An Italian Affair Read online

  He smiles, his hand returning to my cheek. “How about we just forget about him for tonight?”

  His voice is almost seductive, but it’s also sincere and it succeeds in calming me a little. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to go and get some food. Do you have any preferences?”

  “I’m good with anything. Let me go and get my purse,” I say, but he just smiles and shakes his head.

  “It’s on me. I’ll be back soon.”

  I occupy myself by scraping cheese and pasta from the walls until Matteo returns. By the time I get it all off, it’s soggy and the wall is stained slightly.

  What the hell am I doing? I ask myself for the thousandth time. Why am I letting this man, who claims to be my husband, do this to me? What am I becoming? I can feel the tears beginning to well up in my eyes again, but this time I manage to stop them before they fall. When Matteo returns I’m hunched over the sink, scrubbing the plates and trying to prevent pasta from clogging up the drain. He lets himself in and coughs quietly to let me know that he’s back. When I turn around I’m pleasantly surprised to find him carrying two large pizza boxes. He sets them down on the table and walks over to the bottle of champagne in the cabinet beside me which, thankfully, remains untouched.

  “Can I open this?”

  “Why the hell not,” I say with a smile. “It was supposed to be for a special occasion, but fuck it. Pour me a glass.”

  “I will try to make tonight special for you,” he says, opening the bottle and carefully pouring each of us a glass. “I hope I can succeed.”

  It is evident that English is not his native language — his formality is astounding, and many words are pronounced incorrectly, but somehow he pulls it off. It’s almost kind of cute. My insides feel warm and fuzzy again, and I can’t wipe the smile from my face as I sit down opposite him and watch him open the boxes of pizza. Suddenly, I can’t take my eyes off him. I’m watching every little thing he does, analysing it, admiring his movements. I’m craving another kiss like the one before, craving the feeling of his skin on mine. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself. I just want somebody to love me and show me affection, and I want Matteo to be the one to do it.

  The conversation starts off slowly. We make small talk about our day, and I ask him about how the garden is going. He responds enthusiastically, saying that he’s making good progress and it shouldn’t take as long as he originally thought. I act excited and happy, but I can’t help my stomach from sinking a little.

  Although he’s only been here for a day so far, I actually like having Matteo around. I’ve been so used to my own company that I forgot what it feels like to have someone there for you. And even if he’s only here out of politeness, I don’t mind. I don’t want him to leave.

  “I want you to stay.”

  He looks up at me, but doesn’t say anything. His icy blue eyes are heating up my skin, and I can feel myself blushing. He puts down his pizza slice and takes my hand from across the table. His fingers are warm and a little greasy, but I grip them hard.

  “I will stay for as long as you need me to, Kelly,” he says. I feel my lips quivering slightly, and only seconds later the tears are falling again, faster and heavier than last time. Then his arms are around me again, scooping me up and holding me close to his chest. I lean up and kiss him again, this time without hesitation, and I don’t stop. He doesn’t stop either, he just grabs me tighter. After a moment or so I can feel him walking, and before I can gather my senses, he’s lowering my down onto my bed.

  My heartbeat quickens as he climbs on top of me, straddling me and pinning my shoulders down with his strong arms. I can see his muscles twitching through the thin fabric of his shirt, sending a wave of adrenaline coursing through my body. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull his head down until my lips are touching his ear. “Make love to me.”

  Even I know how ridiculous I sound. Of course this man does not love me, but neither does my husband. But at least this man wants me more than my husband does. And right now, all I want is to be wanted.

  “I have never made love before,” Matteo replies, sweeping back my long brown waves with a single tanned finger. “But I can fuck real good.”

  I pull his white linen shirt from his body with a single sweeping motion and throw it down the side of the bed. He winks and follows my lead, lifting my dress over my head and throwing it behind him so that I’m left with only my underwear to conceal me.

