by Nicola Marsh
She closed her eyes and inhaled, the sweet scent teasing her senses and she emptied her mind, allowing calm to flow through her.
She could do this. Bid Luca a proper farewell, one that would sustain her in the lonely nights ahead when she smelled this fragrance and was catapulted back to this night.
Filled with a new resolve, she opened her eyes and eased down the zip on her black sheath, thankful she’d worn her best lingerie, needing all the confidence she could get to show Luca how much he meant to her one last time.
As if thinking about him conjured him, he knocked once on the door.
‘Colour me impatient but I’m not waiting out here one more damn second.’
‘Come in,’ she called out, stepping out of her sheath as he stepped into the bedroom, his gaze zeroing in on her like a heat-seeking missile.
She shivered in anticipation as his burning eyes stripped her of the ebony lace sheer teddy, her choice in lingerie vindicated by the speed in which he crossed her bedroom and hauled her into his arms.
‘Utterly divine.’
She bit back a moan as he nuzzled her neck. ‘It’s ylang-ylang. And some of the candles are scented too—’
‘I’m not talking about the candles and you know it.’
He lifted his head and when his heavy-lidded gaze met hers, she stopped breathing. For in that instant she could’ve sworn he cared as much as she did.
Her heart wobbled with the impact. Had Luca fallen for her? Was his reluctance over the past week a product of the same fear she’d secretly harboured? A fear of getting too close, a fear of falling too far?
She stared into all that beautiful blue, lost in his eyes, drowning in a pool of longing so deep she’d happily never surface.
If he felt half of what she did, this parting would be more bittersweet than she had possibly imagined.
‘Leaving you is going to be the hardest thing—’
She kissed away the rest of his words, not wanting to waste a moment talking. She wanted a night to remember, a night filled with precious memories.
For now she wanted to show him how she felt.
She deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue, running hers along his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth until he groaned.
Her hands wrenched his shirt free from his trousers, her fingertips hitting pay dirt when they skated across the warm skin at the base of his spine.
He moaned into her mouth as her fingers skimmed his waist, light as a feather, coming to rest over his belt buckle.
With their mouths fused and their tongues dancing, she slid the leather strap of his belt out of its loophole, her fingers trembling as she toyed with the buckle.
He stilled her hand and broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as their uneven breaths mingled.
‘Charli, I wish—’
She placed her fingers against his lips.
‘Shh … later.’
Her fingertips traced his lips, enjoyed the slight quiver of his bottom lip when her nail scraped it.
‘Much later.’
In response, he ripped the teddy off her, the scraps of lace a lost remnant in their passion as he backed her onto the bed and eased her down.
His hands lingered at her ankles, stroked upwards, caressing the inside of her thighs until she quivered. He splayed her, opening her to him as her body thrummed with tension, burning beneath the hunger in his ravenous gaze.
He knelt before her, worshipping, as his hands slid under her hips and lifted her pelvis. He lowered his head so slowly she cramped with need, her muscles taut, desperate to unravel at the first flick of his tongue.
She arched into his mouth, frantic for the release only he could give her, her erotic memories of how many times he’d done this in Bendigo mingling with the present and intensifying the pleasure until she thought she’d explode.
Propping up on her elbows, she watched him, their gazes locked as he finally, exquisitely, touched his mouth to her and with the first circle of his tongue on her she came undone, surging up to thread her fingers through his hair, bucking against his mouth as he continued to pleasure her long after the first shudders had subsided.
With her body boneless with pleasure after she’d orgasmed twice, she shimmied up the bed and crooked a finger at him.
He didn’t have to be asked twice, lunging at her, their frantic hands making quick work of his clothes.
In moments they were skin to skin, slick and wanting, their lips fused as he sank onto the bed, protected, and pulled her onto his lap.
She straddled him and slid down slowly, prolonging the exquisite agony until she enveloped him and he groaned, long and loud.
She needed him now. She wanted him now. She loved him now.
Loved? She loved him?
With the desperate clamouring of their bodies as he thrust up and she slid down repeatedly, their tension building and spiralling, all she could focus on was the fact she’d just realised she hadn’t just fallen for this amazing man, she loved him.
As he thrust up once more, harder and deeper, and she tipped over the edge and screamed out his name, she slumped into his arms, wishing they had a future yet knowing she’d given up on wishes a long time ago.
* * *
When the last candle burned low Luca brushed a soft kiss across Charli’s forehead and slid out of bed.
He’d spent the last half-hour watching her: the gentle rise and fall of the sheet draped over her breasts, the tiny tilt of her lips at the corners, the soft skin of her eyelids fluttering as she dreamed.
If what they’d done over the past five hours was any indication, they’d be pleasant dreams indeed.
She blew his mind in so many ways he could barely count them yet when she woke he wouldn’t be here. He couldn’t be. He’d said his goodbyes, putting his words into actions, demonstrating repeatedly all night how special she was, how she made him feel.
