Learning to Trust (8 page)

At the airport he got out of the taxi and tipped the man as generously as he could, considering he only had a hundred and fifty euros left. Enough to do what he had to. He went straight to the desk and bought a ticket for Pisa. It had to be an internal journey, otherwise they’d demand his documentation, and he wanted to leave as clean a trail as he could.

It would take the occupants of the gray car that had followed him from the café to the airport a while to discover that he didn’t intend to get the plane. He made his way toward the gate, but ducked aside before he got there and visited the restroom. He did it again and again until he didn’t see anyone he recognized from the car, and was as sure as he could be that nobody was following him. Then he visited a cash machine and topped up.

As he browsed in a luggage store, he watched the people coming and going. By the time he’d bought a new leather case he was almost sure he’d headed anyone off. He made the assistant bag up his purchases, which caused some muttered curses, but he didn’t want a chance of anyone seeing it before he was ready.

He crossed to the restroom close to the luggage store and waited five minutes, taking his time washing his hands. Two men entered and left. He’d better get on with this before someone accused him of loitering.

Only then did he get into a cubicle and strip out of his jeans and T-shirt. At last he could use the Armani suit he’d dragged around with him. With the help of navy pinstripe, only slightly crumpled, a crisp white shirt and red tie, he turned himself back into a sharp businessman. Or as sharp as he could manage in an airport restroom. He pulled the shoes out of their bag at the bottom of his holdall, gave them a quick rub and put them on over black socks. It would be far too hot once he got out of the air-conditioned airport, but he’d cope.

As he left the cubicle, he glanced in the mirror over the sinks. Checking his appearance, he realized it felt like years since he’d looked at that particular reflection instead of less than a month. He’d been through so much, learned so much.

He needed to smell good, but he’d left his aftershave in his toilet bag. Hotel receptionists tended to notice things like that. A machine in the corner provided the answer, but what came out of the spray didn’t appear to be the one he’d selected, but a cheap substitute.
Even here the gangs had sway,
he guessed, substituting the real thing for a knockoff.

He went over the plan he’d formulated in the cab, sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Shit, but this stuff would be exciting if he wasn’t worrying himself stupid over the woman he’d left behind.

He dipped his hands in cold water and brought some order to his hair, brushing it back from his forehead instead of keeping a heavy lock falling forward, bad boy style, using the new set he’d bought at the luggage store. Brush, razor, comb and nail file. He filed his nails down from the ragged edges he’d somehow let them grow into, and gave them a perfunctory buff. Businessman? He frowned at the reflection. Yes, that would do. Like this he didn’t look like the tousled tourist who’d left the café that morning. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.
Better
. Then he lifted his chin and finally recognized the arrogance he sometimes used to quell the paparazzi or a woman coming on to him too strong. An arrogance he’d once used thoughtlessly, so accustomed to deferential treatment and respect. That had finally ended at the university, when only academic excellence and the ability to stand up after a few pitchers of beer earned respect. That and sports, of course. In his first year his fellow students had destroyed any pretensions he’d started out with. He could only feel gratitude toward them.

Now he needed that attitude, the supreme self-confidence of his early years. Only that would carry him through. The suit was only as good as the man inside it.

He dragged his empty suit carrier and sports bag to a corner of the snug area and left them there. He’d stuffed the new case and the briefcase with his other clothes, loath to leave anyone still pursuing him any clue. Someone would pick up those pieces of luggage. He couldn’t risk the people following him identifying the distinctive Vuitton luggage. Hopefully it would be someone who could use them, and not the disposal staff.

Whatever.

He left the restroom, dragging his new case and carrying his new briefcase. Taking the long way around the airport, looking suitably bored and arrogant, he headed for the exit.

His heartbeat increased when the automatic doors swished open and the August heat of Italy hit him like a wall. He hailed a taxi but he saw nobody he recognized, and couldn’t see anyone staring at him. Not that he stared or glanced around. Like the king of the world, he stepped into the backseat of the taxi and gave the driver terse instructions to take him to the Romeo hotel.

