‘It is, but then I have always liked a challenge.’
Sabrina shifted her gaze from his glinting eyes, her fingers moving from her ring to fiddle with her soup spoon instead. ‘I suppose you treat everything in life, including women like me, as a challenge to be conquered.’
He reached across the table to capture her hand, bringing it up to his mouth, his eyes holding hers as he pressed a ghost of a kiss to her bent knuckles. ‘You, tesore mio, have been a delightful challenge,’ he said. ‘I have enjoyed every minute of it.’
Sabrina pulled her hand out of his and tucked it away from temptation in her lap. ‘I need some time to think about the no-children issue.’ She took an uneven breath and continued, ‘It’s a big step to take, and I don’t want to do anything I will later regret.’
Mario poured some wine into both of their glasses. ‘Take all the time you need,’ he said. ‘I will have Giovanna move your things into my room after dinner.’
Her eyes flared. ‘You want me to move into your room straight away?’
‘That is what husbands and wives do, is it not?’ he asked. ‘Sharing a room and a bed are pretty standard, I would have thought.’
She swallowed and reached for one of the bread rolls Giovanna had left earlier, systematically crumbling it in her fingers without actually eating any of it.
‘Would you like some butter or olive oil with your crumbs?’ he asked drily.
She looked down at her plate and grimaced. ‘Sorry…’
He smiled as he picked up his wine glass. ‘I am not sure why I make you so nervous, cara—especially now that we have consummated our relationship. Believe me, it will only get better from now on.’
Sabrina knew she was blushing again but there was little she could do about it. He made her feel hot all over just by looking at her. The thought of experiencing more of his sensual expertise made her stomach dip and dive in excitement. When she squeezed her legs together she could feel where he had been earlier.
Giovanna came in with their entrée, and Mario instructed her to transfer Sabrina’s things into his room before she left for the evening. The housekeeper gave Sabrina a twinkling look as she moved past to leave, making Sabrina’s cheeks flame all over again.
‘Now that is one very happy housekeeper,’ Mario commented.
‘Yes, well, one room is easier for her to clean than two,’ Sabrina said.
‘She has taken rather a shine to you, has she not?’
‘No thanks to you,’ she said with a sour set to her mouth. ‘She was absolutely awful to me when I first arrived.’
A frown appeared between his eyes. ‘You think I deliberately set her against you?’
She gave him an arch look. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘Of course not,’ he said, still frowning. ‘Perhaps she read something in the press. I will have a word with her about it.’
‘There’s no need to do that,’ Sabrina inserted quickly. ‘Whatever she heard or read, she has obviously disregarded. She is lovely towards me now, and she adores Molly.’
‘Giovanna has been in the service of my family for a long time,’ he said. ‘I know for a fact she is delighted I have finally settled down.’
‘You don’t strike me as the tameable, settling-down type,’ Sabrina said as she picked up her spoon.
The smile fell away from his face as he reached for his glass. ‘Perhaps I will change,’ he said, swirling the red wine for a moment. He met her eyes once more and added, ‘But don’t hold your breath.’
She gave him an ‘I wouldn’t be so foolish’ look. ‘Believe me, I wasn’t going to.’
Once the meal was over, Mario led her into the salon for a liqueur. He turned on the sound system; the strains of a mellow-sounding ballad made Sabrina’s nervous tension gradually fade away. She laid her head back on the cushioned sofa, closing her eyes as the sweet cadences floated over her.
She felt the depression on the seat next to her as Mario joined her. The strong band of his arm lay on the back of the sofa, his fingers idly playing with her hair at the nape of her neck. She suppressed a tiny shiver of delight as he loosened the clip holding her hair up, the tresses falling down over his hand.
‘You have beautiful hair,’ he said in a throaty tone. ‘Promise me you won’t cut it.’
Sabrina turned her head to look at him. She felt ready to promise him just about anything when he looked at her like that. His eyes were dark and intense, his mouth so close she could see every pinpoint of stubble around its sensual curve. Almost without realising she was doing it, she raised her hand and gently traced over the sculptured contours of his lips, her belly giving a little, punching-fist-like movement as his tongue came out and brushed over her fingertip.
