The Innocent's Secret Baby(17)

Raul was trying not to touch her.

It was such an intimate piece, and personal too, for it felt as if the energy that hummed between them had somehow been tapped.

And then Silvio merged the couple, pulling the feminine thigh around the  male loin, arching the neck backwards, and Lydia was aware of the sound  of her own pulse whooshing in her ears.

The erotic beauty was more subtle now, the anatomical details conjoined  for ever and captured in glass. And then Silvio rolled another layer of  molten glass over them, covering the conjoined beauty with a silken  glass sheet.

Yet they all knew what lay beneath.

'Now my signature...' Silvio said, and Lydia felt as if she had been snapped from a trance.

He seared his name into the base, and smoothed it till it was embedded,  and then it was for Raul and Lydia to admire the finished piece.

'I've never seen anything like it,' Lydia admitted as she examined the statue.

How could glass be sexy? Yet this was a kiss, in solid form, and the  intimate anatomical work that had seemed wasted when the forms had been  merged was now revealed-she could see the density at the base of the  woman's spine that spoke of the man deep within her.

'It's an amazing piece,' Raul said, and Lydia couldn't believe that his  voice sounded normal when she felt as if she had only just returned from  being spirited away.

'There are more...' Silvio said, and he took them through to another area and showed them several other pieces.

As stunning as they all were, for Lydia they didn't quite live up to the  lovers' statue. Perhaps it was because she had witnessed it being made,  Lydia mused as they stepped back out into the street.

It was disorientating.

Lydia went to head left, but Raul took her hand and they went right and he led her back to the speedboat.

The driver had gone, on Raul's instruction, and it was he who drove them to San Marco.

Raul took great pride in showing her around this most seductive of cities.

They wandered through ghostly back streets and over bridges.

'It's so wonderful to be here,' Lydia said. 'It was all so rushed last  time, and it felt as if we were just ticking things off a list.'

'And the obligatory gondola ride?' Raul said, but her response surprised him.

'No.' Lydia shook her head. 'Some of the girls did, but...' She stopped.

'But?'

'Sitting on the bus with the teacher was bad enough. I think a gondola ride with her would have been worse somehow.'

She tried to keep it light, as Raul had managed to when they had been  talking about her lonely school trip in Rome. She didn't quite manage  it, though.

Raul, who had been starting to think about their dinner reservation, steered her towards the canal.

'Come on,' he said. 'You cannot do Venice without a gondola ride.'

Till this point Raul had, though.

Raul's usual mode of transport was a speedboat.

But there was nothing like Venice at sunset from a gondola, as both found out together.

The low boat sliced gently through the water and the Grand Canal blushed  pink as the sun dipped down. He looked over as she sighed, and saw  Lydia smiling softly as she drank it all in.

'You don't take photos?' Raul observed.

'My phone's flat,' Lydia said, but then admitted more. 'I'm not one for taking photos.'

'Why not?'

He was ever-curious about her-something Raul had never really been before.

'Because when it's gone it's gone,' Lydia said. 'Best to move on.'

The gondolier took them through the interior canals that were so atmospheric that silence was the best option.

It was cool on the water, and there were blankets they could put over their knees, but she accepted Raul's jacket.

The silk was warm from him, and as she put it on he helped her. The only  reason he had not kissed her before was because he'd thought it might  prove impossible to stop.

But Raul was beyond common sense thinking now-and so was she.

He took her face in his hands and he looked at her mouth-the lipstick was long gone.

'I want you,' he told her.

'And you know I want you.'

Lydia did.

His mouth told her just how much he wanted her. She watched his eyelids  shutter, and then he tasted her. Lydia did the same. She felt the soft  weight of him and her mouth opened just a little as they flirted with  their tongues. There was tenderness, promise and building passion in  every stroke and beat. Yet even as they kissed she cared for the view,  and now and then opened her eyes just for a glimpse, because it was like  spinning circles in a blazing sky.         

     



 

His hand slipped inside the jacket. First just the pad of his thumb  caressed her breast, and then-she had been right-the dress drew his  attention down.