Strange how different Naples could look. He’d seen the back streets, the litter that only the gangs could control—and only then when they felt like it—the beggars and the run-down buildings. Now the driver took him the pretty way. He got a beautiful view of the bay and the not-so-distant peaks of Vesuvius and Etna brooding over the city. He’d hardly noticed them while he’d been with Lina, looking for Byron, except for that first day, when he’d taken her out to eat. Now they appeared to dominate everything. And empty, so empty, despite the tourists, the sellers of various goods, including the inevitable knockoffs. He gave a wry grin. Nearly killed for a fake Chanel purse.

The hotel proved aggressively modern, lights glimmering from it in the darkened city. With a shock, he realized it was nearly eleven o’clock.

Ten minutes later he gazed around the suite he’d acquired, with its wide, comfortable bed and glorious view over the bay. And knew where he’d rather be.

It wasn’t here.

Lina turned over and punched her pillow again, growling in frustration. She wasn’t sure how such a small bed could feel so wide, so empty. She had a whole day’s work ahead, working from nine until eight, trying to make up the hours she’d lost during Jon’s visit. It was over now. She’d see him once more, just to make sure he was okay, then get back to her real life.

After another hour of tossing and turning, she got up and made a coffee. She might as well get on with some studying. The last thing she needed to do was to go over the nights she’d spent here with him. Nights when they never got enough of each other, when he woke her to make love to her in the small hours. When he laughed and joked with her during the day. But he belonged to the life she’d left behind and just because she’d met with him again didn’t mean she had to change the direction she’d chosen. Or that she should.

All through the day she told herself that the fling would do her good, that her depression would pass in a few days. Today was Monday, and on Wednesday, Jon would take Byron’s ashes and return to New York. Once he’d assured himself that she was okay, and created a false trail for himself. After that, she could settle down.

At the end of the day Franco took her aside and told her not to visit Jon. The Colleghi had let him know they were satisfied with Jon’s exit. But visiting him might create a link and put him in more danger.

She knew she shouldn’t go, but she wanted to know he’d gotten to his hotel safely. And she had Tuesday afternoon off.
One more time
, she told herself. Just one more time.

So Tuesday found her walking into the Romeo as if she owned it. She didn’t look right or left, but headed for the information desk and told them to contact Jon. She left the fake name he’d given her. While she waited, she reflected on the last hotel she’d been in with him. The only things different about today were her attitude and her dress. She’d left the café in her ordinary clothes, and then ducked into one of the big department stores in town to change. Nobody was watching her and nobody followed her.

She’d not dressed expensively; she’d just made it look that way. Good fake gold jewelry worn in moderation, a simple loose-fitting sundress in pale yellow and her hair smoothed and confined under a matching scarf. And huge sunglasses, knockoffs as it happened. She’d made her face up for the first time in years. Once she could have afforded the real thing and not thought twice about the price. She’d thrown that away with her old life. No doubt her mother had spent it all by now. She didn’t care. Much.

“Go straight up,” the receptionist said and bestowed a professional smile on her. Perhaps the Romeo was just a better hotel than the George, but nobody gave her a sideways glance, or insinuated in any way that a woman visiting a man alone in his hotel room was suspicious.

All glass, metal and leather, the Romeo stood out from the other hotels in Naples and after a couple of years still had that “new” vibe. Lina would have chosen somewhere else, but the masculine aura would suit Jon well. Anyway, she was only visiting.

He was waiting for her at the door to his suite. She lifted her hand to knock and the door flew open. He grabbed her, dragged her into his arms, slammed the door shut and had his mouth on hers in less than five seconds. Not that she was counting.

As her mouth relaxed and opened under his, the tension she’d been feeling since he’d left released. She didn’t fool herself that it was because she was worried about him. That too, of course, but oh, the relief. In his arms she felt wanted, complete, all the things she’d almost forgotten about. He pressed against her so tightly he could only run his hands up and down her sides, skimming her breasts. His touch sent shivers through her, with shudders of need.

He lifted his mouth from hers and she whimpered. “Are you okay?”

“I am as long as you keep doing that.”

He touched his lips to her forehead, strung a line of kisses down her face. “I was sure you’d come, but I daren’t send you a message. I didn’t even know if you remembered the hotel you recommended that first day. When you didn’t come yesterday I nearly went out of my mind. I had to see you. If I’d come back to the café I’d put you in trouble, and I bet they have a line tap going. Even your cell phone. I couldn’t take the chance. But oh, Jesus, never do that to me again.”

