Riccardo's Secret Child Page 8

  Had he just done what she thought he had? Had he actually caressed her ear? Julia realised that her feverish imagination was now making her actively hallucinate and she gratefully clutched the lifebelt he had thrown her, nodding vigorously in favour of the food option. In fact, she was hungry. Or, at least, she had been when she left the house.

  They retired to their table and whilst they waited for their food to arrive Riccardo chatted pleasantly enough about anything and everything under the sun. Anything and everything that had nothing to do with Nicola. Talking about Nicola revived all his old anger at how he had been treated, kept in ignorance of her existence, and with the anger came the inevitable tension. Riccardo didn’t want tension. Not right now. He had other plans in mind.

  So he laughed and chatted and asked her questions about herself, whilst plying her with drink.

  For the first time, the issue that lay between them like a yawning chasm faded into the background as Julia relaxed and told him about her childhood, omitting all mention of Martin. Slightly tipsy she might be, but she was aware of the temporary truce he had declared and she was willing to go along with it because he had been right. She had not gone out and enjoyed herself for quite a while, and it had been over a year since she had gone out on a date with a man. Kind, thoughtful Tim, who had turned from lover to friend to acquaintance all in the space of a short six months. It seemed to be her track record. No wonder her poor mother thought she would never settle down. No wonder, in her most private moments, she herself had her doubts.

  ‘You’re not drinking,’ she accused when their main course had been cleared away and she had ordered a cappuccino in the hopes that it might sober her up a bit.

  ‘I’m driving, remember? The two don’t mix.’

  ‘And I’m talking all about myself. You haven’t told me anything about you.’ Talking about herself? She had been positively garrulous, she thought wryly. What was it they said about alcohol loosening tongues? And with Riccardo, of all people! She had probably been boring him stiff, with her anecdotes about family life and school, but he had been too polite to divert the flow of conversation.

  She waited until her coffee arrived and then drank it very quickly.

  ‘What would you like to know?’ he asked, watching her flushed face and the way she had the quirky habit of shoving her hair behind her ears when she felt nervous.

  ‘What have you been doing since…is there anyone in your life? I never even thought to ask when I came to see you.’

  ‘Is there anyone in my life…?’ Riccardo drawled, sitting back and loosely linking his fingers on his lap. ‘Right now I can say with my hand on my heart, that the only female in my life is Nicola. And yourself, of course.’

  Yes, and for all the wrong reasons, Julia thought. She felt a puzzling sting of pain.

  ‘You never thought about…getting married again?’

  ‘You have obviously never been through a divorce. Believe me when I tell you that it is one of the most powerful reasons for doubting the institution of marriage. I learned to my cost that the state of wedded bliss can turn two people into strangers and from strangers into hostile opponents.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘Not that I would want to put you off.’

  ‘It can be bliss for some,’ Julia pointed out. ‘My parents were very happily married.’

  ‘As were mine. I guess you just have to say that it’s a game of hit or miss, wouldn’t you agree? But then again, what relationship isn’t hit or miss?’ He toyed with his coffee-cup and then took a sip. She had talked to him about her childhood, about what it was like being a teacher, about some of the plays she had seen, the restaurants she had been to, but she had said nothing about the men in her life, and Riccardo suddenly had a burning curiosity to find out about that private side of her. She was as contained as all his previous lovers had been obligingly informative. She retreated with the same speed as they had advanced.

  ‘Shall we dance?’ he asked lazily, upturning his hand and waiting for her to accept the invitation.

  The dance floor was slightly less crowded than it had been, although the level of noise was higher, a muted but background surge of voices and laughter as the alcohol consumption increased and inhibitions diminished.

  The tune carried a more upbeat tempo, and Riccardo swung her towards him, his long legs carrying the tune, his hips grinding gently against her body, his arms circling her back giving her no room to establish any space between them.

  Julia felt heady and recklessly alive. It was warm in the room and a fine film of perspiration made her skin tingle.

  ‘So tell me about your love life,’ he whispered. ‘Do teachers have love lives? I never used to think so at school until I was fourteen and had the pleasure of being in a class with a very voluptuous science teacher. I never realised how fascinating physics could be.’ He laughed softly at the memory and Julia’s lips curved into a smile.

  ‘I can’t imagine you taking apples in for your teacher,’ she said.

  ‘Perhaps not the apples but some highly charged fantasies. Until I discovered that she had a husband and a child, at which point I was cured of my adolescent infatuation and started concentrating my charged fantasies on slightly more attainable goals.’ His mouth brushed the vulnerable curve of her neck. Any ideas about seduction to even a score had disappeared. He had wanted to taste that soft skin, had just not been able to resist.

  Julia’s breath caught in her throat. No, she most certainly had not imagined that. But she didn’t want to stop him. He was turning her on and she wanted him to carry on turning her on. Three glasses of wine had put paid to her reservations.

  ‘So does this teacher arouse fantasies in schoolboys?’ he asked, his breath warm in her ear, tickling.

  ‘Eight-and nine-year-old boys don’t have fantasies,’ she murmured, her face tilted so that her cheek pressed against the smooth cotton of his shirt. ‘Or, at least, not of the nature you describe. I think their fantasies run more along the lines of joining the football team or acquiring a new computer game.’

