Bound By The Marcolini Diamonds (The Marcolini Men Book 2)

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  As soon as his lips met hers, she felt as if he had turned a switch on in her body. It was programmed to respond to him and only him. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been kissed before, but never so thoroughly, and never to the point where her body melted like honey under a blow torch. She could feel the slick moisture of desire between her thighs, her intimate cleft swelling with need, the on-off pulse deep inside her aching for the delicious friction of his thick, hard possession. She could feel him against her, the outline of his maleness inciting her to kiss him back with heated fervour. Her tongue was stroking his boldly, her teeth tugging at his lips, both top and bottom, in little kittenish bites that brought a primitive groan of approval from deep within him.

  ‘Lei è una tentatrice,’ he growled, and deepened the kiss even further, pushing her back against the wall, his hands going to the proud mounds of her breasts.

  Sabrina felt her spine almost collapse when he cupped her, for even through the layers of her clothing she felt the exhilarating electricity of his touch. But, impatient to feel her skin on skin, he tugged her top out of her skirt, and with a deftness that spoke of his monumental experience he unclipped her bra, freeing her aching, swollen breasts to the ministrations of his warm, caressing hands.

  It was mind-blowing to feel her nipples embed themselves in his warm palms, the intimacy of his touch taking her by surprise, and yet delighting her at the same time. The weight and shape of her breasts seemed to be a perfect match for the cup of his hands. Never had she felt so feminine, so in tune with her body. Every pore of her skin seemed to be throbbing with feeling, her senses shuddering with the need for fulfilment. She squirmed against him, rubbing against his touch, wanting more, so much more.

  She wanted to feel his hot mouth sucking on her, to feel those white, hard teeth of his pulling on her erect nipples, to feel the rasp of his tongue on her sensitive flesh, to feel him delight in her femaleness as she was delighting in everything that made him a man: the evening shadow peppering his jaw, the insistent pressure of his mouth, the driving heat of his tongue, and the thundering pulse of his blood that left her in no doubt of his erection and the pressure for release building within him. She could feel his hardness against her, so tantalisingly close to where her body ached and pulsed with need.

  Her mind began to picture him, imagining how long and thick he was. She was shocked at where her thoughts were leading her, but with his magical mouth setting hers alight and his hands shaping her so possessively she was lost to the traitorous workings of her brain.

  His mouth moved from its sensual assault of hers to suckle her right breast, the moistness, the heat and fire of him making her gasp out loud. The caress of his hands on the creamy, smooth skin of her breasts had sent her pulses soaring, but the feel of his tongue rolling over her tightly budded nipple was beyond anything she had felt before. Her nerves exploded with feeling as the rasp of his tongue circled her before he drew on her with his hot, moist mouth.

  Desire flooded her being, sending sparks up and down her spine, buckling her legs, loosening every ligament, until she felt as if she was going to melt into a pool at his feet. She dug her fingers into the thick thatch of his hair, holding on to anchor herself as he subjected her to even more of his earth-shattering caresses. Every nerve-ending fizzed with sensation. She was on fire for him, every atom of her being screaming for the fulfilment he was holding, tantalisingly just out of her reach.

  Just when she thought she could take no more, his mouth came back to hers, swallowing her whimper of pleasure as his tongue found hers and swept it up in a dance that shook her to the core of her being. She clung to him, her body pressed so tightly against him she felt every hard ridge of him, each point of contact thrilling her beyond description. Her mind took her on another erotic journey, conjuring up images of his body naked against hers, their limbs entwined, their bodies rocking in the quest for satiation.

  Almost without realising she was doing it, Sabrina slid her hands down his back, exploring the well-formed, tightly bunched muscles that even his shirt could not disguise. She went lower, underneath his jacket, to feel the tautness of his buttocks, her stomach giving a little hollow gulp when she felt him surge against her in response to her touch.

