Fling in Paris Read online

  Sal and Vinnie had brought their wives as well as their children, a group of darling boys and girls that had stolen her heart with their large, innocent eyes. They were still fairly young, and weren’t able to speak English fluently, but that hadn’t stopped them from dragging her into the sand with them. She’d spend the last hour getting buried in the sand, and before that they’d built a spectacular castle.

  “You’re very good with children,” Roberto remarked, settling down beside her in the sand.

  She turned to him. He looked good enough to eat as he lay there smiling at her, his tousled black hair falling in his eyes, muscular body showcased to perfection as he was only clad in a pair of green and white swim trunks. His skin was even more bronzed than it had been before, which was no surprise considering the number of hours they’d spent in the sun—she’d probably turned a shade or two darker herself.

  “I’ve always wanted to have children,” she confessed. “Although if I ever do get around to having my own I’ll find out that I’m actually horrible with them—that’s just my luck.” She laughed awkwardly.

  Roberto brushed a lock of curly hair away from her face, and Sherry’s breath caught at the tender look in his eye. “I’m sure that’s not true, bellisima. You will make a great mother someday, I have every confidence.”

  He leaned over to grab something out of a nearby wicker basket, and she took the opportunity to admire how his pectorals rippled and flexed like liquid gold in the afternoon light. When he turned back, there was a bottle of coconut oil in his hand.

  “Would you mind if I used this on you?” he asked. “It’s very good for the skin.”

  “Sure.” Sherry smiled, then rolled over onto her stomach and undid the strings holding her purple bikini top together. Eyes closed, she felt more than heard Roberto shift so that he was leaning over her. She heard the slosh of fluid as he poured some coconut oil into his hands, then moaned as said hands started rubbing it into her back.

  Roberto worked the oil into her skin, his hands gliding up and down her back, arms and legs. He’d meant this as a simple gesture of affection, but the feel of all that smooth, chocolaty skin beneath his fingers, plus the little sounds she was making as he gently massaged her skin, were driving his crazy. His cock strained beneath his fingertips, wanting release. But he couldn’t just fuck her on the beach—his nieces and nephews were twenty feet away, for God’s sake.

  However, he knew very well that giving was just as good as receiving when it came to pleasure, and he could certainly give that to Sherry. With that in mind, he slid his hands under her torso and cupped her breasts.

  “Roberto, what—” Sherry started, and then moaned as he rolled and pinched her nipples. His fingers were still coated in coconut oil, making the sensation even more wicked than usual. She felt his knees on either side of her hips and lifted them so that she could feel his engorged cock pressing through his swim trunks. “Someone’s horny.”

  Roberto hissed as Sherry pressed her luscious ass against his cock, and he leaned into her, grinding himself against her cheeks. She felt way too good; he wanted to fuck her right now in front of God and everybody, and that just wouldn’t do.

  “Oi, Roberto!” Sal called, and he quickly slipped his hands away from Sherry’s breasts. “You and your lady want to come and play beach ball with us?”

  “Maybe later,” he called back, forcing a smile—it wasn’t Sal’s fault that Roberto couldn’t keep his hands to himself, even if he did want to shove that rainbow-colored ball up his ass for interrupting. “I want to spend some time relaxing right now.

  Sal winked, having a good idea of what Roberto’s idea of relaxation entailed—they were brothers, after all—and turned away to gather up the rest of the family for the game. Thankful that his brother understood, Roberto stood up and dragged Sherry to her feet before tugging her further along the surf.

  “Where are we going?” Sherry asked, sounding breathless—and Roberto knew it wasn’t from the pace he was setting.

  “Somewhere more private.”

  He rounded a corner, then sighed in relief as they came upon a secluded area, hidden from the public eye by a well-placed sand dune and some palm fronds. It had been a long time since he’d last been here—he used to bring girls here during his younger days—and he’d been worried that he wouldn’t be able to find it.

