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She was briefly tempted to get in and drive away, and delegate the task of helping this ungrateful man to someone else. But not going back in would have been admitting she was afraid of feeling whatever it was this stranger had churned up.
The kitchen, with its inglenook fireplace and flagged floor, was as big as a barn, but despite this Sam felt as if the stone walls were closing in on her as she stepped back inside. The stranger had a way of making any space seem confined.
‘Would you like to sit down?’ she asked. It was an invitation that Sam wouldn’t have minded accepting herself—her knees had the consistency of cotton wool as she approached him.
His expression was surly as he held out his arm towards her, peeled off the towel and snapped, ‘Dio mio, woman, just get on with it if you must.’
‘Is this the Italian charm I’ve heard so much about?’ Her voice faded when she saw the edges of the gaping wound he had exposed on his palm. ‘You really need to see a doctor. It might need suturing…’
‘What I need is peace and quiet, so either put on a Band-Aid or go.’
Sam sighed reading the note of finality of his pronouncement. She didn’t have to be psychic to see he wasn’t a man who would recognise compromise if it hit him on his rather perfect nose.
She took his wrist and held his hand over the Belfast sink as she cleaned the area with antiseptic from the first-aid kit.
He accepted her ministrations in silence punctuated only by the rain that began to lash against the window.
The storm and the heaviness in the air probably accounted for ninety per cent of the weird tension that held her in its grip.
‘The storm is coming.’
Almost before the words were out of her mouth lightning flashed, filling the room with white. Sam tensed.
The storm was here.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing…lightning. I’m not keen on storms.’ In the distance Sam could hear the dull roll of thunder and he obviously did too.
‘It’s quite close.’
‘I’d worked that out for myself,’ she said crankily, keeping her head bent over his hand. ‘Sorry if this is hurting.’ She attached the final strip of tape to the bandage. ‘Done.’ She angled a questioning look at his face. She was pretty sure what his response would be, but she felt obliged to ask anyway. ‘Would you like me to call someone for you?’
‘I would like—’
At that moment there was a bang so loud that Sam shrieked and leapt as though shot. She saw the contents of the first-aid box hit the floor and a second later she couldn’t see anything at all—the lights went out and the room was plunged into inky darkness.
‘Calm down, woman, it’s only a bit of thunder.’
Despite the irritation in his voice she supposed the hand that fell on her shoulder was meant to offer comfort.
‘The lights have gone out,’ she said.
His face had separated itself out from the darkness, a more solid shadow, but she could not make out any details of his features as he responded in a voice wiped clean of all expression.
‘They went out for me five weeks ago.’
Only five weeks! Her eyes widened in shock and for a moment she was not conscious of the storm.
‘Was it gradual or…?’
The fingers on her arm tightened. ‘You mean did I have time to practise with my white cane and learn Braille? No, I didn’t. It was the side effect of surgery following an accident. But let’s look on the bright side—I’m the man you want around when the lights go out. And are you scared of the dark, my ministering angel?’
‘Are you?’ She reached out for his face, trailing her fingers down strong contours, trying to translate the tactile messages into an image…was this how he saw?
Did he live with a fear of the blackness he now faced every day? The thought of his dark world made something twist hard inside Sam. She reached up and grabbed his head, drawing his mouth to hers and pressing her lips against his. She kissed him with a ferocity born of, not just lust, but sharp, sweet tenderness.
He did not react. There was the space of several heartbeats, during which she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her, before he responded, kissing her back with the wild desperation of a starving man.
‘Sometimes,’ she heard herself admit when the kiss ended and she was standing there shaking, ‘I’m scared of just about everything.’ But nothing in her life so far made her as scared as the rush of primal need she felt in the arms of this total stranger.
‘You hide it well.’
She couldn’t hide her response when his hand slid under her top, his long fingers skating over the hot skin of her back. She didn’t actually try.
And when he bent his dark head and fitted his mouth to hers, parting her lips with his tongue, she met it with her own. As his mouth lifted a fractured moan escaped past the emotional thickening in Sam’s aching throat. Then she could feel his breath warm against her neck, stirring the downy hairs on her cheek as he took her face between his hands and ran his thumbs across the trembling outline of her lips, swollen from his hungry kisses.
‘Dio Mio, it’s been a long time,’ he slurred thickly.
Sam was shaking inside and out as she whispered, ‘You’ve not lost the knack, I promise you.’