Like a better man, a man who could conquer the world.
And that alone was enough to send him running to catch his flight.
He relied on no one, and knowing Charli held that much power over him seriously screwed with his head.
To make matters worse he’d seen the moment of truth, that one fantastical moment when she’d been straddling him the first time, her skin sweat-slicked and glistening, her hair tumbling like spun gold around her shoulders, her eyes pinned on his … with love in their depths.
He now knew why she’d been so scared the past week. She hadn’t been afraid of becoming emotionally invested, she was already there, and tonight had tipped her over the edge.
She couldn’t love him because he couldn’t love her in return. Simply, he didn’t know how.
After their chat at the Arias last night he’d contemplated returning to Melbourne regularly, getting to know Pop better, maybe trialling a long-distance relationship with Charli.
But after seeing the depth of her feelings tonight, that was out of the question. The further this developed, the longer this continued, the greater her heartbreak and no way in hell would he put her through that.
He knew what it felt like having your heart ripped out of your chest and trampled on—Rad had seen to that—no way in hell would he put a woman as special as Charli, a woman he cared about, through that.
No, it was better this way. They’d said all that needed to be said; with every whispered endearment, with every murmured plea, they’d said their goodbyes.
Best to walk away now.
While he still could.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHARLI knew Luca had gone the moment her eyes fluttered open to the pale gold dawn filtering through the wooden slats.
She lay in bed, shallow breathing, staring at the ceiling and refusing to cry, the ache in her chest spreading outwards, filling her with a gut-wrenching pain that had her rolling over onto her side and clutching her middle.
She’d known this was how she’d feel when he left: gutted. Empty. Grief-stricken.
But she’d g
one ahead last night anyway and now wasn’t the time for regrets or self-flagellation. She had to get on with her life, starting with heading into the office and instigating the first steps to get Storm Varth to sign on with Landry Records for his much-anticipated new release.
Running on false determination, she hauled herself out of bed, slipped into a robe and padded into the bathroom.
Logically she shouldn’t be this upset. She knew he was leaving, was probably best this way with no prolonged teary farewell. But glancing around the bathroom, all evidence of his presence wiped clean, something deep inside her finally broke.
Not for what they’d done, but for what he couldn’t do.
Luca couldn’t get emotionally involved.
He didn’t know how but with every touch, every caress, last night, she’d hoped he would.
And while her heart cracked piece by piece, she didn’t hold him responsible. When you’d been rejected growing up it became second nature not to trust. She knew that firsthand. So while she didn’t blame him for not knowing how to love, she did blame him for not wanting to try.
She loved the most amazing, charming, gregarious, gorgeous man on the planet.
And he didn’t love her back.
As the enormity of the situation sank in, the protective wall around her heavily guarded heart cracked and crumbled, taking the last of her stoic bravery with it as she slumped onto the edge of the bathtub and bawled.
She had no idea how long she sat there, choking sobs racking her body until she ached all over. For someone who rarely cried, it felt as if a decade’s worth of tears spilled out for all she’d lost.
When her mum had first kicked her out, she’d been too shocked to cry, had deliberately focused on the numbness pervading her heart so she could block out the terrifying reality of surviving on the streets. And over the years she’d realised Sharon wasn’t worth her tears.
Luca, on the other hand, had opened a floodgate by leaving and she cried until she had nothing left, clutching her middle as she stood and avoided looking in the mirror.
She should jump in the shower, get dressed and head to work, the one unwavering comfort in her life. Instead, she shuffled into the bedroom, took one look at the bed and fell into it, curling up into a foetal position, wishing she could stem the awful sadness creeping through her, a thief stealthily robbing her of every happy moment she’d spent with Luca.
Rolling over, she buried her face in a pillow, his pillow, his familiar crisp lime and sexy male scent a momentary comfort. Until she realised she’d never get to bury her nose in the crook of his neck and smell it again.
All those wasted nights … Fury replaced her sorrow and she sat bolt upright, clutching his pillow to her with one hand and thumping hers with the other.
She’d been so hell-bent on safeguarding her heart, so focused on burying the hurt after his fling comment, she’d lost sight of reality. A reality she now couldn’t ignore: she loved him, had probably loved him when she’d slept with him the first time.
Why else would his throwaway comment have hurt so much? Why else would she have spent an entire week deliberately pushing him away unless she was absolutely terrified of falling any deeper?
Her head dropped and she clutched his pillow tighter, wishing she had her time over again. She’d wasted seven long nights to make the most of every second with a guy she’d never forget.
She’d been so sure of herself, so steady in her resolve to guard her heart, deluding herself into believing she could handle one last night and then concentrate on forgetting.
Cursing her stupidity and vulnerability, she flung the pillow away and knuckled her eyes, pressing to stem a new influx of tears.
It didn’t work and as she covered her face with her hands she knew it would take a lifetime to recover from loving Luca.
