Unfortunately, Alessandro’s elation didn’t last long. By the time he’d finished reading to Julian –Juliano!– he was seething with frustration. It shouldn’t be this hard to call his son by the name he had been christened with. It shouldn’t feel so unnatural. He wanted to kick things, yell, shake his fist at the sky. He was so angry with Camilla for dictating the parameters of their lives so stringently.
But more than that he was angry with himself because he’d let her do it, he’d chosen the path of least resistance and that was a hard truth to face.
He stalked out of Juliano’s room, bristling with restlessness, wanting to ignore everything that had happened in the past and his part in it. Needing to absolve himself. Needing to forget.
Nat. He needed Nat.
He wanted to tumble her into bed, pound into her, make all the thoughts that circled endlessly in his head, like vultures around prey, go away. She’d help him to forget, if only for a few hours.
She always helped him forget.
Was that right? Was it healthy? Was it fair? No to all three. But the fact was, she calmed him. She seemed to be able to see inside him to all the jagged parts. To understand that situations often weren’t black and white. To see that he was trying.
And he needed that now. He needed her to look at him like he was worthy of her time and attention, because stumbling over his own son’s name had stirred so many bitter memories and let loose the guilt and he couldn’t bear it.
He found her drying off her wet hair in the shower, another towel wrapped around her body. He took three paces across theroom, pulled at the knot holding the inconvenient fabric in place watching it fall as he dragged her naked against his fully clothed body. Just seeing her cooled the demons. Having every part of her aligned with every part of him was like a soothing balm.
Like they… fit.
‘Alessandro?’
He lowered his head not wanting to answer whatever question she was asking. His breath raged in his lungs and his heart raced in his chest as he claimed her mouth in a kiss bordering on savage. But she didn’t protest; she gave, she welcomed, she responded, twisting her head to give him all he needed, clutching at his shirt for purchase. His tongue thrust inside her mouth and she opened to him on a whimper that tore an answering growl from the back of his throat.
His senses filled up with the clean, soapy smell of her – a stark contrast to the dirty treachery of his thoughts but nonetheless intoxicating. Hell, he could barely think for the pheromones that were clogging his senses.
Walking her backward, Alessandro didn’t stop until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the vanity. Pulling away slightly, his breathing harsh, his hands kneading her bare buttocks, he muttered, ‘I need you.Now.’
His lips brushed hers with every desperate word and he could see right into her eyes. See that they sparked with the same kind of fever he knew she must be able to see in his. He could see she wanted this as much as he did. That her chest heaved as much as his did, that her pupils were large, dilated pools of lust.
And yet she took a beat. Placed a stilling hand against his chest. ‘What’s wrong, Alessandro?’
Her palm on him was light, he could have easily ignored its barrier, but her gaze, despite her desire, was determined. His arms tightened around hers momentarily before he gavea frustrated sigh and stepped back, cursing her internally for being so damn shrewd.
For being what he didn’t even know he needed.
Raking a hand through his hair, his eyes skimmed her body and, hell, if his desire for her didn’t treble. ‘Nothing,’ he dismissed, reaching for her again.
She sidestepped, evading his touch. ‘Alessandro?’
He heard the warning note in her voice despite the mesmerising sway of her breasts as she moved. Then she shook her head and rolled her eyes, reaching for her night shirt hanging over the towel rail and threw it on over her head.
‘Better?’
Alessandro shot her a grudging smile. ‘No.’
She sent him a reproving look and crossed her arms patiently. It occurred to him that he could just turn and leave but… he didn’t want to. He wanted to be here, with her.
Shoving his hands in his pockets he eyed her looking so cool and collected, even with her hair wet from the shower and her mouth wet from his kisses. ‘It feels so… strange calling him Juliano. So…foreign. And it shouldn’t. He’s half Italian, damn it. It should come naturally.’
Despite the raging hard-on pressing against his zipper, Alessandro felt utterly impotent at how he’d ended up here. Damn Camilla and their screwed-up relationship. Rubbing at his forehead, he continued, trying to explain. ‘He was christened Juliano. Camilla insisted on it.’
‘Camilla’s her name?’
Alessandro nodded as he shoved his hand back in his pocket. Had he never mentioned that before?
‘So,’ she said, tentatively, a slight frown pleating the space between her brows, ‘why is he called Julian?’
Alessandro snorted. Because it was just one of the ways Camilla had screwed with him, made him pay. But he couldn’tsay that to Nat because as far as she was concerned he was still in love with his wife and what kind of a man did it make him to admit he wasn’t?
