Page 19 of The Roman's Woman (A Singular Obsession)

Against her back, Gio trembled and swore in Italian, something unintelligible and harsh. One arm wrapped around her forehead—a shield from the wall as he collapsed, pushing her against the rough concrete.

His lungs worked like a bellows in the silence that followed.

They stood there for an eternity, trying to find the strength to stand and part their bodies. She was still resting her forehead against his arms when bits of awareness started to trickle back. A distant part of her brain was processing and cataloging each sensation; the warmth of the male body behind her and how sensitive her palms were from being abraded by the concrete.

He slipped out of her and, still slightly numb, she staggered upright. A cooling trickle ran down her leg. The realization they hadn’t used protection hit her when another seemed to occur to him. He turned her around, his face shocked and pale.

“We had sex in an alley.”

His voice sounded strangely hollow, almost stunned.

Dumbly, she opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He stood there staring at her so she nodded. It seemed to snap him out of his stupor. He took off the jacket of his suit and draped it over her shoulders.

Looking up at him, she caught sight of some movement in a window over his head and flinched. Someone in the second story of the building was watching them from behind a thin curtain.

She put both hands over her mouth, mortified. Gio glanced behind him. He must have seen the same shadow because put his arm around her to hustle her away. At the mouth of the alley, he stopped and whipped out a smartphone, a newer and more advanced model of the same phone she had. He hit the speed dial and spoke to someone in rapid Italian.

Absently fingering the soft lightweight wool of the suit jacket, Sophia was still in a daze when a shiny black town car pulled in front of them. Gio opened the door and helped her inside, speaking to the driver.

“Do they have Uber in Italy?” she asked drowsily, noting the fineness of the car’s leather interior.

The driver was probably using his personal car to make money like they did in the States.

“Um, there are services like it,” he answered evasively.

“Are you taking me back to the hotel?” she murmured, leaning on his shoulder.

“You’re takingmeback toyourhotel,” he corrected, putting a finger under her chin so she would meet his eyes.

He smiled at her. “The story of our first time as lovers does not end in analley.It starts there.”

Chapter 7

An unfamiliar warmth at his side woke Gio up. Bemused, he lifted his lids slowly. The sight that met his eyes sent a charge of adrenaline through him, waking him more effectively than ten shots of espresso.

Sophia was lying next to him, her glorious caramel curves barely covered by a rumpled white cotton sheet. One arm was thrown on the bed over her head, her fingers curled against the mattress. The heavy lashes of her eyes rested on her flushed cheeks.

With her hair mussed and that color in her cheeks, she looked like they’d just finished making love. He glanced at his watch. It had only been a few hours since the fourth, and final, round.

Gio laid his head back on the pillow and grinned. Last night had been the most passionate and carnal experience of his life.

Images filtered through his head. He’d wasted no time trying to fulfill every fantasy he’d had of Sophia since the foundation dinner. However, she became shy once they were back in her room. He’d had to start over. Not that he minded. Seducing her slowly was exactly what he’d wanted from the start—he needed to savor her after the quick, but mind-blowing, encounter outside the club.

Sophia had blushed pink as he stripped that black silk dress from her glorious body. That color had deepened into a fiery red as he did what he’d been dying to do since he had first seen her. He kissed every inch of her, suckling her breasts and clutching handfuls of her luscious ass as he rode her. Moments passed before she tensed all over and climaxed with a sob.

It was crazy. None of his old insecurities had surfaced, no malicious words had echoed in his head. His sole focus had been on Sophia, and her pleasure. Everything had fallen into place. It had been both natural and so fucking intense, like being on some sort of mind-altering drug.

Instinctively, he knew his life had changed forever. Now, he needed to convince Sophia that hers had too.

Merda.

His breath caught, and he sank deeper into the bed. She still thought he was someone else. He had lied to her, and then bedded her under false pretenses.

He’d sworn to tell her the truth before it got that far, but kept putting it off. Getting to know her, talking to her, making her laugh, had become his priority. Most of the time he’d been able to pretend and push the guilt out of his mind, telling himself he was waiting for the right time.

Unfortunately, he wasn't sure when that was going to be. The situation in the press had grown steadily worse in the past week. Enzo had kept him updated about the latest slurs. One tabloid rag had quoted an anonymous source, a former trusted friend of his, that claimed Gio had not only emotionally abused his ex-wife, but he’d pimped her out to his friends and acquaintances.

He didn’t have to guess who the “friend” was. After all, he had caught Maria Gianna with Vincenzo Gavazzi himself. Enzo was verifying the source’s identity before Gio committed to a course of action. And that needed to be soon. It was only a matter of time before Sophia found out on her own. His picture was plastered on newsstands right now, for crying out loud.

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