions about their relationship, and  the bonus was that they wouldn't be able to talk. He wouldn't be able to  make some sharp comment that showed how easily he saw through to the  person she really was.                       
       
           



       

He already knew far too much about her.

An evening at the opera should be perfect.

Except that it didn't turn out that way.

She'd thought that the dark would protect them from prying eyes, but it turned out she was wrong about that too.

Seated close together in the privacy of a box, his leg brushed against  hers and she immediately ceased to focus on anything that was happening  on the stage. She was aware of heads turning towards them in the  darkness and felt a brief flicker of frustration that even here, in the  protected atmosphere of the opera theatre, they couldn't escape the  scrutiny of the public.

But that irritation gave way to deeper, darker concerns. Like the fact  that although their engagement might be fake there was nothing fake  about the sexual tension simmering between them. It was raw, hot and  real and becoming harder to ignore with each burning look they  exchanged. And the intensity of the feeling confused her. He was  insanely handsome, of course, but she'd met enough handsome men during  the course of her career to be immune to the combination of perfectly  proportioned features and a powerful physique. No, the connection came  from something deeper. Something she saw beneath the surface layers of  eye-catching masculinity. And whatever it was that drew her, drew her  now as they sat close together, thigh pressed against thigh in the dark  intimacy of the opera house.

As drama unfolded on the stage beneath them, so drama unfolded in the box.

She was aware of every beat of her heart. Aware of him and when Luca's  hand covered hers she knew she ought to pull hers way but she didn't.  Couldn't. So instead of ending it there she laced Her fingers with his  and he drew her hand onto his thigh. It was a subtle, sensual dance  between man and woman. Her gaze was fixed on the stage but she saw  nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing except the strength of his fingers  on hers and the hard muscle of his thigh under her palm. Heat traced her  skin, desire knotted low in her pelvis and she opened her eyes because  closing them left the world to her imagination and that was a dangerous  place to be right now.

She'd promised herself no more relationships. She'd trained herself to  ignore that wild, passionate part of herself that had got her into  trouble in the past. She'd decided there would be no more unguarded  moments where she trusted a man only to wake up the next morning and  discover the personal had become public.

But this-this was more temptation than she knew how to deal with.

She'd chosen to wear a floor-length dress but that proved to be no  barrier because somehow his hand was on her bare thigh, his long skilled  fingers tantalisingly close to that part of her. She clamped her thighs  together but the movement didn't dislodge his hand and she felt his  fingers stroke inside her panties and her face burned in the darkness  because she knew he'd find her already aroused. She turned her head and  was scorched by the dark heat in his eyes. Her breathing was shallow and  so was his and he held her gaze as his fingers slid deeper, exploring  her with erotic precision and unapologetic intimacy until not moving  took all her willpower. But she couldn't move or make a sound because  that would have risked drawing the attention of the audience away from  the performance onstage and so she was forced to stay totally still and  silent. And he took ruthless advantage, relentless in his delivery of  pleasure as he explored the slick heat of her, creating sensation so  wickedly good she was forced to clamp her jaws closed to hold back the  sound.

She wanted him to stop. She didn't want him to stop. She didn't know  what she wanted but he knew and he took her there, with nothing but his  fingers and the intensity of his hot, dark gaze that held hers all the  way through the pulsing shock waves of her climax.

On stage the soprano was singing her way to the grave but here, in the  shaded darkness of the box, it was all about life and passion.

Shattered and trembling, Taylor stared at him. He leaned in, bringing  his mouth close to hers. His kiss was slow, lingering, deliberate.  Personal. Less of an assault and more a promise and she realised there  was no way this was over. His hand was still between her legs. Her hand  was in his lap and he was painfully aroused, rock hard under her warm  palm.

Time passed. She had no idea how much time until applause washed around  her. For a terrible moment she thought they were clapping for her and  then realised that the singing had stopped. The opera had finished. And  she was expected to stand up and act as if nothing had happened.

It was Luca who gently eased away from her and smoothed her dress before  the lights came up and she was grateful for the dress because it  concealed how much her legs were shaking. She wasn't sure she was  capable of walking, but he took her arm calmly and somehow she managed  to walk out of the box, through the crowd, as if the passion had all  been on the stage and not between the two of them.                       
       
           



       

There were stares, of course, but she was used to that.

What she wasn't used to was feeling so out of control.

Taylor kept her head down as they walked, ignoring the demands of the  press to know when they were getting married, afraid to look at him  because she had no idea what was in her eyes.

Flashbulbs blinded her as Luca accelerated away in the Ferrari and she  was so relieved by the burst of speed that left everyone else far behind  she didn't even snipe at him.

She didn't speak.

He didn't speak.

But the tension throbbed between them like a living force, thickening  the air until it was almost impossible to breathe, the atmosphere  sexually charged and the heat almost unbearable.

Their restraint lasted until they closed the bedroom door and then they  both moved. Together. At the same time, mouths fused, hands desperate,  tearing at fabric, sliding over skin, greedy for each other and  determined to feed the hunger.

His jacket hit the floor.

Her dress slithered after it.

Her hands ripped at his shirt, exposing wide shoulders and hard male  muscle, and she felt that muscle flex as he lifted her easily and  flattened her against the wall. her eyes closed. His mouth was hot on  her neck and on the exposed curve of her breasts. He dragged down the  lace of her bra and fastened his mouth over her nipple, the skilled  flick of his tongue dragging a gasp from her. It was a relief to be able  to let the sound escape.

She wound her leg around his hips and felt him shift slightly as he  loosened his belt. Desperate, he fumbled for something and then his  trousers hit the floor with the rest of their clothes and she felt the  silken hardness of him against her thigh.

‘Ti voglio tanto-I want you.' Switching between languages, Luca stumbled  over the words, his hand behind her neck as he brought his mouth down  on hers and captured her lips in a raw, explicit kiss that sent shock  waves of sensation rocketing through her body.

‘Me too-me too … ' She was barely coherent as she closed her hand round  the thick length of him, heard him groan and say something in Italian  she didn't understand and then his hands were under her bottom and he  was lifting her, supporting her weight with his arms as he pressed her  back against the wall and entered her with a single hard thrust that  joined them completely. The feel of him deep inside her was so  shockingly good she cried out. No silence for her this time as the hot,  hard heat of him consumed her and no silence from him either as he  released a raw, primitive groan that originated somewhere deep in his  throat.