  “You are beautiful,” he says, leaning forward and forcing me onto my back. He kisses my forehead, then slowly trails his lips downwards, lingering on my own lips to slip his tongue inside my mouth. He tastes sweet, like champagne. I expect him just to lie down and kiss me, but his lips continue southwards. When they reach my neck, every single hair in my body seems to stand on end in unison. I let out a soft moan to let him know that I like it, and he carries on kissing, his teeth occasionally grazing my skin and sending a fresh wave of pleasure searing through me.

  I reach out and take his hands with mine so that our fingers are interlocked, and slowly guide them to my breasts. His breath hitches as I make him touch me, and his hips slam down into mine so he’s now resting his entire weight on me. He’s heavier than I had expected, but it feels good, and I like how much power he has over me. He moves his lips back up to mine and we resume kissing, except this time he is massaging my breasts, circling my nipples with his thumbs. All the while he mumbles sweet nothings into my mouth.

  After a while I begin to slide my hands down his body. I can feel him squirming under my touch, and my heart begins to pound at the idea that I could ever excite him as much as he excites me. Hooking my fingers to the waistband of his jeans, I slowly begin to slide them down. He is a few inches taller than me so I don’t make much progress, but he understands my hint and immediately raises his hips to allow me to pull them down the rest of the way, and then kicks them off the bottom of the bed.

  I can feel his hard cock pressing against me through our underwear when he relaxes his hips again, and so can he, because he immediately begins to grind against me. It starts off slow at first, but gradually he picks up speed. I open my legs wide and wrap them around his body, pulling him closer to me. He seems to like this, because he begins thrusting his hips much faster now, and I can’t help myself from joining in. His mouth is right next to my ear, and I can hear him grunting with each thrust as he rubs his erection against my clit.

  “I want to be inside you, Kelly,” he growls suddenly, moving his head down to my breasts and beginning to tease my nipples with his tongue. I let out a groan of satisfaction, at which point he immediately moves his head back up so that he’s staring into my eyes. His expression is wild, his eyes intense. “I want to remove every trace of that pathetic excuse for a husband you have from your body; I want you to be mine.”

  His words drive me wild. Never have I felt so wanted, so desirable. I leap up from underneath him, forcing against his weight with all of my strength and pinning him down to the bed underneath me, crushing his lips against mine. He lets out a groan and frees one of his arms from my grip with ease, and then uses it to guide my hand to his cock. His boxers are already wet with pre-cum from grinding against me, and I can feel them getting wetter at my touch.

  I begin to move my hand along the length of his shaft, and he slides a hand down my stomach and under my frilly lingerie until his fingers are on my clit. He bites his lip as he rubs me, his bright eyes still piercing into mine.

  “You are so wet,” he mumbles, freeing his hand from my underwear and bringing it up to his mouth, pressing his fingers against his lips and then slowly sliding them inside. His eyes close as he does so, and I tighten my grip on his cock. But he can’t keep his hands off me for long, and before I know it his fingers are inside me as he fucks me with his hands. I let out a groan and arch my back, releasing my grip on his cock and thrusting my hips wildly against his hand.

  This does it for him. Within seconds my underwear has been ripped of
f and I’m on my hands and knees while he kneels behind me, forcing his cock into my wetness.

  “I can’t control myself any longer,” he gasps. “I need you.”

  “Fuck me,” I manage to croak, my voice almost as weak as my knees. He does as I ask, and I groan as he fills me. When he’s comfortably positioned he begins to fuck me, and I can feel my ass jiggling as he repeatedly slams into me.

  “You have such a sexy ass, Kelly,” he growls, slapping it so hard that he makes me yelp. “I could fuck you all day long.”

  “I’ll let you,” I gasp, raising my hips higher to encourage him.

  Fuelled by excitement and anticipation, we move in unison on the bed, groaning and panting and sweating as our orgasms build. But just as I can feel myself beginning to climax, he stops. He hasn’t come yet, and at first I worry that I’ve done something wrong. Yet before I have a chance to ask I can feel his hands on either side of my hips, forcing me onto my back. I let out a yelp as my body hits the sheets. My eyes are open just far enough to see him leaning over me, forcing my legs further open with his arms.

