Gaetano pulled on boxers on the grounds that it never paid to take anything for granted with women and that doing so only annoyed them. Poppy emerged from the bathroom wearing what could only be one of his tee shirts because it hung off her slender frame in loose folds. Even so, it still couldn’t hide the prominent little peaks of her breasts, the womanly curve of her hips or the perfection of the long shapely legs below the hem.
‘I have a suggestion to make,’ Gaetano murmured huskily.
‘Do I want to hear this?’ Poppy wisecracked, pushing back the bedding and scrambling into the bed, feeling her limbs settle into an incredibly soft and supportive mattress that was a far cry from the ancient lumpy bed of her youth. Wearing only silk boxers Gaetano was an outrageously masculine presence and very hard for Poppy to ignore. She was trying to respect his space by not looking at him and hoping he would award her the same courtesy of acting as though she were still fully clothed.
‘We have to pretend to be lovers,’ Gaetano pointed out.
Wondering in what possible direction that statement could be travelling, Poppy prompted, ‘Yes...so?’
‘Why don’t we make it real?’ Gaetano drawled, smooth as melted honey.
Her vocal cords went into arrest and respecting his space suddenly became much too challenging. ‘Real?’ Poppy exclaimed loudly. ‘What exactly do you mean by real?’
‘You’re not that innocent,’ Gaetano assured her lazily as he sprang into bed beside her.
‘So, you’re suggesting that we have sex because you don’t fancy celibacy?’ Poppy enquired, delicate auburn brows raised in disbelief.
‘We are stuck in this situation,’ Gaetano reminded her.
‘I can live without sex,’ Poppy told him tightly, feeling colour climb hotly towards her hairline because even saying ‘sex’ in Gaetano’s presence made her feel horribly self-conscious.
‘I can as well but not happily,’ Gaetano told her bluntly. ‘We’re very attracted to each other. We might as well make the most of it.’
‘Any port in a storm?’ Poppy remarked without amusement. ‘I’m here in the bed and, as you see it, available, so I should be interested?’
Gaetano leant closer, his stubbled jaw line propped on the heel of his upraised hand as he gazed down at her with absolutely gorgeous dark golden eyes. ‘I’m good, bella mia. You wouldn’t be disappointed.’
Poppy was as frozen with fear as a woman facing a hungry cannibal might be. But insidious heat and dampness were welling in the tender place between her thighs, striving to work their wicked seductive magic on her resistance. In fact she could feel her whole body literally wake up, sit up and take notice of Gaetano’s offer. He was offering her what she had once desperately wanted but on terms she could never accept. ‘I don’t want to be used.’
‘I’m surprised you’re so narrow in your outlook. Wouldn’t you be using me to scratch the same itch?’ Gaetano enquired softly.
Her whole face flamed and she flipped over on her side, turning her narrow back defensively on him. Get thee behind me, Satan, she thought helplessly. ‘No, thanks,’ she said chokily, unsure whether she wanted to laugh or cry at his blunt proposition. ‘If I want meaningless sex I imagine I can get it just about anywhere.’
Gaetano stroked a long brown forefinger down her taut spinal cord. ‘Sex with me wouldn’t be meaningless. It would be amazing. You set me on fire, gioia mia.’
Poppy rolled her eyes. He was so slick and full of confidence but that caressing touch lingered with her, lighting up little pockets of melting willingness inside her treacherous body. ‘I’ll keep it in mind. If my itch has to be scratched I will seriously consider you,’ she lied stonily.
‘What more do you want from me?’ Gaetano asked silkily. ‘I’m honest. I’m clean. I don’t lie or cheat.’
‘It doesn’t stop you from being a four-letter word of a man,’ Poppy told him roundly. ‘I thought Italian lovers were supposed to be the last word in seduction. You just turned me off big time.’
‘I was respecting your intelligence by not shooting you a line,’ Gaetano traded with husky amusement that laced through his dark deep drawl in a sexy, accented purr.
Poppy pictured herself flipping over and slapping him so hard his perfect teeth rattled in his too ingenious head. Her own teeth gritted aggressively. Without warning she was also imagining easing back into the hard, allmale heat of him while his arms closed round her and his hips moved against hers. And that sensual imagery was so energising that she felt boiling hot all over. Her nipples swelled and prickled and the heat in her pelvis mushroomed. Her face burned with shame in the darkness. Wanting was wanting, she reasoned with the sexual side of her nature, but it wasn’t enough on its own. Gaetano wasn’t the man for her, she reminded herself doggedly.