He ran his tongue slowly along the curve of her upper lip, a slow sensual smile forming on his own mouth when his actions drew a second deep throaty moan from her. ‘I haven’t wanted a woman for a long time.’
His words sent a fresh rush of heat through her body. ‘But you want me?’
The electricity in the lengthening silence had nothing to do with the storm raging outside. When he finally spoke his voice was thick and heavily accented.
‘What do you think?’ His big hands slid to her hips and, cupping her bottom, he drew her hard against his body so that she could feel the strength of his arousal.
A whimpering sound left her throat as she felt the erotic imprint of his erection in the soft flesh of her belly.
‘Will you take all of me, cara?’ Without waiting for a response he took hold of the hem of her top, and peeling it over her head, flung it over his shoulder before reaching for the clip on her bra.
A tiny sliver of sense surfaced and Sam shook her head.
‘Not yet.’
Shivering as the cool air hit her overheated skin, Sam was glad of the dark as he suggested, ‘For you too, I think, it has been a long time?’ His voice shook, tremors raking his lean frame as he bent his head and claimed her lips again.
Sam was startled when, his hands still anchored to her hips, he fell to his knees. He placed a hand in the small of her back and drew her towards him.
‘What are you…?’ She broke off, gasping as she felt the flicker of his tongue across her hardened nipples through the silk of her bra. Her head went back and a low keening cry left her throat as the erotic caress sent a pulse of heat deep into her pelvis, then again and again as he drew the tight peak into his mouth.
‘Oh, God!’ she moaned, and didn’t recognise her voice. Her head was spinning and she couldn’t focus. Her body was on fire; every nerve ending was screaming for his attention. Her knees sagged and she thought how she couldn’t take any more of what he was doing, except maybe the words were not in her head, maybe she said them out loud, because he groaned.
‘Me neither, cara.’ Then he picked her up, his big hands cupped under her bottom supporting her weight as he rose to his feet in fluid motion.
Feet clear of the ground, Sam linked her arms behind his head and kissed him hard on his mouth. He tasted of whisky and she remembered the empty bottles.
‘Are you drunk?’
‘That would be an excuse,’ he agreed. ‘But, no, I’m not, though neither do I think I am totally sane.’ He bent his head to kiss her once more.
‘You taste so good,’ he slurred thickly. ‘Do all ministering angels taste this good?’
‘Don’t stop!’ she pleaded, her fingers tangling in his hair drawing his face to her body.
‘I won’t…I can’t.’ Something in his voice conveyed he found the situation incomprehensible, which made two of them, Sam thought, clinging on tight as in total pitch darkness he took the flight of stone stairs two a time. He acted as though she weighed nothing. The muscles in his arms, and for that matter everywhere else, were obviously not just for show.
He kicked open the bedroom door and backed in carrying her. A flash of lightning zigzagged in the sky outside the stone mullion and for a moment she saw the room and him.
By the time he laid her on the four-poster and joined her the darkness had closed back in around them like a blanket, but the memory of the primal need etched into his dark features stayed with her.
She felt his hands on her body stripping off her remaining clothes, his touch adding fuel to the fire of frustration that was growing inside her.
She could hear his breath come faster as he touched her breasts, weighing and cupping them in his hands—by which time she was not breathing at all.
As his hands slid down her body she recalled reading somewhere that a person’s inhibitions were freed in the dark. It had to be true because now she found herself taking his hand and pressing it against the damp apex of her legs, urging him to touch her.
‘This isn’t me,’ she whispered as he slid fingers into her heat and dampness, causing her body to arch like a bow. She was on fire, she was melting…she was aching.
‘Well, whoever you are, cara, you’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.’
She let out a cry of protest when he levered himself off her, but literally seconds later he returned and his clothes were gone. The skin-to-skin contact sent a shock wave through her body, but it also seemed to kick-start her natural instincts into life.
‘You’re beautiful!’ She felt her first rush of feminine power as she laid a hand flat on his chest and a ripple shuddered through his body. ‘God, you feel so good.’
It was liberating and wildly exciting to slide her fingers over his smooth skin and hear his harsh intake of breath as her fingers tangled in the hair on his chest before sliding lower. The rippling male strength of his body fascinated her.
Her eyes closed tight, her breath coming in tiny gusty puffs, she let her hand trail even lower.