  “So you have a secret hideout,” Sherry said, sounding amused.

  “You could say that,” he agreed before kicking his foot out and tripping her. Squealing, she latched onto his arm and they both tumbled into the sand. They grappled playfully for a few moments, but pretty soon they were breathing heavily again, running their hands all over each other’s body in ways that had nothing to do with wrestling.

  With a quick tug at the stings holding up the flimsy triangle of cloth, he bared her pussy and then entered her in one quick, smooth stroke. Her legs latched onto his waist, drawing him close as her back arched and her breasts pressed into his chest.

  “Fuck yeah,” Sherry groaned as Roberto pounded his cock into her. “Just like that. Oh, just like that.” His fingers curled into her ass cheeks, gripping hard enough to leave bruises, and she could feel the sand abrading her skin. None of that mattered though, as long as he was fucking her. God, she was going to die if he didn’t keep fucking her.

  “Harder, please!” she gasped, scoring his back with her nails as she positioned her hips, trying to increase the friction.

  “Like this?” he growled, slamming him cock even harder inside her, loving the way her tight little pussy clamped down on it, creating the wonderful friction they both craved so desperately.

  “Yes, yes, oh yes!” He swooped down and captured her cry in his mouth as she came, her inner walls flexing around his cock, milking it, and he came at the same time.

  He really was never going to be able to get enough of her.

  “Sherry, will you marry me?”

  Sherry blinked, certain she hadn’t heard him right—they were both still coming out of their orgasmic daze, after all. “What?”

  He levered himself up on his elbows to stare down at her, and her heart sank as she got a good look at his eyes—they were deadly serious. “You heard me. Will you marry me?”

  Roberto did his best to keep his voice steady, even though he was trembling on the inside. He’d meant to wait until after he’d purchased a ring, but the moment had seemed so right, so perfect. She fit so perfectly together with his family, with him. Surely she realized that by now. She had to say yes.

  Instead, she scrambled out from under him, tugging her bikini back on. “This is some kind of sick joke, right?”

  “Excuse me?” he frowned, getting to his feet.

  “You can’t possibly think that I would marry you.” Sherry’s tone was filled with scorn, but on the inside she was screaming in panic. God, oh God. She knew this whole thing was going to backfire. Somehow, someway, she’d managed to make him think he was falling in love with her—and she was married! In a few months, she was going back to Toronto to patch things up with Nick. And Roberto was asking her to marry him?

  “And why the hell wouldn’t I?” Roberto took a step toward her, his cheeks flushed with color, his hands fisted at his sides. “You’re funny, smart, and sexy. My body burns every time I think of you. And my family adores you. You’re perfect.”

  God, no. She was anything but perfect. “I can’t talk about this.” Sherry backed up, nearly tripping over her feet. “I can’t talk about this.”

  The panic was rising up in her throat, choking her. Roberto took another step toward her, his expression livid. So Sherry did the only thing she could think of. She ran.

  Roberto stood and watched her go. He wanted to run after her, to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, but his legs had turned into stone, and remained rooted in the sand. It was probably for the best that he didn’t—fury gripped him so hard by the throat that he doubted he could form any words right now. It was best to
give her some space. Let the two of them cool down.

  Then they would talk, and he would make her see sense. Make her understand that she was the only woman for him. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Sherry cried the entire train ride back to France. The tears leaking out of her eyes seemed to come from her very soul, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t seem to stop them. It was like a giant wound was festering there and the more she tried to put it out of her mind, the more it hurt. She wished she could crawl out of her own skin, just so she could escape the pain.

  By the time she arrived at the Gare du Nord, her eyes were swollen, her tear ducts dried out. She kept her head down as she exited the train, not wanting to see the looks of curiosity and sympathy from the other passengers who had listened to her bawl the entire fourteen hours.

  Standing at the curb, she contemplated calling a cab, then fumbled her phone out of her purse and dialed Marie. “Please,” she rasped when her friend answered the phone—her throat was still constricted with tears. “I need you right now Marie. I’m at the train station.”

