The Passionate Italian 11 DECEMBER EPUB Read Online Free PDF

beyond it—to where the truth lay.
    But there was no understanding, only a scornful look that showed her exactly how little he cared for her. It was all simply a matter of pride.
    “You left me because of another man.”
    “Stop it, Giovanni. Stop it.”
    “I should never have left you alone those last six months. I knew it. But you insisted.” He turned with a look of disdain on his face. “So much for your declarations of love, you probably couldn’t wait to fall into someone else’s arms. Shame you didn’t choose your boyfriend with more care. Your feelings obviously weren’t reciprocated.”
    “Giovanni! It wasn’t like that.”
    “Rose, it must have been, because there is only one reason why you will not tell me the truth. And that is because I will not like it.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “And, I do not like it.”   He turned helplessly away before facing her once more. “Go. Go to bed.”
    She rose and shakily walked to the bedroom. She closed the door softly behind her and climbed into cool sheets and cried like she hadn’t cried since she’d left Italy.

CHAPTER THREE

    “Rose.”
    His voice—distant and yet penetrating—filtered into her dream and became a part of it.
    She smiled at him, searching for a response, but it was as if he couldn’t see her. He called to her again, turning his head, searching but unable to find her. And yet she was standing directly in front of him. So close that she could see the panic in his eyes. But she was unable to quell it. Her voice was dumb and her body invisible to him. Blank terror seized her and she tried to grab his arms, tried to bring his body against hers.
    She relaxed when her arm clutched heated skin. She could feel him. It would be all right. She leant in against him and could have wept with relief.
    “Rose.” The voice came again. “Rose, wake up, you’re dreaming.”
    The dream faded slowly and the reality of the low roar of the jet filled her ears. She was still trembling with the fear of her dream, fear of losing him. It wasn’t the first time she’d had the dream. She’d usually awoken to find herself outside on the beach, her body chilled by the night air and sea spray.
    She was suddenly aware of the warmth of his body against her cheek, of his arm around her, protecting, caressing. She cried out as the intensity of her dreams collided with the intensity of her reality. She pushed herself away from him and he let his arm drop.
    “I’m sorry.” She thrust one shaking hand over her face and through her hair, desperate to regain her composure.
    “You cannot help your dreams cara mia. Lie down again. Rest.”
    “Stupid,” shaking her head. “Just a stupid dream.”
    “It must have been a bad one, you were scared of something. What was it?”  
    She shook her head. How could she tell him that she was scared of being nothing to him, of losing him, when that was what she’d sought two years ago when she’d left him.
    “Nothing.” She looked up at him suddenly. “Did I say anything when I was asleep?”
    “No. And you did not sleepwalk either. Must be the first time. I used to enjoy your nightly excursions.”
    She felt herself blush at the memory. Embarrassment at being caught sleepwalking had always been followed swiftly by love-making, wherever she’d happened to wander.
    “I’m glad someone did.”
    He reached out and tucked a long, curling strand of hair tidily behind her ear. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy making love with me, Rose, because I won’t believe you. You wanted me always.” His eyes lazily searched her face, confident and amused. “Even now, behind this cool façade, you want me still.”
    “In your dreams.”
    “No, cara, in yours.”
    He smiled, and with his fingertips swiftly traced the curve of her face, her cheekbone, down to her mouth. Here, his smile dropped suddenly and Rose saw the dark of his eyes widen. Her breath quickened in response. His eyes flicked up to hers and they