  The need to feel him in her hands, to shape the hot, hard potency of his aroused body, was a temptation she suddenly could not resist. With tentative shyness her hands skimmed over his slim hips before she brushed against the front of his trousers where the fabric was stretched with the heated trajectory of his arousal. She stroked his outline, her fingertips quivering at the latent power of him. She felt him flinch, as if her touch had burned him, and a rough, primal-sounding groan sounded from deep within his throat as his mouth ground against hers with increasing fervour.

  Suddenly the kiss was over.

  Mario stepped back, capturing both of her shameless hands in one of his, a blade of disdain sharpening his dark-as-pitch gaze. ‘You know, that is quite some sensual repertoire you have perfected, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘I was within moments of letting you have your wicked way with me.’

  Sabrina had to give herself a mental shake to reorient herself. Her senses were skyrocketing all over the place, her heart-rate galloping, her lips still throbbing and her colour at an all-time high. She lowered her gaze and, wrenching out of his hold quickly, covered herself, hating him for making her lose control in such an abandoned way. No doubt he had done it deliberately, showing how he could pick her up and put her down like a toy that amused him one minute and bored him the next.

  When she finally met his gaze once more, she made sure her features were blank, even though her body was still screaming out in frustration. ‘It was just a kiss, Mario,’ she said in an offhand tone. ‘It was never going to be anything more than that.’

  ‘Perhaps. But if you change your mind about occupying that sofa, let me know,’ he said with a glinting smile. ‘You never know where the next kiss might lead, now, do you?’

  It annoyed Sabrina that he was so clearly unaffected by what had happened just moments earlier. He showed no signs of a man pushed to the limits of physical control. Instead he looked cool and calm as if they had done nothing more than exchange a quick, platonic peck on the cheek.

  She on the other hand felt completely undone; her emotions were all over the place, not one of them making any sense to her. She wasn’t in love with him, far from it, but neither was she as immune to him as she so dearly wanted to be. What was it about him that made her feel so out of sorts?

  Well, maybe that wasn’t so hard to answer after all. He had ‘casual sex’ written all over him. She had known it the moment Laura had introduced her to him the day of her wedding. The memory was as clear as if it had been yesterday.

  ‘Just wait until you meet Ric’s best man, Mario Marcolini,’ Laura had said with a twinkling smile as she’d made a last-minute adjustment to her veil. ‘I am sure you two will get on like a house on fire.’

  Sabrina had rolled her eyes as she’d handed Laura another bobby pin. ‘I hope you are not trying to match make, Laura,’ she cautioned. ‘You know how I feel about that sort of thing.’

  Laura had given her a guileless look as she’d slid the pin in place. ‘I wouldn’t dream of doing any such thing. It’s just that Mario is quite a catch. He’s disgustingly rich, and now that he’s past thirty he’s surely going to be thinking about hanging up his playboy hat for something a little more substantial in terms of a relationship. You are perfect for him. It’s that “opposites attract” thing. He’s a man of the world; you are a young woman who hasn’t even been around the corner, let alone the block several times. He’s so cynical; you’re so fresh and trusting. I tell you, it’s a match made in heaven.’

  Sabrina had grimaced in embarrassment. ‘Oh, please, you don’t have to keep reminding me how unsophisticated and inexperienced I am.’

  Laura had given her a fond smile. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. Not every man these days wants an experienced temptress in the bedr
oom. Ric loved the fact he was my first lover. I am so glad I waited. I know it’s considered terribly old-fashioned, but I never felt I was ready before I met him. He told me it was the greatest gift I could have given him.’

  Sabrina blinked herself back to the present. Mario was looking at her in that cynical way of his, probably thinking of how he could cajole her into his bed with the crook of one finger. ‘If you want a wife in the real sense of the word, you are going to have to pay for it,’ she said, goaded beyond reasonable caution.

  He gave her a mocking look as he reached inside his jacket for his wallet. He unfolded it, took out a thick wad of notes and fanned them out on the coffee table next to her like a hand of cards. ‘I hope that covers the entertainment so far,’ he said. ‘It was quite a floor show. I am looking forward to an encore.’

