Rebellion (A Dangerous Man, #2) (6 page)

His hand closes around mine before I get to the door.

“Sophie.” I turn around, hopeful, waiting for him to say
something, but he stays silent.

I pull my hand from his. “Don’t touch me.” I say, my voice
catching in my throat. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

He looks annoyed. “Stop being childish Sophie.”

His words are more hurtful than his silence, I turn from him
and rush towards our room. I need to get away from him. I don’t care where I
go. I just want to stop feeling as if I’m drowning in emotions I can’t control.

“Sophie, for God’s sake.”

I hear him, but I don’t stop. I rush through the bedroom
towards the closet. The thought of leaving him fills me with physical pain, but
I can’t stay with him if he won’t even talk to me.

He catches up with me before I get to the closet door. He pulls
me into his arms, crushing me to his chest. “Stop,” He whispers in my ear,
“Stop.”

I close my eyes, losing myself in his embrace, realizing, as
I breathe in the scent of his skin, and feel the warmth of his arms around me,
that I could never leave him, not when he can make me feel like this. I melt
into him, so overwhelmed by the depth of my emotions, that I can feel the
wetness of tears in my eyes.

He starts to stroke my hair, and I press myself to his
chest. I can hear the rhythm of his heart beating. In this moment, it feels as if
he’s mine, as if the deep longing I feel for him is being fulfilled. But I
can’t be sure, I can’t be sure until he tells me how he feels.

“Why did you marry me David?” My voice is hardly higher
than a whisper.

He pulls back a little, looking down at my face. “Because I
wanted you,” He says, stroking my arms. My skin tingles where his fingers touch
me, and I feel the last of my resistance melting. “I wanted you the moment I
saw you standing outside that little shop in that small town, looking so lost
and alone. I wanted your innocence, your beauty,” he leans over and drops a
soft kiss on the sensitive corner of my lips, “I wanted your body Sophie, I
wanted to see your face when I make you scream my name.”

His words set a desperate fire to my blood. I lean into him,
hungry for him. When it comes to this, I can’t fight him. I make one last
attempt. ‘You didn’t have to marry me,” I whisper, “You already had me.”

“And then I wanted no one else to ever have the pleasure.
Understand that Sophie,” He says, moments before his mouth descends on mine in
a scorching kiss. “You are mine.”

My body melts and I press myself against him, aching to give
him everything I am. I want this. I want him to belong to me, even if only for
these few moments.

Soon my clothes are on the floor, and his soon follow. He
carried me over to one of the two armchairs in the room and sets me down,
kneeling on the floor between my legs. I wrap my legs around his waist and
press my body against him, rubbing myself against the hard swell of his
erection. I want him so much I’m aching. Impatiently, I use my hand to guide
him inside me, moaning as his tip slides into my body.

He grips my ass and lifts me off the chair, pressing me
towards him as he enters me all the way. My whole body weakens and I fall
against him with a low moan. He moves out and plunges into me again, and I cry
out, my body shaking. He continues to move, each stroke of his rock hard shaft
driving me to a pleasurable madness.

Later, when I am weak from my climax, he carries me to bed,
stroking my hair as we lie side by side on the bed, my head resting on his
shoulder. I can’t help wishing that we would always be like this.

“You know,” He says musingly. “I owe you a honeymoon.”

“Yes you do,” I agree, “Somewhere that will ‘blow my mind’”
I tease.

“Is there anywhere in particular you would like to go?” He
doesn’t stop stroking my hair.

I sigh. “I would go anywhere with you.” I tell him, and I mean
it.

He turns over, until he is leaning over me. The kiss he
gives me is gentle and undemanding. I close my eyes. I can almost feel my
consciousness dissolve into him. I’ve lost myself, I think. This is how love
feels.

“I think I know just the place.” He pauses long enough to say
before starting to kiss me again.”

“I thought we were going out for dinner,” I ask
breathlessly, when we stop for air.

“Forget dinner.” He says, his lips dipping to my breasts,
and in a few moments, I have.

~§~§~§~§~

In the morning, David is in his study arranging our trip,
while Mrs. Daniels and I pack a few clothes.