  “I want to see your face when I’m coming into you, and I want you to see mine. I want you to know exactly how you make me feel.” He pins my hands down with his own, our fingers intertwined again, and slides his cock back into me. The creaking of the bed is drowned out by our desperate gasps as we reach the climax.

  “Fuck me harder,” I groan, grabbing his shaking arms and pulling him towards me. A small smile appears across his face and his bites his lip, his thrusts deepening.

  “I’m going to come,” is all I need to hear from him to tip me over the edge, and I pull him in to kiss me as the orgasm takes control of my body. My hips are shaking, my back is arched so that my breasts press into his chest, and my heart is thumping against my ribcage. And then I lie still, savouring the moment as he empties his warm come into me and then collapses with his face buried into my breasts.

  We lie there for a few moments, sweating and panting but still kissing each other. I’m unsure where my body ends and his begins, but I can’t bring myself to move. I could lie underneath him all night, gazing into those cool eyes and listening to his heart beating hard against mine. But my fantasy is interrupted as pulls away from our kiss and props himself up on his elbows. His eyes flicker open, and I immediately feel myself beginning to melt under his gaze.

  “You fuck very well,” is the first thing he says, and I can’t help myself from laughing.

  “Thank you. You are not so bad yourself.”

  He brushes a loose strand of hair out of my eyes and leans down to kiss me once more, then pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I should be going now,” he says, glancing at the clock. I follow his gaze. What? 11pm already? I yawn, suddenly aware of how tired I am. He gets up to leave, but I grab his hand and pull him back.

  The words come out before I know what I’m going to say. “Stay.”

  He furrows his eyebrows. “Stay?”

  I nod. After what just happened between us, the thought of spending the night alone is almost unbearable. “You can resume work in the garden first thing in the morning.”

  He seems to consider it for a moment, but shakes his head. “Your husband.”

  “No,” I say, fully aware of how desperate I’m beginning to sound. “He won’t come back, I promise. Just stay.” I can’t promise such a thing, of course. Hell, he could be back at any moment — for all we know he could be sitting in the kitchen right now listening to our conversation — but right now I’ll say anything to make him stay. And it works.

  “I will stay if you want me to, Kelly,” he whispers, moving closer and kissing my forehead. “Shall we sleep?”

  I nod and he pulls back the covers so I can slide in, then he turns off the light and slides in beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Thank you,” I whisper, burrowing my face into his neck.

  He falls asleep before me and I lie listening to his breathing. I think back to this time last night when I was lying here listening to my husband’s breathing, and I suddenly realise how much I’ve been missing all these years. My horrific misconception about my husband, my first and only true love, has just hit me: I don’t love him, and I never did.

  Chapter 4

  I awake to the sound of my husband’s voice. At first it startles me and I get up with a jolt, ready to wake Matteo — but he’s nowhere to be seen. Unsure whether to feel panic or relief, I scramble out of bed and into the kitchen, where David is talking on the telephone, a cup of coffee in hand. He frowns at me as I enter. “Thanks, I’ll call you later,” I hear him say before he ends the call. He looks stern, almost angry as he takes a sip from his cup. Shit.

  “Who is this man?” He asks curtly, pointing out the window into the garden. Although I’m already pretty certain that it’s Matteo I crane my neck, pretending to act uninterested. Double shit.

  “Oh, him? He’s just the gardener?” I can hear my own heartbeat, and for a second I worry that he can hear it too. Did David find him in my bed? Did Matteo confess what happened between us last night? I gulp.

  He raises one eyebrow. “We have a gardener now?”

  “Yes,” I shrug. “The garden needed a little extra attention, so I thought we could use a gardener. I can feel my cheeks beginning to flush, but thankfully he’s turned away to rinse his cup in the sink. For once, his lack of interest in my daily affairs works to my advantage.