  Sabrina glowered at him, her anger towards him like a swirling hot tide of lava inside her. ‘You think you can get whatever you want by opening your wallet, don’t you?’

  His hard gaze raked her mercilessly. ‘I know I can, Sabrina,’ he drawled. ‘You, my little gold-digger, just proved it.’

  Sabrina thought of several stinging retorts to hurl his way, but before she could utter even one of them he had turned on his heel and left.

  The sofa in the end made quite a comfortable bed, and even though Sabrina hadn’t expected to be able to relax enough to sleep she found herself drifting off regardless. Molly was asleep in her pram nearby, and apart from the occasional snuffle she slept soundly until about four in the morning, when she began to whimper on and off.

  When it was clear Molly wasn’t going to settle back down again, Sabrina turned on a lamp and changed the baby’s nappy before heating her bottle. Once Molly was fed, Sabrina sat on the sofa and gently rocked the pram with her foot to settle the baby back to sleep.

  The front door opened and Mario came in, still dressed in the clothes he had been wearing earlier, although he’d pulled his shirt free from the waistband of his trousers. His hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it several times, and his jaw was heavily shadowed with stubble. Although his eyes had shadows beneath, they still contained a devilish light when they collided with hers.

  ‘Waiting up for me, sweet Sabrina?’ he asked.

  She gave her eyes a quick roll of disdain. ‘I can see why you have booked the largest suite in the hotel—no doubt it is to make room for your ego.’

  Mario laughed as he undid a couple of buttons on his shirt. ‘And I can see how it might be rather fun being married to you. The challenge of taming that quick tongue of yours could prove to be very entertaining.’

  Sabrina threw him a filthy look. ‘I can’t stand men who think they can control the women in their lives.’

  ‘Ah, but you are not really the woman in my life, are you, Sabrina?’ he said. ‘But perhaps you would like to be, sì? That would be the icing on the cake, would it not? A rich man for a husband, a child thrown into the bargain and a lifestyle other people only dream about.’

  She gave him a withering look. ‘I can think of nothing worse than being tied to you.’

  A light of challenge came into his eyes. ‘I think you are playing a very clever game,’ he said. ‘No doubt you have played it many times before. But with me, young lady, you have taken on much more than you realise. I am not going to be manipulated by you. I know what you want and how far you will go to get it. The next thing, you will be telling me you are in love with me and want our marriage to continue indefinitely.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘As if.’

  Mario smiled. He liked nothing better than a woman who was quick with a come back; it showed a level of intelligence that was a match to his. Sabrina’s feisty nature was becoming increasingly attractive to him. He was so used to women simpering around him, bowing to his demands without a whimper of protest.

  Sabrina on the other hand fought him tooth and nail, snarling at him like a cat cornered by a snapping terrier. It made him all the more determined to tame her, to have her purring in submission in his arms, welcoming him like a lioness who recognised the alpha male of the pride, giving herself to him because she realised there was no other male who could satisfy her the way he could.

  And he could satisfy her. He knew it as surely as he knew where his next breath was coming from. He had not felt anything like the heat he felt in her kiss; he had not felt anything like the fire in her touch as her hands had skimmed over him, barely touching, but setting fires on his flesh all the same. His skin was still smouldering, the ashes of banked down desire still glowing, threatening to erupt into consuming flames if she so much as pressed her soft mouth to his.

  ‘I am going to catch a couple of hours’ sleep,’ Mario said. ‘Are you sure you will not join me in my bed?’

  The disparaging look she gave him made his skin tighten all over with excitement.

  Later today she would be his wife.

  Legally.

  Officially.

  And from what he had seen and tasted of her so far he did not think it would be too long before she agreed to be his wife in every sense of the word.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE registry-office ceremony was just as disappointing as Sabrina had imagined it would be. A disinterested official conducted the short, impersonal exchange of vows and the paperwork was signed and sealed in less time than it would have taken a real bride to walk down the aisle of a church. The only thing that stood out for Sabrina was the part where the marriage celebrant gave Mario permission to kiss the bride.