“I won’t.” She could promise that with a clear conscience. She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed his forehead. He took advantage, taking his kisses down to her throat. Moving away, he took her hand. “This isn’t what I’d planned, but I need you, Lina. Come to bed with me. Please.”

If he hadn’t planned it, she certainly had. She had until six. Five hours to enjoy him, to commit to memory what she couldn’t take with her. So the sooner they got naked, the better.

But he took time undressing her, stroking her skin and kissing her. So slow, watching her. He unhooked her bra and lowered the straps, smiling when he revealed her breasts, her nipples hard and sensitive. For him.

Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he bent and sucked one into his mouth, at the same time urging her back. She had to trust that he wouldn’t let her fall, but she didn’t hesitate. He’d backed them to the bed and she fell onto the soft mattress and crisp sheets. He fell with her, but supported himself on his forearms. He smiled down at her. “I missed you. Now we can really get busy. Space, a big tub next door and room service. How ’bout that?”

When she opened her mouth to answer him, he covered her mouth with his, and took her in a long, leisurely kiss. He explored her mouth, stroked his tongue against hers in an exquisitely soft caress, and swept his palm down her side again. She wore only her panties now, but he got rid of them in one firm stroke. She kicked them off one leg, and pushed her heel against the floor to give herself enough purchase to turn him. But only partially.

He’d answered the door dressed in jeans and polo top, and she wanted them off. Although she felt deliciously wicked, being naked while he was completely dressed, the lure of his strong body proved too much. While he touched, kissed, stroked her breasts and pinched her nipples, delivering nips and licks, she stripped him until her skin slid against his, a full-body caress.

Laughing, he dragged her to the edge of the bed and prised her legs apart. He kneeled up, one hand on her hip and the other reaching for the packet he’d left on the bedside table.

She followed his action with her gaze. “Expecting me?”

“Hoping, praying, more like. I haven’t left this room except to go down to the cash machine and the restaurant. You know how to keep a man on tenterhooks, don’t you?” When she would have explained, he touched a finger to her lips. “No. Later. I just want you.”

Words would wreck this, so she didn’t protest. Soon enough she’d have to leave, to tell him she’d decided to stay. But not now. Now belonged to them and she intended to enjoy every second of it.

She adored his strong body, the way he examined her with hands, gaze and eventually tongue. He kissed her breasts, strung kisses on the undersides and then took a nipple into his mouth, only to leave it and bestow another deep kiss on the other. She reached for him. Before she could grab his head and force him to suck hard, he’d left her to kiss farther down. He caressed her navel with a flick of his tongue and followed an imaginary line down to her pussy. She muttered for him, but forgot to speak English. He raised his head and she could have howled.

“What did you just say?”

“That I’m hungry, for you.”

“I mean the word. I like it.”

She smiled. “
Allupato
. It means hungry for sex.”

He licked his lips. “Oh, baby, am I ever starving.”

She shivered with need, her pussy going from damp to soaking in the time it took him to lower his head and take one long lick, from opening to clit.

She cried out and arched up, but he laid his hands on her thighs to steady her. He continued with his strong, long licks, as if enjoying an ice-cream cone. He growled against her, rumbled, the sound quivering against her, pushing her arousal up even more.

When he’d tasted every part of her vulva, he circled her clit with his tongue, as he had done to her nipples. Then without warning of his intent he sucked, deep. Waves of tingling chills rolled up her spine, like the tide coming in, preparing her for the deluge ahead. One she welcomed.

She clutched blindly, grasping handfuls of the sheet, needing something to hold on to. She went from crying his name to mindless keening. So much, nothing like she remembered before. She was lost in a sea of bewildered delight. But she trusted Jon to keep her safe, even while he drove her out of her mind.

While still sucking and licking, he scooped her thighs high. He urged her to drape them over his shoulders, changing the angle and leaving her wide open for him to do whatever he wanted to her. Then he touched her, and plunged one finger deep inside. She felt him inside her, tickling and exploring and then he hit her G-spot, a place nobody before him had ever found.

A second finger joined the first and the sucking changed to noisy slurping. She tightened her hold and experienced that moment of still, quiet calm just before the explosion hit. As if in the eye of the hurricane, then moving past it into the maelstrom.