  “How’s business?” I ask as casually as possible, desperate to change the subject. I sneak a quick glance out of the window when he’s turned away, only to notice that Matteo is looking right back at me. It’s much hotter today than yesterday, but he’s wearing a tee shirt now.

  “Same as usual,” David grunts, taking out his phone and beginning to dial a number. “I’m having some people over tonight for a barbecue. There’ll be some pretty important people there, hoping to make some contacts. You up for it?”

  I nod. Do I have a choice? Then he walks out of the room, his phone pressed to his ear. “I’m going to go out and get some food. I’ll be back soon, alright?”

  “Alright,” I say, secretly relieved that I can have some time alone with Matteo. I run out into the garden as soon as I hear the back door slam, and he smiles as soon as he sees me coming towards him.

  “Good morning, Kelly, did you sleep well?”

  “Very well, thank you,” I say, biting my lip. “Much better than I’ve slept in a long time, in fact.”

  “Good.” His voice is warm and soothing.

  “What time did you wake up this morning?” I ask, glancing back at the house to make sure that David hasn’t returned for any reason.

  “About six,” he says after a short pause. “I wanted to make sure that your husband didn’t catch us. He got back around half an hour after I got up, I think we were lucky.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “I don’t know what I would have done if he had caught us.”

  Matteo shrugs. “He came into the garden early this morning and demanded to know who I was.”

  My heart stops for a second. “What did you say?”

  “I said I was your gardener.”

  “Did he buy it?”

  “Well, it’s kind of the truth,” he says, grinning at my evident panic. “So yes, he did buy it. He doesn’t like me though, I can tell.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugs. “Dunno. I can just tell by the way he speaks to me.”

  “I think he talks to everyone like that.”

  “I doubt it. Does he speak to you like that?”

  “He doesn’t really speak to me very much at all, actually.”

  “Oh.” There is a long pause before I speak again.

  “I’ll let you get on, then,” I say eventually. “We’re having a garden party later, perhaps you can attend?”

  “Perhaps,” he says, turning around and picking up his watering can.

  The majority of the day is taken up by work. One of the blessings of my job
is that I get to work from home, but today it seems like more of a curse — despite usually being able to work for at least three to four hours without needing a break, today I get up every hour to go and make a coffee. Of course, all I really want is an excuse to stare at Matteo out of the window, but I keep that to myself. After all, what’s the harm if he doesn’t see me?

  David returns several hours later with bags of shopping and piles them on the kitchen table. They’re brimming with every barbecue food imaginable: steak, chicken, beef, burgers, cheese, onions, sweetcorn, peppers, and alcohol— lots of alcohol. I pack it into the fridge as he unloads the bags.

  “Who’s coming tonight?” I ask.

  “There’ll be lots of people. Mostly neighbours and work colleagues and a few other friends.”

  I nod, secretly bitter that he didn’t give me the chance to invite anyone — but then again, I suppose he has a good reason for it. After all, who would I invite? Matteo?

  “The gardener has been working hard,” I say. “He’s been here since the early hours of the morning out in the garden.”

  “I can see that,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion.

  “Shall we invite him tonight?”

  He just shrugs. “Do whatever you want. Just make sure he doesn’t cause a commotion, I’ve got some important people here tonight and the last thing I want is to be shown up.”

  “Why would he cause a commotion?” I ask, confused.

  He doesn’t answer. “Go and get dressed, they’ll be here in about an hour.”

  It takes me about half an hour to get dressed. I decide on a short taffeta cocktail dress and a white pair of sandals. My long brown curls are pinned to one side, and I can feel them brushing against my back as I run across the grass to Matteo. David is still inside, he’s been getting ready for longer than I have.

  “My husband is hosting a party tonight for some guests from work. Will you come?” I ask as he turns around to greet me.