  Sabrina had been preparing herself for that moment for hours, but even so when his mouth came down on hers she felt every bone in her body melt. Her lips clung to his, her body sinking into the leanly muscled strength of his tall frame. The kiss was brief but intense—but because Mario was the first to bring an end to it Sabrina felt cheated, wondering if he knew she was secretly longing for more. It was so hard to read his expression; he gave no indication of the event of their marriage affecting him whatsoever, which in a perverse sort of way upset her even more.

  The press were in their droves on the street outside, but Mario had already organised a security team to keep them at bay. It was impossible to prevent them from taking a few snapshots, however, and Sabrina was glad she had gone to the trouble of wearing her best outfit, a pale-pink suit and a string of pearls and earrings that had belonged to her mother. She had piled her hair in a casual but still elegant knot on her head, and taken extra care with her make-up, recognising she was now playing a role that required all the poise and sophistication she could muster. She didn’t want any of Mario’s previous and future lovers to look at her and think he had married trailer trash. She was determined to show everyone, including Mario himself, that she was a young woman who knew how to carry herself in the public eye.

  There was no reception following the service, no crystal flutes of the best champagne to toast the future, no throwing of the bouquet—there wasn’t even a single flower for her to toss. Instead there was a flurry of activity as Mario’s driver ushered them into the waiting limousine to take them to the airport for her departure to Rome.

  Molly thankfully had slept through the proceedings and didn’t wake until Sabrina had to lift her out of her baby carrier in order to go through the security check-point.

  In no time at all they were led to the waiting jet, and once the safety demonstration was over, the sleek plane taxied along the runway before it finally took off like a giant metallic bird.

  Sabrina was glad she had Molly’s needs and comfort to see to as it kept her attention away from the silent figure seated beside her. She was intensely aware of him, however. He only had to turn over the page of the thick folder of documents he was reading for her to shiver in reaction at the occasional brush of his arm against hers.

  Eventually the stress and emotional turmoil of the day got the better of her, and, with Molly asleep in the bassinet against the bulkhead, Sabrina closed her eyes, promising herself she would have a little
power-nap to refresh herself before Molly next woke.

  Mario breathed in the sweet light fragrance of Sabrina’s light brown hair as she leant against his shoulder. She smelt of fresh spring flowers, sweet peas and jasmine, a subtle but alluring combination that made his concentration drift away from the article on fund management he was supposed to be reading.

  He looked at her small, slim hands lying on his right thigh, their ringless state reminding him of his need to organise an engagement and wedding ring to add credence to their sudden marriage.

  He had phoned his brother and briefly explained the situation, and Antonio had encouraged him to concentrate on what was best for Molly. Building a long-term relationship with Sabrina was not something Mario had ever considered, but he was starting to see how the baby responded to Sabrina as if she was indeed her biological mother. He didn’t want to think too far into the future, but he comforted himself that lots of children survived the divorce of their parents or guardians. Being stuck in a loveless marriage was not an option for him; his parents had enjoyed a mostly happy and fulfilling relationship up until his father had suffered a fatal heart attack. His mother’s decline over the last five years and recent death had made Mario even more convinced marriage was not for him. He didn’t like the thought of being dependent on someone for anything, including emotional support. He had seen what had happened to Antonio and his wife, how the tragedy of their stillborn first child had torn them apart for five long years.

  Did he want that sort of emotion in his life? It was hard enough being responsible for Molly, whom he loved as if she was indeed his own. He didn’t like the uncertainty, the sense of vulnerability, that giving all of yourself to another person created. He had never been in love, and often wondered if it was an overrated emotion to cover more base desires, which in the end usually burned out all by themselves. He knew too many married couples who could barely stand the sight of each other, grudgingly staying together for the sake of children or combined assets.