Her gasp and hasty withdrawal soon afterwards drew a low husky chuckle from the man beside her.
‘I said it had been a long time.’ He kissed her mouth and breathed thickly. ‘It’s what you do to me.’
Adjusting his position so that they lay face to face, he pulled her leg across his hip. He let her feel his arousal against her belly, then drew her hand down between them, curling her fingers around the hard shaft.
A flash of heat washed over her body as things shifted and tightened low in her pelvis. ‘You are incredible…’
This time it was Cesare who pulled her hand away, stifling her small cry of protest with his mouth. As they kissed with a feverish desperation their bodies pressed into one another as they fought to be one.
The anticipation lodged like a fist behind her breastbone as he flipped her onto her back. He was a dark shadow above her as he laid a hand either side of her head.
A fractured sigh left her lips as he inserted a knee between her legs and opened them before settling between them. As he thrust up and into her a shocked cry was wrenched from Sam’s throat at the moment of intimate invasion.
Above her she was conscious of him speaking in the same tone as someone might use to gentle a scared animal. His voice was low, and he might have been saying anything—she didn’t understand a word of Italian—but it sounded incredible. He also felt incredible and while she sort of knew what came next she couldn’t wait to find out.
She grabbed his shoulders, sliding her fingers down the smooth contours of his muscled back until they came to rest on his taut buttocks.
Above her she could hear the harsh sound of his laboured breathing. She grabbed really hard, arched against him and begged, ‘Please!’
The fierce request drew a groan from his chest. ‘Don’t push too hard. I need to stay in control…’
Sam didn’t need him in control, she needed him out of control. The fire in her blood was telling her she did.
He seemed to get the drift of her fierce request because a moment later he responded, and started to move, building a steady rhythm as he thrust deeper and deeper into her.
Her body closed around him and she wrapped her legs around his waist as the raw urgency that boiled in her blood took her over completely.
The anticipation built inside her until she thought she might explode or ignite—she did both.
It started slowly with small quivers and then it hit her, the strength of the climatic moment shocking a cry from her lips as she felt his hot release inside her.
He lay on top of her, neither making any effort to break the intimate connection until he groaned, ‘I’ll crush you, cara,’ and rolled off her.
Sam, who had liked being crushed by his heavy male body, lay there not knowing what to do until he suddenly reached out and pulled her into his side.
‘You’ll get cold over there, angel.’ He pulled the cover up over her and pulled her head onto his chest. ‘Sorry, I haven’t slept in days, but I will now. Don’t go anywhere.’
As she lay in his arms and listened to him breathing deep and steady she remembered overhearing a friend say something after she had just ended a particularly turbulent relationship.
‘Sex is not the cure, it’s the drug and it’s often worse than the disease that was there to begin with. It’s better to be lonely than need anyone that much.’
It had not made sense to Sam at the time, but now it did. She hadn’t felt lonely before, she hadn’t felt her life was missing any vital ingredient, but now she did.
She lifted her chin. She was a grown-up; she was going to move on; she wasn’t going to have her life defined by one chance meeting—and one deeply flawed, charismatic, fascinating man.
But there seemed no point moving on until the storm did the same.
Now, twelve weeks later, Sam could marvel at her naivety when she had thought moving on would be that simple. One experience had taught her that it was easier said than done especially when she had a constant reminder of that man and that night.
She sighed, pressed a hand to her stomach and thought of how much she would love this baby, no matter what.
‘I said, lady, you might as well get out and walk from here. This traffic is not going to move.’
Sam looked at the taxi driver, her blank gaze slowly clearing from her face. ‘Th-thank you,’ she stuttered, reaching in her bag for her purse.
The ability of the past to drag her back in this way was something she had to resist. It was totally pointless to revisit it and a mistake to assume any closeness to the man because they had shared one night.
She might have lain in his arms and laid her head to his heart while he slept, but he remained a total enigma. She still didn’t have a clue what went on in his head, but maybe that was for the best. They belonged in different worlds.
She told herself she was glad that he had rejected the chance to take any role in his child’s life. At least that meant she could keep him out of hers and out of her head too, she decided, pinning on a bright upbeat smile.
‘Keep the change,’ she said to the taxi driver as she handed him some money before vanishing into the mass of other pedestrians. Today had been a big mistake, but she was over it, and him, already.
CHAPTER SIX
SAM glanced at her watch before she knocked on the door of the editor’s office—damn!