His hand was on her stomach, just lingering, and Lydia felt his warm  palm through the fabric. Her breathing stilled and he felt the change  and pulled her closer, to taste and feel more.

They sailed under ancient bridges and he kissed her knowingly. So attuned were they no one would guess they weren't lovers yet.

There was just the sound of the gondolier's paddle and the taste of passion.

She was on fire, and yet he made her shiver.

Soon Raul knew the gondolier would turn them around, for the canal ended  soon. They were about to pass under the Bridge of Sighs and the bells  of St Mark's Campanile were tolling.

Which meant, according to legend, that if they kissed they would be granted eternal love and bliss.

Which Raul did not want.

But their mouths made a fever-a fever neither wanted to break-and anyway he didn't believe in legends.

They pulled their mouths apart as the gondolier turned them around, but their foreheads were still touching.

Lydia was breathless and flushed, and though Raul had made so many plans for her perfect Venetian night he could wait no more.

They should be stopping soon for champagne, and then a canalside dinner  at his favourite restaurant. Except his hand was back between them,  stroking her nipple through velvet, and her tongue was more knowing.

His best-laid plans were fading.

Lydia pulled her mouth back, but he kissed her cheek and moved his lips  towards her ear, and his jaw was rough and delicious, and his hand on  her breast had her suddenly desperate.

'Raul...' Lydia said.

Oh, she said his name so easily now.

And he knew her so much more, because there was a slight plea in her voice and it matched the way he felt.

He pulled back his own mouth, only enough to deliver the gondolier an instruction.

The sky was darker as they kissed through the night, and soon they were  gliding back towards the Grand Canal, and now Raul wished for an engine  and the speed of his own boat.

The gondolier came to a stop at a water door and said something. It took  a moment for Lydia to register that they had stopped and so had the  kiss. Realising that she was being spoken to, she looked around  breathlessly, staring up at yet another palazzo and trying to take in  her surroundings.

'It's beautiful!' Lydia said, trying to be a good tourist while wishing they could get back to kissing.

Raul smiled at her attempt to be polite when she was throbbing between the legs.

'It's even more beautiful inside,' Raul told her. 'This is my home.'

Lydia almost wept in relief.

He got out first and took her by the hand, and then pushed open the dark door.

She entered his home an innocent.

Lydia would not be leaving it the same.





CHAPTER NINE

THROUGH THE ENTRANCE and into an internal elevator they went, but Lydia  prayed there would be no fire in the night, for she did not take in her  surroundings at all-their kisses were frantic and urgent now.

His body was hard against hers, and his hands were a little rough as Raul fought with himself not to hitch up her dress.

The jolt of the old elevator was barely noted-there was just relief that they could get out.

They almost ran.

Raul took her hand and led her with haste through a long corridor lined with ancient mirrors and lit with white pillar candles.

And at the end, as if she were looking through a keyhole, there was the reward of open wooden doors that revealed a vast bed.

She would wake up soon, Lydia was sure.

She would wake up from this sensual dream.

Yet she did not.

There were colours that rained on the walls and the bed, yet she was too into Raul to look for their source.

And was she scared?

No.

Shy?

Not a bit.

Raul stripped, and then no words were needed, no instruction required, as naked, erect, he dealt with her dress.

Lydia held up her hair as he unzipped her.

She shook as he removed the dress, then her bra.

And she moaned as he knelt to remove first her shoes and then the final garment between them.

Raul slid the silk down and probed her with his tongue. Lydia stood and  knotted her fingers in his hair, and as Raul gently eased in two  fingers, though it hurt, it was bliss.

She parted her legs as he licked and stretched her, and ensured she was oiled at the same time.

He turned away from her then, reaching for the bedside table.

'You're on the Pill?'

Lydia nodded, a touch frantic. She wanted no pause for she needed him inside her.

Lydia had the rest of her life to be sensible and behave.

Just this night.

He took her to his bed and they knelt upon it, kissing and caressing  each other. Gliding their hands over each other's body. His muscled and  taut...hers softer. They recreated the scene from earlier, at the  glassblower's, because it had felt at the time as if they were watching  themselves.