‘Kiss me, Sabrina.’
She leaned towards him, her eyelids going down as she felt the gentle breeze of his breath caress her lips. She pressed her mouth to his, softly, hesitantly, tasting him, feeling the simmer of sexual heat spring fervently to boiling life.
He took over the kiss with a sweep of his tongue across the seam of her mouth, taking possession of her moist warmth, calling her tongue into a Latino salsa that was smoulderingly sexy. Sparks of reaction raced up and down her spine as his hands brought her nearer, one hand splayed at the back of her head, the other cupping the swell of her breast. She pressed herself closer as his thumb found her nipple, teasing it until it ached for the intimate caress of his mouth.
Her body throbbed with an insistent pulse, an on-off rhythm that resounded deep in her womb. Moisture pooled between her thighs, the humidity of need that would not be denied now it had been awakened. She felt the raw ache consume her as she strained to get closer to him; she ached to feel the power of him under her touch.
She groped blindly for his shirt buttons as his mouth continued its passionate command of hers, undoing each one until her hands found his warm, hard flesh. She moved lower, undoing his belt and unhooking his waistband, rolling down his zip until she took him in her hand.
He broke the kiss to watch her caress him, his breathing becoming deep and uneven. ‘Harder, cara—don’t be frightened to use more pressure. I like it that way.’
Sabrina made a circle with her fingers and massaged him, taking her cue from his reaction. He sucked in a breath, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his head, pleasure written all over his features. He beaded with moisture, and she bent her head and tasted him, delighting in the way he quivered against her mouth. She licked him again, using her tongue to tantalise him, to string out the pleasure. She could feel the tension building in him with every smooth stroke of her tongue.
‘Enough,’ he groaned as he pulled away. He took a couple of deep breaths and then began to work on her clothes. ‘Let’s even the score, shall we?’
Sabrina tried to control her frantic breathing as he slowly undressed her. Each item of clothing was taken from her body with a series of burning kisses that branded her flesh, sending an electric current of need to her inner core. She lay back on the sofa as he came over her, his mouth sucking on her breast as his fingers explored the moist heart of her. The stroking motion stirred her senses into a frenzy; she arched her back, striving for the ultimate moment, hovering precariously on the edge, not quite there, but so close she could feel every nerve tensing and twitching.
His mouth left her breast to kiss its way down her body, lingering over the tiny bowl of her belly button before going lower. Sabrina snatched in a sharp breath as his lips nibbled at the sensitive curve of each of her hips, a tiny, teasing nip that made every nerve beneath the skin leap in awareness.
‘You have such silky, creamy skin,’ he said as he began to trace her inner thighs with his fingers in a lazy ‘I’ve got all the time in the world’ motion that made her nearly scream out loud in frustration. ‘It is like satin; so smooth and warm. I want to taste every inch of you.’
Her heart rate soared as his fingers moved closer, millimetre by millimetre, the tight coil of tension in her body threatening to snap.
She gasped when he separated her, the gentle caress making her quiver all over in pleasure.
‘You are so slick and warm, so ready for me,’ he said as he continued stroking her.
‘I want you inside…’ she said in a breathy whisper.
‘It’s probably too soon after the last time,’ he said. ‘You are new to this, cara. Your body will be tender. Let me pleasure you this way.’
Sabrina grasped his hand, her eyes pleading. ‘No, please, Mario. I want you to make love to me. I want to feel you again.’
He held her gaze for a moment before he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her until she was writhing with longing.
He reached for where he had thrown his trousers, and, taking out his wallet, retrieved a tiny square that contained a condom. He quickly applied it before coming down over her, positioning himself so she wasn’t taking all of his weight.
His first thrust was gentle, making Sabrina’s skin leap in excitement, a rush of feeling so intense it took her breath away.
‘Am I hurting you?’ Mario asked, tensing.
She let out a sigh of bliss. ‘No, it’s perfect. You are perfect.’