  ‘Shame. And what about your male teachers? Do they look slyly at you when you walk into the staff room? Do they entertain thoughts of stripping you naked and watching you come to them?’ He was treading a very fine line here, he knew. He had never dreamed of asking any of his past conquests whether men had fantasised about them. Their responses would have been tediously predictable. A coy laugh and the knowing look in their eyes that told him just how fanciable they knew themselves to be, just what they could do for him.

  He enjoyed knowing that his risqué questions were probably throwing her into a tizzy of embarrassment and confusion. The lighting was too subdued for him to see whether she was blushing or not, but he would put money on it. He discovered, with a pleasant little jolt of surprise, that the thought was electrifying.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Julia laughed nervously, feeling out of her depth now with this turn in the conversation. ‘We only have three male teachers. Two are over fifty and the third, from what I gather, enjoys going on wildlife tours more than he enjoys going out with women. We think he might well be gay.’

  ‘Hmm. That’s not very stimulating, is it?’ He dipped his hand just slightly under her blouse so that his fingers brushed her spine. ‘So where do you go to find men who don’t enjoy wildlife tours and might not possibly be gay? Mm?’

  ‘I don’t have much time to go scouring the city of London for men,’ Julia replied vaguely. Teachers were, at least at her school, a fairly sociable lot and her last boyfriend she had met through a friend. It was a subject she did not want to talk about because she knew that he would begin questioning her, and in so doing would discover her appalling lack of an exciting sex life. She had never felt the sizzle of instant attraction, preferring to cultivate a friendship before launching into the dubious waters of romance.

  ‘It’s very warm here, isn’t it?’ she said, desperately trying to find a way of diverting the course of the conversation, and she was relieved when he ag
reed with her instantly.

  ‘So shall we go back to the table?’

  ‘I have a better idea. Why don’t we wander outside for a while? The gardens at the back are quite extensive, believe it or not. One of the advantages of not having a nightclub in the heart of the city. And I could use a bit of cool air.’

  Julia hesitated, but in the end she followed him out of the club and round the side, where the thought of cooling off had occurred to a number of people. On the way, they had collected her jacket from where it had been discarded by the table and their waitress had obligingly placed a reserve sign on the table.

  The cold air hit her face like a balm and she stood still for a minute, breathing it in with her eyes closed, unaware that he was watching her and the way her slightly old-fashioned outfit emphasised the slenderness of her body. She had a naturally boyish build but seemed refreshingly unaware of how many women would have given their right arm for it. Almost no curves, he thought. Or none that was immediately apparent, although the feel of her breasts on the dance floor, pushing against him, was evidence enough that she was all woman.

  He led her past the small groups of people cooling down after the heat inside, and towards the back garden, which was landscaped cleverly to convert a modest-sized plot into the illusion of a small copse. The ground was laced with trees, some evergreen, some bare of leaves, with intriguing, winding paths running between them.

  ‘Perhaps we should head back in,’ Julia said nervously as the solitude of their situation hit her. In summer she had no doubt that this garden would be teeming with people relaxing outside with their drinks before returning to the music and food, but in early March most people did not fancy the prospect of dawdling outside.

  The cold was already beginning to bite through her thin jacket, and she pulled it tighter around her.

  ‘Cold?’ he enquired. In the absence of light, he was just a big, shadowy figure.

  ‘A little.’

  ‘There is that age-old technique for warming up,’ Riccardo murmured, stepping closer to her, and Julia blinked furiously behind her spectacles. He ran his hands up and down her arms and felt a rough, primitive urge sweep over him. In every way she had played with his life, turned it on its head, and in more ways than one she had played with his mind, turning his hard-edged dislike into unwilling curiosity, taking the revenge he had coolly plotted and changing it into a genuine quest to control a woman who remained infuriatingly out of reach.

  She looked at him. ‘I don’t think Management would like it if we lit a fire out here.’

  Riccardo grinned, his teeth a sudden flash of white in the shadows. ‘You’re right. They might complain. Besides, I have no matches, have you?’ He could feel her shivering beneath his hands. ‘Nor do we have sun and a magnifying glass.’

  ‘You were a boy scout?’

  ‘Hardly.’ He laughed softly. ‘I just read a lot of useful books when I was a kid. I fancied myself marooned on an island, having to survive.’

  There was a brief silence, during which they looked at one another, a brief, charged silence, pregnant with the possibilities of the moment.

  Then he lowered his head and his mouth met hers. He had not realised the depth of his hunger to taste her lips until he felt hers cool and yielding. Her hands remained clasped protectively around her body as she inclined upwards to him.

  ‘I can’t do this with…these on…’ He removed her spectacles and Julia whimpered at the brief interlude. She no longer cared about keeping her distance. She was waiting, no, yearning for him to kiss her again, and this time, as his mouth sought and found hers, she returned the kiss, her tongue sliding against his, her lips parted to receive his searing, hungry caress.

  He pulled her arms away from her body and, with his hands behind her buttocks, pushed her towards him, grinding her so closely against his body that she could feel his hard erection pressing against her.

