Page 45 of Lovers' Dance

He ignored my shouts to be released and headed for the door.

“Our bags,” I yelled, head bouncing over his back. “Matt, put me down this instant.”

“Salve, Signor Bradley, e bene avere qui.”

I jerked at the sound of a strange male voice, then frantically tried to maintain an upside down one-armed hold on Matt while tugging my dress down tight.

“Good morning, Antonio. Our bags are back there. I trust everything is prepared as to my specifications?”

“Si, si, Signor Bradley.”

“Capital,” Matt replied as he adjusted my weight on his shoulder. “Have lunch prepared for around one. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

My head bounced as Matt strode to the open door and entered the house. The upside down view I had probably didn’t do it justice, but I did like the marble flooring.

“I’m going to be sick,” I warned, hoping the threat would cause him to release me from the undignified position I was currently being held in. The rush of blood to my head, the bumping into his back as he easily took the stairs, the champagne I had imbibed during our trip here…it would serve him right if I hurled all over his ass.

“Here we are, poppet.”

“Oof.” The air hissed out of me as I was unceremoniously dumped on top of a huge bed. The room spun crazily for a second while I began to berate him. “You are the most insufferable man—” My words were cut off as he climbed on top of me and devoured my lips with his own.

“Is that any way to talk to your knight?” he teased. Matt was pulling his shirt off, while I lay dazed beneath him. It was embarrassing the way his kisses left me speechless. “Oh, poppet, we’re going to have fun this week.”

He stopped talking, finding something else far more enjoyable to do with his mouth, and I forgot why I was mad with him moments later…

“I’m going to crash your boat, Matt,” I called in warning, glancing over my shoulder to where he lounged reading papers. His wind-tousled head rose up for a moment, calculating the distance between us and the oncoming boat.

“You’re fine, Madi. Keep your heading straight.” He resumed his reading.

I grimaced behind my shades and spat curls out of my mouth. The wind was picking up even though the early morning skies were bright blue without a cloud in sight. I had no idea what I was doing, so I maintained my death grip on the wheel and hoped to God we didn’t crash. Matthew Bradley was the craziest man I’d ever encountered. And the sweetest, I mentally added, while marvelling at the sparkling ocean and the other boats around. A girl could get used to this lifestyle. It was day three into our holiday and I was having the time of my life. Matt’s whole demeanour had undergone a startling transformation. He was so relaxed one would be forgiven for thinking narcotics had played a part. I took another look over my shoulder, experiencing a spurt of girlish delight at the man who had whisked me away from the mounting stress in England. He had picked up a golden tan over his muscular body, and the dark-blue swimming shorts he wore seemed to make it more apparent. The wind blew through his black hair, playfully whipping the silky locks around his head. A memory of his strong arms wrapped around me had me squirming in my bikini bottoms. The realization that I was stupidly falling for him had dawned yesterday morning when we’d been having breakfast. Matt had plucked a flower from the vase in the centre of the table and tucked it behind my ear before finishing his cup of tea and disappearing with Antonio to discuss the water levels under the house. It wasn’t really a house, more like a palatial abode for a rock star. I was afraid to touch anything for fear of breakage. Matt thought it was cute the way I minced around his vacation home. Antonio wasn’t the only member of staff at our disposal. There was a woman, Rosa, whose job was chef maid; how she did it all, I had no idea. And an old man, Franco, whose job I hadn’t guessed, was always hovering around and reminded me of an Italian version of George.

“Eyes front, Madi,” Matt murmured, peering at me from over his shades. I stuck my tongue out at him, but resumed staring frontward at the open waters, death grip in place. The approaching boat was almost upon us, and I let out a high-pitched squeal which had Matt tossing down his newspapers and hurrying over.

“Relax, poppet.” he said, coming behind me and resting his hands over mine on the wheel. I exhaled in relief as the boat went past without collision, letting my body melt against Matt’s and thoroughly enjoying his breath fluttering over my ear. “You’re a natural.”

I scoffed in disbelief, then asked, “What are we doing after sailing?”

“Mmm, I can think of a few things,” Matt murmured, while dropping one hand to my hip.

“Nuh uh, mister. All we’ve done for the past three days is laze around in that palace of yours and eat pasta.”

His touch on my hip became insistent. “Best three days of my life so far.”

I laughed at that, got a mouthful of hair and spluttered unattractively. Matt fiddled with the ties on my bikini bottoms, and I promptly smacked his hand away. He sighed loudly before putting it back on the wheel, taking control of the boat with me standing in the circle of his arms.

“We’ll go into the city today, if you want,” he said in a long-suffering tone.

“I want,” I replied, turning around to face him. The reflection staring from his shades surprised me. That couldn’t be me. I looked damned happy.

Heartache, heartache, a shitload of heartache, my mind chanted mercilessly.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you shopping in Milan. Would you like that, poppet?”

I reached up to slide my shades down my nose. “Which woman wouldn’t? But I’m not spending a ridiculous amount of money—”

“You won’t have to spend a penny,” he interrupted.

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