  Like a good friend, Marie held off the thousand questions Sherry knew were probably swimming in her mind. “I’ll be right there, mon amie,” she promised, then hung up.

  Numb, Sherry replaced the phone and sat down on a nearby bench to wait for her ride.

  She didn’t even notice the fresh tears sliding down her cheeks.

  Chapter 12

  “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Marie asked as she pressed a cup of hot chocolate into Sherry’s hands.

  Sherry took a sip of the hot chocolate, even though she could barely taste the flavor. The warm liquid slid into her stomach, but did nothing to dislodge the cold lump of metal that seemed to have taken up residence there. Neither did the blanket Marie had wrapped around her before settling her on the colorful tie-dyed couch—which of course, Marie had done herself. In fact, every single aspect of her friend’s apartment was hand painted and decorated, but that was to be expected since Marie was an artist.

  But even the uplifting colors and décor did nothing for Sherry’s mood. She still felt like she wanted to crawl into the sewer and stay there forever, never to be heard from again.

  Sherry patted the cushion beside her, and tried her best to formulate the best way to explain this as Marie settled herself down beside Sherry. Finally, she settled for the simple truth.

  “Roberto took me to meet his family in Italy, and then asked me to marry him.”

  “Oh, ma cherie,” Marie wrapped her arm around Sherry’s shoulder, drawing her close. “I’m so sorry. You haven’t told him about Nick yet, have you?”

  Sherry shook her head, turning her face in towards Marie’s neck. “I’ve been meaning to tell him, but every time I’ve tried to get the words out he manages to distract me by saying something that melts my heart, or by touching me until all I can think about is having sex with him.” Hot tears slid down her cheeks, soaking Marie’s pastel-blue blouse, she paid them no mind and continued to stroke her hair.

  “Je regret,” Marie murmured softly. “I am so sorry, Sherry. You told him no?”

  “Of course I did,” Sherry said bitterly. “And I broke his fucking heart. I could see it in his eyes, for a split second. And after that I could tell he wanted to strangle me.” She let out a choked laugh. “My God, Marie. I’m such a bitch. I’m a two-timing, cold-hearted, slutty bitch.”

  “You’re not a bitch,” Marie chastised her. “And if you were cold-hearted, you wouldn’t be sitting in my flat soaking my shirt with your tears.” Sherry reared back, mortified, but Marie grabbed her shoulder before she could pull away completely. “Mon amie, it’s alright—you don’t have to be ashamed. People make mistakes sometimes, and you’re human just like anyone else. I can understand why you didn’t tell Roberto about Nick before, and I don’t blame you. But you need to tell him now.”

  Sherry sighed, then reached up to wipe the tears from her face. “How am I going to tell him, Marie?” she asked wearily. “He was so angry when I left him. He’s going to be even angrier after I do this.”

  Marie handed her a tissue, and Sherry used it to blow her nose. “I cannot answer that for you,” her friend replied after Sherry threw the tissue in the trash, “but it’s not something you can run away from any longer. You’re only going to hurt him more if you do.” She paused. “Maybe if you can persuade him to hear you out, to listen rationally, it might not go so badly. If he loves you, he might very well understand.”

  Sherry laughed hollowly. “How can he understand when I don’t even understand it myself?” The tears began sliding down her cheeks again, and Marie pulled her close again.

  “Shh, cherie, shh,” Marie rubbed her back soothingly. “Don’t worry about it. Everything will be alright.”

  God, she hoped so. She really needed something to be alright, for once in her life.

  ****

  Sherry got out of Marie’s car and headed upstairs to her flat. The night she’d spent with Marie, enjoying glasses of wine and watching bad comedies had been somewhat therapeutic—she’d gotten away from everything for a while and simply enjoyed her friend’s companionship. It had been easier to do that than to stay in the flat that Roberto had helped pick out, and not to mention completely furnish for her. Oh God, this was a mess. He had done so much for her, and she had treated him like dirt.

