Page 52 of An Italian Wedding Adventure

‘Yes. It would do you good to watch people defying their pride and their doubts and choosing love.’

Andreas needed to end this conversation before he started brooding about Rory Brent again. He didn’t want to know how much Sophie had loved him. ‘What I’ve gathered from Sophie is that weddings are about symbolism and floral arrangements. The love happens before – hopefully.’

The way his mother shook her head, he felt ten years old again. ‘You test yourself – over and over again – against geography, the elements, the natural world. You prove yourself that way, as much as it worries me that you never seem to have finished proving yourself. A wedding is like that, except for two people, for love. A wedding is proof.’ She sighed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘I hope that if you see the proof, you might believe in love after all.’

‘I know love exists. I don’t need proof,’ he insisted. The proof was back inside the apartment, having a cup of tea. He’d loved Sophie. There was no other explanation for that squeeze of desperation and that was how he knew it couldn’t be a long-term state for him. ‘Going to a wedding in Italian tailoring isn’t going to change anything.’ He thought briefly about that reckless bet he’d made.

‘Then it won’t hurt you to attend one – for her. I can only imagine how much your disdain for weddings hurts her feelings.’

He frowned, curious about his mother’s tone. She didn’t know Sophie had proposed marriage and he didn’t imagine Sophie would have brought it up while they were shopping. She had a point about hurting Sophie’s feelings, but that had always seemed inevitable.

‘One shopping date and you’re on her side? She knows it’s not personal,’ he ground out.

‘All right Andreas,’ his mother said with a deep sigh. ‘I know better than to argue with you. But if you won’t make compromises for Sophie, you have to let her go – for your own good as well as hers.’

‘I know,’ he said grimly. ‘I understandthatmuch better than you do.’ He’d let her go once and it had hurt like hell. Whatever they were doing right now – fooling around, being intimate again – he was dreading the end of it but determined to do it anyway.

After waving off his mother and sister where they’d parked their car, he trudged back through the narrow streets to the apartment. He was sick of making trouble for Sophie. She’d claimed he didn’t disappoint her, but how could he not? He wouldn’t even commit to attend someone else’s wedding when she might need him.

The Manaslu trip dangled in front of him as though it held the secrets to the meaning of life – his life. That’s all he was committing to right now.

Stomping up the old stone steps, he managed not to shove the door open despite his mood. Sophie looked up from her computer and a thousand thoughts rippled over him. Her smile was uncertain but so damn beautiful, his knees wobbled.

She wore a floral dress that draped over her shoulders. She’d tugged her short hair up with a clip and he just wanted to take it down and fist his hands in it. He wanted to fight with her – or have her fight with him, more specifically – and then kiss her, let this smouldering thing between them catch fire and worry about what would be left later.

With slow, purposeful steps, he approached her and drew her up out of the chair with a firm grip on her upper arms. Her gaze clouded, but she didn’t say anything, even when he drew so close, he caught the subtle scent of rose, which took him right back to that first trip together. He’d thought he’d gone crazy for that sweetness with a spicy, earthy note underneath, until he’d realised he’d just gone crazy for Sophie.

Stroking up her arms, across her shoulders up to her face, he felt her shudder. Maybe this would end in heartbreak sooner rather than later but touching her was the only way he could soothe the ache right now. When her hand came up to clutch his forearm for balance and her eyes shut, he knew exactly how she felt.

Her mouth dropped open and after one mingled breath, his lips found hers.

The kiss was long and slow and indulgent. They’d kissed thousands of times, but the wanting in this one made it feel like something new. He’d thought perhaps she should stop him, but she encouraged him instead, opening her mouth and making him groan, part of him still stunned by the fact that this wasSophieletting him touch her.

He hadn’t quite intended for it to happen, but a moment later, they found themselves exactly where they’d left off on Friday before Caro had interrupted, except on the kitchen table instead of by the door. And Sophie was wearing a soft dress instead of heavy-duty trousers.

His thoughts were mush as his hands tightened on her skin. It wasn’t supposed to feel so good. But when she clutched at him, he only felt better with each moment.

The zip of her dress came down and he found more skin to stroke and enjoy as the neckline followed.

‘I love this dress,’ he murmured as his teeth grazed the little bow on the strap of her bra, where the cup began.

She started to say something that he guessed would be nonsense, given the glaze over her eyes, but he hoisted her against him and she finished on a squeak. Tugging her arms out of her sleeves, she clung to his neck as he bore her into the bedroom, dumping her at the foot of the bed where he could continue exploring.

‘Tell me any time if you want to stop, Fini,’ he said, his hands inching the hem of her dress higher.

‘Don’t stop,’ she said emphatically.

* * *

Sophie’s head was muddled, her thoughts sweet and syrupy, as though Andreas had such a potent effect on her that she was drunk. She distantly remembered that there was supposed to be some danger here. She couldn’t fall in love with him again. Her heart couldn’t take another round against Andreas Hinterdorfer.

But whatever this round was –notlove, she insisted – he was winning it completely and utterly, and she was happy to surrender. They werebothwinning. So much for Andreas’s joking claim that climbers were bad in bed – always distracted or dirty or tired. He was none of those things as he dropped down between her legs and teased her and coaxed her to a peak that seemed to shudder through him as well.

She panted, getting her breath back, but she wanted him close, now. Forcing herself upright, she found enough presence of mind to help him with his jeans, her hands suddenly fevered.

He caught her chin briefly between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Hey,’ he said gently. ‘We can stop there if you like.’

Shaking her head vehemently, she peeled his T-shirt off, then pulled him onto the bed by his wrist. She paused to kiss him there, by the tattered leather bracelet, then in the middle of his palm. His unsteady breath sent a fresh shot of adrenaline through her.

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