Crying his name, bucking hard, she wasn’t sure how or when he withdrew to brace his hands on either side of her and plunge his cock deep inside. He met no resistance, and stroked past her G-spot with an accuracy that had her howling.

“Open your eyes.” That didn’t sound like him, more like a man driven to the point of no return, gruff and demanding. But she opened her eyes.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes wild, the pupils huge, almost engulfing the bright blue irises. For her, all for her. He wanted her as much as she needed him. With a shock, she realized she didn’t know if he had donned the condom or not. She’d never, ever forgotten that, even in her worst times. Although she would have done, had there been a black market for rubbers. Not this time. What kind of fool did that make her?

He drew back. “What’s wrong?” Comprehension returned, his eyes regaining the sharp edge she was used to. “Ah. Yes, I did. I asked you to trust me.”

“I do.”

But he shook his head. “It’s okay.” He pushed deep until their pubic hair meshed. “I respect you too much to take chances.”

Was that it, or did he think to protect himself? She shoved the thought away, deep inside, but it wouldn’t go. “I’m fine. The nuns did tests and I—I haven’t had sex until you.”

He dropped a small kiss on her lips. “It’s for you. I want you to feel safe with me, even when I’m fucking you senseless. Say, what’s Italian for fucking?”

“
Fotutto
.”

He smiled. “Then let’s get
fotutto
-ing.” He plunged deep, and she lost the thread of what conversation they’d had. Her legs went up of their own volition. She curled them around his back, just above his buttocks. He growled and thrust again, finding her G-spot once more, driving her up to another sudden orgasm. She cried his name and held on. He hammered into her, giving her a series of sharp, hard contractions. She felt more, a vibration deep inside her, near her heart, telling her there was more to come.

Opening her eyes again she caught him watching her, his gaze melting her, caressing her as if he was using his hands. He lifted one hand, supporting his upper body with the other, and touched her clit. Pinched and tweaked it. Then twisted, and she came apart.

Kneeling between her thighs, her legs wrapped possessively around him, he took her up until she wanted nothing more than this. That he never stopped, that he stopped, that he touched her gently, that he touched her harder. Just that he made her come.

Her body racked with convulsions, she forced her eyes to remain open and watched him. He flung his head back, his throat stretched taut and he swallowed before he froze and cried her name twice. His cock pulsed inside her, throbbed with the force of his orgasm and every muscle in his body tightened. He gripped her thighs once more. The bruises would remind her of this, and she knew she’d bruise. Perhaps she could get the marks tattooed, a permanent reminder of the way he’d made her existence take a seismic shift.

His chest heaving, he took a deep breath before he relaxed his grip and lowered his head to gaze down at her face. With his hair tousled, as it was in the mornings, his body sheened in sweat, she adored the way he looked. She’d never, ever forget it. Never wanted to. It would help her in the future, when she was without him.

“Hey,” he murmured. He scooped her up and flung her backward over the sheets, climbing onto the bed to join her. She went into his arms, their conjoined heat almost uncomfortable, even in the air-conditioned comfort of the hotel room. But she needed this, needed the closeness after they’d—what? Fucked, or made love? She knew which one she’d done, but she couldn’t, mustn’t ask.

He took her mouth in a luscious kiss, folding her close, making her feel needed in a way that was new to her. He held her just as close when he finished, drawing back just enough so he could talk to her, his minty breath feathering over her lips. “Are you okay?”

“Very okay.” She reached up, kissed him. “You’re a very talented man.”

“Thanks. But it’s down to you. You make me lose my mind.”

She laughed, a relaxed, gentle huff. “Don’t tell me it never happened to you before.”

“Okay, I won’t. Tell you, that is. Not yet, anyway.”

She caught her breath.
Don’t go there.
Instead she stretched up for another kiss. He gave it, and more, but pulled away. “I’m not the Energizer Bunny, though I wish I could be that way, for you. When did you last have a bath in a good, deep tub?”

She stared at him blankly. She couldn’t remember. After her life on the streets, the nuns only had showers and she’d never used the bath in her current apartment, preferring to shower. The stained tub had held no appeal for her. Then she laughed. “Okay, you got me. You make it sound like I’m back living on the streets.”

“Nope, just that nobody’s pampered you in a while. Let me do it now. You stay there, and I’ll come fetch you when it’s ready.”