  Stepping out of the elevator, she ran her hand nervously through her fingers as she thought about what she would do when she got to work. Should she tell Roberto right then? Or should she avoid him entirely and wait until the end of the day?

  The choice was taken from her when she opened her door and saw him standing just inside, immaculate in one of his business suits. His black hair was pulled back from his handsome face, which was currently set in hard, unforgiving lines. For the first time, she felt a tremor of fear as she approached him.

  “Good morning,” she said hesitantly as she stopped in front of him.

  “Good morning.” His voice was pleasant, but that hard, dangerous look glittering in his bright green eyes did nothing to dispel her anxiety. “And just where the fuck have you been, Mrs. Williams?”

  Mrs. Williams. It shouldn’t have hurt her that he was reverting to formalities, and she wasn’t going to let him see that it did.

  “Why don’t you come on into the living room, Mr. Zanetto,” she said smoothly, removing her coat and hanging it up on the rack by the door. “I don’t think we should have this conversation near the hall.”

  He followed behind her, and she could feel his gaze glaring hot, searing daggers of rage into her back. Balling her hands into fists, she did her best to hide the trembling that was starting, but it was hard when she felt so despondent. Roberto was already angry with her, and she hadn’t even started talking yet. Her legs nearly gave out from under her at the thought of what he might do after she finally told him.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, then gasped as he grabbed her by the arm and tossed her onto the couch. His grip remained firm as he lowered his body down next to hers, leaving her very little personal space.

  “Enough games, Sherry,” he growled, eyes boring into her. “Why did you run away after my marriage proposal?”

  “I—” Sherry tried to speak, but her throat closed up at the accusing look in his eyes.

  Roberto threw up his hands. “Sherry, I just don’t understand you. I could see why my proposal might’ve been a little sudden, and that you may not be ready for the idea of marriage since we’ve only known each other for short period of time. But I don’t understand why you left without so much as a note to tell me where you were going. My family’s been worried sick about you—the children cried for hours, thinking that you’d been kidnapped.”

  A pang of guilt struck her heart—she hadn’t given a thought to his family when she’d run off. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to worry your family. I honestly didn’t think they’d care that much.”
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br />   Roberto took her by the shoulders. “What do you mean? Couldn’t you tell how much they liked you, Sherry? They adored you. I adore you.” He searched her face, but all he could see was the rising panic in her eyes. She was sitting on something, he knew she was, and he had a feeling that whatever it was had been holding their relationship down from the very beginning. The panic had him holding his anger in check because he didn’t want to frighten her out of telling him, but he was frustrated that after all they’d done together, she was still hiding something from him.

  Sherry looked away. “Roberto, that’s the problem. You were never supposed to adore me. There’s no way I can marry you.”

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  “Because I’m already married.”

  He wouldn’t have been more shocked if she’d told him she was an alien from another planet. All he could do was stare at her and wait for the ringing to clear from his ears. She was married? All this time he’d been making love to her, catering to her hand and foot, and she was married? He’d introduced her to his family, for God’s sake. Shame flooded him at that very thought. How could he have been so blind?

  “The man at the Park,” he finally said. “He was your husband.”

  “He came to surprise me. I told him about you.” Sherry whispered, her eyes fixed on the ground.

  Roberto shot up off the couch. “Oh, so that makes it okay? You tell your husband that you’re having an affair, but you don’t tell the person you’re having the affair with?” He laughed harshly. “I thought it was supposed to be the other way around. My God, you’ve played me for a fool.”

  “What?” Sherry’s face came up, and Roberto could see the tears swimming in her eyes. He forced himself to ignore them.

  “You strung me along like a lovesick puppy!” he spat, dragging her to her feet and taking her by the shoulders so he could shake her. “This was all just a game, and you made me fall in love with you!”