‘I should confess that there’s no revolving door when it comes to women,’ he said seriously. He reached out and curled his finger into a strand of blonde hair and then stroked the side of her face and watched as she caught her breath, nostrils slightly flaring and a soft pink creeping into her cheeks. ‘I’ve made sure to be very selective when it comes to the women I’ve dated in the past. I may not want commitment, but neither am I the sort of guy who would pick up someone on a Tuesday and replace her on a Friday. I treat women with respect and honesty. They know where they stand with me.’
‘I believe you,’ Sophie said simply, and he smiled.
‘Sure?’
‘One hundred per cent. I may not...’ She looked away with difficulty, but she was so aware of his finger resting on the side of her face, lightly brushing, that she could scarcely breathe at all. ‘I may not be looking for a relationship either, but there’s no way I would even contemplate...doing anything with you unless I knew that you were a good guy. I made a huge mistake with Scott, but I was in a bad place,’ she continued, speaking her mind aloud, mulling over the surprising realisation that she had spoken more to Niccolo than she had to anyone else about what life had been for her over the past year and a half.
‘You were vulnerable,’ Niccolo said softly, ‘and it was your bad luck that someone was waiting in the wings to take advantage of that, but there are always lessons to be learnt from miserable experiences. You’re made stronger by what you went through, not weaker.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled wryly. ‘You’re a philosopher as well as everything else.’
‘Everything else?’ he teased. His dark eyes were lazy and unflinching. ‘You need to be sure that you want to do this, Sophie. Are you?’
Sophie felt a second of giddiness, as though she was looking down a vertiginous drop into a black hole, then she made her mind up and took his hand in hers and kissed it.
‘Never more sure of anything in my life.’
The next few minutes passed in a daze. Was this the same Sophie who had been so racked with anxiety and so full of sorrow only weeks before?
How could she be discovering what recovery felt like with this man? In these circumstances?
Was that what made it feel right? Being here?
His suite was bigger than the one she shared with Annalise, a sprawling affair with two outside rooms and a massive bathroom, which she glimpsed as he nudged open the door to his bedroom with his foot. He hadn’t switched on any lights. There was no need because moonlight streamed in through the thick panes of glass, carried on a refreshing breeze. Overhead, a fan lazily circled, the only sound in the bedroom aside from the sound of their breathing.
Sophie drew in a sharp breath as he traced the outline of her small breasts pushing against the soft cotton of her blue summer dress.
Very gently he began to ease the dress off, the cotton slippery against her arms, against her ribcage, dropping until it was gathered at her waist, and then he stood back and looked, and in response she unhooked her bra from behind and tossed it on the floor without her hungry eyes ever leaving his face.
Her nipples stiffened as cool air hit them and she tilted her head back and sighed as he swept her off her feet and deposited her on the king-sized bed, from which advantageous position she could look at him through half-closed eyes as he began stripping off.
He was truly a thing of beauty. Moonlight, she thought wryly, became him.
He dumped his shirt on the floor then stepped out of his shorts and her eyes widened. She propped herself up on both elbows and shamelessly stared, and Niccolo grinned back at her.
‘I like the reaction.’
He moved towards her, pausing to flip open his wallet and rifle through it, then he joined her on the bed, big and muscular, his nakedness sending a tsunami of want and longing racing through her in a tidal surge.
‘Now I get to look.’ He tugged the dress all the way off and her briefs were scooped along for the ride as she wriggled free.
She knew that she should have been feeling shy and confused and maybe just a little bit hesitant.
She really wasn’t this kind of girl. She’d never had a one-night stand in her life. In fairness, she’d never felt this wild, intense level oflustin her life before either. She revelled in her nakedness. His dark eyes, roving over her, made her less inhibited, not more, and she wasn’t going to pretend that she wasn’t as turned on as he was.
Maybe it was months of sickening anxiety, but she felt a tremendous sense of release as he settled on the mattress alongside her and pushed her hair back to lightly kiss her forehead, her temple, the side of her mouth, his every gesture curiously gentle and tender.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured, half smiling.
‘So are you,’ Sophie told him truthfully, and he smiled more.
‘Your honesty never fails to surprise me. I don’t think any woman has ever told me that I’m beautiful.’
He covered her breast with his hand and rolled the pad of his thumb over her nipple, and Sophie’s eyes fluttered. She moved and moaned and then gasped when he took her nipple into his mouth and did something wonderful, tugging and sucking at the same time until she couldn’t keep still.
One hand curled into his dark hair, even as she arched up so as to intensify the pleasure of his tongue lathing her stiffened nipple while the other hand skittered over his back, tracing muscle and sinew.
His arousal throbbed against her and she parted her legs, feeling the wetness between them, craving more than just his mouth on her breast.