Mario gradually increased his pace, becoming lost in the sensations flooding his system. She was such a generous lover, so willing to give as well as receive. He was blown away by the power her body had over him. Making love with her was so different from his other experiences. She somehow lifted him to another sphere, a place where mind, body and soul were inextricably linked, where feelings he had not thought possible began to unfurl inside him like a tight bud blossoming under the first rays of warm spring sun.
He loved the way her body fit his as if it had been made especially for him. Her slim limbs wrapped around him so naturally; her soft mouth received his with such warmth, and her feminine heart gripped him as if she never wanted to let him go.
Mario felt her shudder as he drove a little harder, her body starting to convulse around his as she came. He felt a powerful surge of emotion as she gasped and whimpered his name, her slender arms holding him tightly as the tumult of her orgasm ricocheted through her. His own release was just as powerful; it bulleted through him like a pump-action rifle, sending him tumbling in a vortex of sensation that was totally earth-shattering.
Mario lay with her encircled in his arms as their heart rates gradually returned to normal, his fingers idly playing a rhythmic tune on the silky skin of her arm as if on a keyboard. It wasn’t a song he recognised—it had no words—but he knew he didn’t want it to end.
Not yet.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE baby monitor sounded and Sabrina moved out of Mario’s arms, retrieving her clothes from the flaoor, trying not to feel embarrassed at her nakedness. ‘I’d better go and see if she needs changing or something,’ she said as she dressed with as much dignity as she could.
Mario seemed less concerned about his lack of covering. He sat upright and brushed his hair back with his hand. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, and reached for his trousers.
Sabrina’s eyes fell away from his. She was annoyed with herself for feeling ashamed of the intimacy they had shared. It made her seem so unsophisticated and homely. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It might wake her up too much to have both of us fussing over her.’
‘As you wish.’
Sabrina didn’t let out her breath until she was in the nursery tending to the baby’s needs. Molly was soon resettled, and Sabrina tiptoed out, leaving the door ajar.
She was on her way back from a visit to the bathroom when she heard Mario talking to someone. At first she thought it must be Giovanna, but then she realised he was speaking on the phone in the master bedroom, as she could only hear his side of the conversation. She had always loathed people who eavesdropped, but something about the tone of his voice stopped her in her tracks just outside the door. Although he was speaking in Italian, she heard her name mentioned a couple of times, the urgency in his voice making her wonder who exactly he was talking to. When she considered the possibility of him discussing her with another woman, after the intimacy they had so recently shared, her heart began to pound like a pendulum that had been knocked out of kilter, each strike against her chest-wall making her feel as if her fragile hopes were being bludgeoned one by one.
Sabrina was not aware of making a sound, but suddenly Mario pulled the bedroom door fully open, the mobile in his hand now flipped closed. His mouth was pulled tight, his jaw even tighter. ‘I am sorry about this, Sabrina, but I have to go out for a while,’ he said, his eyes moving out of range of hers. ‘I might not be back until late.’
She frowned as he snatched his car keys off the bedside table, his hand going through his hair once more. ‘Mario?’
His eyes cut to hers. ‘Leave it, Sabrina,’ he said, his tone edgy. ‘We will talk in the morning. I have to get going. Someone is waiting for me.’
She opened her mouth, but closed it again as he brushed past. Her shoulders went down, her spirits plummeting in despair.
Someone was waiting for him.
The words taunted her as each minute of each hour dragged past, as she lay listening in vain for Mario’s return.
It was the longest and loneliest night of her life.
When Sabrina came downstairs the next morning, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache, she saw Giovanna start as she entered the kitchen, the newspaper she had been reading hastily snatched out of sight.
‘La prima colazione, Signora Marcolini?’ she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
Sabrina lifted her hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘I’m sorry, Giovanna. Can you say it in English, please?’
‘Breakfast,’ the housekeeper said, not quite meeting Sabrina’s gaze. ‘I have some fresh rolls and preserves, or if you like I have cured ham and cheese, and—’
‘It’s all right, Giovanna,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I am not feeling like food just now.’
‘Did the bambino keep you awake last night?’ Giovanna asked as she surreptitiously put the newspaper in the bin under the sink.