He has refused to tell me where we’re going. Even when I
asked him what I should pack. “Just a few things,” He’d replied, “You’re not
going to be dressed most of the time.”

I’ve succeeded in pushing all thoughts of Carole Banks to
the back of my mind. I don’t want to think about her, or about the NDA. I don’t
want anything to ruin my happiness.

“Won’t you tell me where we’re going?” I ask David later, as
Steve drives us to the airport.

“I like to keep you guessing.” He replies. He’s wearing
jeans and a white T-shirt, with a black leather jacket, he looks so young and
cool, I have to hold myself back from slobbering all over him. We pass through
cursory security checks at the airport, after which we go out to his plane,
which is waiting for us on the runway. I feel like a star as I stroll to the
plane, hands linked with David’s, my halter neck dress flowing in the breeze,
my eyes covered by wide sunshades.

A pilot and steward greet us as we enter the plane. The
interior is luxurious. The main cabin is superbly furnished with comfortable looking
couches, and well placed coffee tables. There is also a private bedroom, with a
bathroom and closet space.

We take off after an immigration official comes to check our
passports. I give him my new passport, still unable to believe how quickly it
was prepared. An agent arrived in the apartment in the morning with some forms,
and watched me fill and sign them. A few hours later, the passport arrived by courier.

The plane sails smoothly through the air. If not for the
puffy white clouds I can see through the windows, I can actually forget that
we’re flying. I stretch happily, taking sips from the glass of white wine the
steward serves me.

“It must be exciting travelling like this all the time.” I
tell David.

He looks up from the newspaper he’s reading and shrugs. “Yeah,
probably.”

I roll my eyes at his nonchalance, and he gives me a teasing
smile.

I spent the next few minutes bugging him about where we are
going. When I finally fall asleep, he still hasn’t given me any clues.

When I wake up a couple of hours later, I’m lying in David’s
arms on the bed in the private cabin. He must have undressed me, because I’m only
wearing one of his t-shirts and my panties. Beside me, he is asleep.

The cabin is dark, but I can see his face in the faint light
of dawn stealing in through the windows. I trace a finger along his chin,
marveling at how handsome he looks while sleeping, boyish, careless, and
relaxed, with his thick hair tousled and all over the place.

His wakes up and stares at me groggily for a moment before
the film of sleep clears from his eyes.

“I hope I haven’t grown horns.” He says.

If only he knew. “You’re still not going to tell me where we
are going?’

He shakes his head and pulls me toward him until I’m lying
on top of him.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m getting impatient.”

In response, he pulls my face down and kisses me. “I can
distract you.” He offers, grabbing my butt and rolling until he’s on top of me.
I start to laugh, but he silences me with his lips, kissing me until laughing
is the farthest thing from my mind. He makes slow love to me, taking his time
as he initiates me to the pleasures of the mile-high club.

A few hours later, the plane lands in Italy. We shower in
the small but well equipped private bathroom, and get ready to disembark. As we
go through customs, I discover that David speaks flawless Italian. He’ll probably
never stop surprising me. I decide.

“How many languages do you speak?” I ask him, curious.

He grimaces slightly. “A few,” He tells me. “French,
Italian, enough of Russian and Spanish to have a sensible conversation.”

I’m staring at him, mouth open, “and that’s a few?”

He winks. “I know, I’m incredible.”

I giggle at his words, allowing him to lead me out of the
airport.

We’ve landed in Florence. It’s very early in the morning, so
the city is still asleep as the black SUV that picks us at the airport drives
through it. We travel through the countryside with me dozing on David’s
shoulder. It’s just getting light when we arrive at our destination.

The car drives through a pair of wrought iron gates, and
down a paved driveway, which ends in a circular cul-de-sac, with a stone
fountain in the middle. The house beyond the driveway is a stunningly beautiful
villa. In the early light, I can see the tiled terracotta colored walls,
elegant white-painted stone arches, and the lawns that surround it, bounded by
groves of trees.

I step out of the car, marveling. I turn to David. “Do you
own this place?” I ask.