  A wild abandon coursed through her veins and she moaned as his teeth nipped the arched column of her neck.

  Her breasts were aching with the need to be touched, and as if sensing this, Riccardo shoved his hands up the silky top until he felt their soft swell under the strapless lace bra. He felt like a man making love for the first time. Every movement was fuelled with desperate urgency. He didn’t want to gently make love to her, he wanted to take her right here and right now and satiate the primal urge tearing him apart.

  With one swift movement he dragged the strapless bra down so that he could massage the twin peaks of her breasts with their tight, protruding nipples. As he massaged them she groaned with pleasure and every groan urged him on.

  ‘Touch me,’ he commanded, circling her wrist with his hand and guiding it to where his throbbing manhood needed the cool touch of her fingers. He unzipped his trousers and as she gripped his stiffness through his silk boxer shorts she gave a little cry of desire.

  ‘Feeling a little warmer now?’ he asked, punctuating the warmth of his breath in her ear with the damp coolness of his tongue.

  Julia was beyond answering. The gardens could have been designed, she thought wildly, for this type of activity. The trees were a natural barrier against prying eyes and the scattering of benches a welcome respite for unsteady legs. Riccardo led her to one of these benches, and when she had sat down he splayed apart her legs and positioned himself between them, then he lifted her vest. Her bra was still pulled down and her breasts spilled over the top of it, forming erotic points that reminded him of nothing more than ripe fruits. Ripe fruits ready for eating, which was what he intended to do.

  With a stifled groan he buried his face against her breasts and began sucking, and her hands, hesitant at first, curled into his dark hair while her body slid down the bench until she was arching back to enjoy the erotic sensuous pleasure he was giving her.

  She had no idea how this had happened and she didn’t care. She had no experience of this sort of raw, carnal lust and she was a willing student. In fact, more than willing—eager. With her head thrust back, she blindly cupped her other breast, offering it to his greedy mouth and she kept her hand there as he suckled, the tip of his tongue flicking erotically over her engorged nipple.

  When he removed his feasting mouth she felt the cool air against her bare skin and she twisted in protest, but he was already rucking up her skirt, and Julia’s eyes flew open in shock.

  He raised his head and smiled wolfishly at her. ‘When you say no, do you mean no? Or do you mean yes, please?’

  Julia pulled up her bra and shoved down her top but her frantic efforts at rearranging herself stopped there. She looked at him, ready to explore the most intimate region of her body in a way no other man had, and was rocked by excitement.

  ‘I don’t think…’ she panted breathlessly. ‘We can’t…I’ve never…’

  ‘Never felt a man’s mouth down here?’ To demonstrate the place he meant, he pulled aside her briefs and cupped her with his hands, pressing down until she squirmed. ‘And do you want to?’

  ‘We should go back in…side…’

  He didn’t answer. Instead he bent his head closer to her, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in the musky, womanly scent of her, fragrantly enticing. A thought flickered through his head and was gone before it had time to register. The thought that what he was doing was somehow dangerous, except how could it be? He was in the driving seat and fired with the need to possess. For the first time with this woman, he was on ground with which he was familiar. He would have preferred to have been making love in his king-sized bed in his apartment, but this had a thrilling feel of the stolen moment. He felt like an adolescent and that in itself was so novel a feeling that he thought he should not wish it away.

  ‘If you really want to go inside,’ he said unsteadily, ‘then, of course, we will.’

  Julia twisted like someone in the grip of a fever, a movement he took as surrender, and he lightly skimmed his tongue along the crease of her womanhood, her gasping shudder making him give a grunt of exquisite sat
isfaction.

  He intensified the pressure of his tongue, pushing it deeper within her and holding her firm as she bucked against his hands. It was every bit as erotic as he had imagined it would be. More. He could feel every thread of shock in her at what he was doing and, even more powerful, the need for him to continue. He moved his tongue up and down, sliding into her moistness and licking the tiny bud that had her convulsing with lust.

  She curled her fingers into his hair and tugged, her hands pleading with him to stop because he was driving her crazy, but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to take her to the brink and then complete their lovemaking by thrusting into her, like a stallion, so that he could see her face when she reached the dizzy heights of her orgasm.

  It took a while for the sound of voices to penetrate Julia’s numb, giddy world. It was only when the woman giggled, a high-pitched sound that drifted through the trees and insinuated that another couple had obviously come out for precisely the same as she had been doing, that Julia jerked up and back into the world of the living.

  She stared down in horror at Riccardo, barely able to vocalise, but he was already standing up, cursing under his breath.

  Julia sprang to her feet and tidied herself with trembling hands.

  She had no idea what to say. What was there that she could possibly say? She must have gone completely crazy. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him and had turned to head back hurriedly into the club, when he stopped her.

  ‘Don’t think you can run inside and pretend that none of this happened,’ he grated harshly, furious at their interruption. He had been as fired up as she had been and could already see that she was retreating. Dammit, he was not going to let her retreat on him!

  The amorous couple had obviously heard their voices and vanished into another part of the garden, as eager as they had been for privacy. Julia felt sick. Sick with shame and mortification and utterly bewildered by her behaviour.