‘She only woke once, and only briefly,’ Sabrina said, peering past the housekeeper’s shoulder to the bin. ‘Is that today’s paper?’
Giovanna pursed her lips for a moment. ‘You not able to read it, signora. It is in Italian.’
It suddenly became absolutely imperative for Sabrina to see it. She moved past Giovanna and pulled the scrunched-up paper out of the bin, smoothing it out to see the front page. Looking at the photograph of Mario and a blonde woman draped all over him made her chest feel as if someone had kicked her whilst wearing a concrete boot. She swallowed tightly, trying to control her emotions. ‘What does it say, Giovanna?’ she asked, lowering the paper to look at the housekeeper.
Giovanna lifted her apron to wipe the beads of perspiration off her face. ‘It say…’ she gave Sabrina a wincing look ‘…it say Mario Marcolini resumes affair with Glenda Rickman.’
Sabrina swallowed again, her throat feeling razor-blade raw. ‘Glenda Rickman the model?’
Giovanna nodded grimly. ‘She was his mistress before he married you.’
Sabrina drew in a breath that burned all the way down into her lungs. ‘I see…’
‘I told you before, lots of rich Italian men have mistresses,’ Giovanna said. ‘You are his wife. That is all that matters.’
Sabrina closed the paper and handed it back to the housekeeper. ‘When—or should I say if—Signore Marcolini comes home some time today, I would like you to inform him I am taking Molly with me for a few days to think over his offer.’
Giovanna frowned uncertainly. ‘Sì?’
Sabrina straightened her spine in resolve. ‘I want some time to consider my options,’ she said. ‘I am not sure I am cut out for the life he expects me to live here with him.’
Giovanna began to wring her hands. ‘You must not go where he cannot find you, Signora Marcolini,’ she insisted. ‘He will be very angry.’
Sabrina remained implacable and calm, alt
hough inside she felt cut to ribbons. ‘Let him be angry,’ she said. ‘I am angry too. We can’t go on like this without some give on his part.’
‘He give you diamonds!’ Giovanna threw her hands in the air. ‘He give you a palazzo and expensive clothes. He treat you like a principessa—how you say in English?—a princess. You are his wife, signora. You share his bed.’
Sabrina felt her bottom lip quiver as tears came to her eyes. ‘I don’t want his priceless diamonds and his stupid designer-clothes.’
Giovanna looked confused. ‘What do you want from him?’
I want his heart, Sabrina said, but not out loud. ‘Tell him I will call him in three days,’ she said. ‘My mobile will be switched off until then.’
Mario slammed his fist on the kitchen counter as he grilled the housekeeper for the umpteenth time. ‘What do you mean, she has taken Molly away?’ he roared. ‘Where the hell is she? She must have told you where she was going.’
Giovanna flinched, blinking back tears. ‘I tell her not to go, but she not listen to me. She not tell me anything about where she was going. She called a cab and was gone before I could contact you.’
Mario swore viciously as he left the room, pacing up and down, trying to think where Sabrina could possibly have gone. She had money and she had Molly. She could be on a plane to anywhere by now.
His chest tightened at the thought of something happening to either of them. He wasn’t used to feeling so utterly powerless. How had he not foreseen this? He had trusted Sabrina too much. He had thought she had been softening towards him; each day he had felt her move closer to him, letting her guard down. God damn it, she had given herself to him, fooling him into believing she might be developing feelings for him, when all the time she was planning an escape route. He suddenly recalled how he had overheard her telling Molly she was going to think of a way out of the situation on the day of the funeral.
All this time—he clenched his teeth until they almost cracked—all this time she had been planning a revenge so complete it would destroy him. If the press heard of it he would look a complete fool. He could handle that, but he could not handle Sabrina deserting him just when he had begun to realise how much he needed her. It wasn’t just about Molly; perhaps it had never been about Molly. From the first moment he had met Sabrina he had felt strangely unsatisfied, felt an irksome feeling that something was missing from his life, but until now he hadn’t been able to identify exactly what it was.
Bound By The Marcolini Diamonds (The Marcolini Men Book 2) Page 15