“We own this place.” He replies, making my heart expand. He
takes my hand, and we walk inside the house hand in hand.

Inside, it is charmingly furnished and spacious, with French
windows leading to outside terraces from almost every room on the ground floor.
Upstairs, our bedroom has a marble bathroom and an attached study. I gaze out
of the windows at the countryside as the orange light of morning comes over the
hills. It’s too beautiful for words.

“You are too rich.” I accuse him.

“I think that’s an oxymoron.” I turn to him and see that he
is teasing. I laugh softly, and he joins in my merriment. Suddenly I feel so
incredibly happy.

I go into the circle of his arms. “I hope you’re not tired.”

“I’m not.” His eyes twinkle, as he leans back to look into
my face. “Why?”

“Because I have a burning desire to make love to my husband,
in our beautiful villa in Italy.”

“I’m never too tired to fulfill your desires.” He says
capturing my lips in a lush kiss. We sink unto the bed,  oblivious to anything
else but the pleasure we know we can give each other.

T
HE NEXT TWO WEEKS ARE THE height of bliss. The villa is
fully staffed and stocked for our arrival. There is a cook, a maid, and a
gardener, all Italian. They don’t speak a word of English between them, so
David does most of the talking. The first evening, we have dinner in the small
town closest to us, and attend a Puccini opera about a Japanese girl in the
turn of the century Japan, who kills herself out of love for an American
soldier. I leave the opera crying even though I didn’t understand any of the Italian
words.

We also visit the marble caves where Michelangelo is
supposed to have gotten the stone for his famous sculptures. Some days, we
drive to Florence in the Audi Convertible David has in the garage, where we
visit galleries, museums, and landmarks, enjoying the experience of being
anonymous tourists, as we walk around hand in hand, dressed casually in jeans,
t-shirts, and sunglasses.

A few afternoons, David has to take long phone calls from
the office. I try not to mind, because I know how busy he is. Luckily, I
brought my sketchpad along, so while he works, I draw.

“So I’m going to be one of those men married to famous
artists,” David teases me one day, looking over my shoulder at my work.

“Maybe I’ll be so successful, you’ll have to quit your job
and let me support you.”

He laughs as he looks through my finished drawings. “A life
of ease,” He says musingly. “I ought to take you up on that.”

Towards the end of the first week, we have a visitor, a
charming Italian called Carlo Marconi, he lives near Florence, and was at
Harvard with David. He arrives for lunch with his wife and two small children,
and we eat on the terrace overlooking the lawns and the trees that stretch as
far as the nearby town. After lunch, while the children run around playing,
David and Carlo exchange stories of their college days, and a summer spent in
Italy with Carlo’s family. Carlo’s wife Gina and I laugh cheerfully at their
stories, but I can’t take my eyes off my husband, I have never seen this side
of him. He looks so relaxed.

“You two look happy.” Gina tells me, in lightly accented
English. “David especially, I have not seen him like this before.” She pauses.
“You are good for him.”

And he is good for me, I think in silence. “I’m glad you
think so.” I reply.

She shrugs. “Love can change anyone.” She states, smiling at
me. The children are demanding to be let into the pool. I smile back at her as
we go to prepare them for a swim.

~§~§~§~§~

Back in Seattle, David has work to catch up on, I don’t
mind. My life feels charmed. Even though he still hasn’t said anything about
love, I feel more secure and happy in our relationship. I feel loved, and that
means a lot to me.

I seem to have made a lot of friends in my absence, probably
due to the fact that there has finally been an announcement in the newspapers
about our wedding. While David leaves immediately for work, Mrs. Daniel’s
cheerfully hands me my mail, mostly invitations, requesting my presence at a
variety of events.

I go through them, wondering which ones to accept and which
ones to put under consideration. At times like these, a girl needs her mother
or her mother in law. I’m thinking of calling David’s mother when my phone
rings.

“Hey.” It’s David. Even after two weeks when I’ve had him
all to myself, the sound of his voice can still turn my insides to liquid.

“Hey.” I reply.

“Would you like to go to this charity thing tonight?” He
asks, “A dinner to raise money for the alliance for education.”