Luca strode the airport corridors like a man possessed, willing his plane to land so it could take off again, taking him as far from this godforsaken city as possible.
The last time he’d felt this rattled, this hollow, had been after his father’s funeral when his so-called family had booted him out.
Oh, it was fine for them to grieve and console each other and show solidarity, but an eighteen-year-old kid who needed that family, their acknowledgement more than ever? They’d turned their collective backs on him.
He’d tried to ignore the bitterness growing up, tried to be a man as he watched his mum pine away for a bastard who didn’t give a rat’s about anyone but himself.
He’d learned to never carry emotional baggage, to ignore the constant worry that whatever he did it wouldn’t be good enough in the end. That little life lesson had been driven in hard every time his father turned away and pretended he didn’t exist.
Not risking emotional ties was definitely for the best. It had served him well enough for years: working to raise money for the charities but not getting too involved, dating but never seeing the same woman beyond a few weeks, staying in touch with Hector but never moving beyond polite necessities.
Yet in the face of the warm, vibrant woman he’d left sleeping in bed two hours ago, why did his life suddenly seem so empty?
He stopped short, the reality hitting him, and he muttered an apology as a woman slammed into him from behind. Resettling her, and ignoring the moment her frown blossomed into a flirtatious smile, he headed for the nearest bar and downed a whisky straight.
When the barman asked if he’d like another, he shook his head, pointed at his empty glass and muttered, ‘Medicinal purposes.’
The barman’s dubious expression said he’d heard that one many times before and, leaving a generous tip, Luca resumed his pacing.
Heading back to London to his well-ordered, clinical life had seemed the best option. Until he’d realised why the life he’d carefully cultivated suddenly seemed cold and dull and lifeless.
He felt something for Charli.
Something that went beyond caring.
Something he couldn’t identify but could well be bordering on … love?
But how could it be, when he couldn’t recognise what he was feeling? Was this helpless, out-of-control, panicky feeling love? And if so, what the hell was he going to do about it?
He could spend the next twenty-four hours on a plane stewing over this or he could take a risk on reaching out to someone.
Cursing under his breath, he fished his mobile out of his pocket and hit Pop on speed dial.
‘Luca, my boy, how are you?’
‘I stuffed up.’
To his credit Pop didn’t jump to conclusions or rant or interrogate. He paused, giving him time to continue.
‘With Charli.’
As if he needed clarification.
‘What happened?’
‘I’ve made a mess of things.’
Inhaling, he pinched the bridge of his nose before blurting the truth.
‘I think I’m in love with her.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
He heard the cynicism in Pop’s voice and it increased the tightness gripping his chest. This was a mistake, ringing a man he’d deliberately kept at arm’s length over the years, hoping for advice.
But he was desperate and anything Pop could offer him in the way of counsel would be better than going out of his mind during the long-haul flight.
‘I don’t know what love is.’
He hated how pitiful he sounded, how utterly clueless when he’d handled millions the world over.
If Pop didn’t have the answers he was royally stuffed.
‘Of course you do! You lived with it every day.’
He stiffened, clutching the phone so tight he thought it’d snap. He’d never heard Hector raise his voice and the fact he was doing it now stung.
‘Never mind—’
‘Your mother was a determined, proud woman who foolishly loved my pompous-ass son, but she loved you too.’
Pop cursed and Luca stared at the phone, stunned. ‘Did you know the only reason she accepte
d money for your schooling was because I pulled a swifty? I paid your entire high-school tuition up front and told her if she didn’t let you go, the school would just spend it on even more stuff for the already over-privileged kids who went there rather than her son and she finally relented.’
‘I never knew,’ he said, adding guilt to his jumble of emotions. All the times he’d blamed his mum for not loving him enough … she hadn’t just been after Rad’s money. If she had, she would’ve leapt at Pop’s offer to pay for his education, which cost several hundred thousand. That meant she had him because she wanted to and in going her own way to provide for both of them she’d proven her love time and time again.
‘Well now you do. So don’t go using your past as an excuse to stuff up your future.’
Luca had no idea what he’d expected to hear from Pop but, whatever it was, this wasn’t it. He’d expected a friendly ear, some sympathy, not this blunt lecture.
That’d teach him for reaching out.
‘My flight’s about to board. Got to go.’
‘What about Charli?’
An image of her sleeping peacefully before he ran out on her stuck in his mind on rewind, cleaving a giant hole in his heart.
‘I’ll ring her.’
Pop’s judgemental silence didn’t bode well and before he could launch into another broadside, Luca said, ‘See you.’
He didn’t wait for a response, ending the call with a stab at the phone, his hand shaking as he slid the phone back into his pocket.
Nothing was going right. First he’d stuffed up with Charli and by the sounds of that phone call he’d done the same with Pop.
This was what letting emotion into his life did: caused chaos and confusion.
So what the hell was he going to do to make things right?
Lucky the flight to London was a long one. He had a lot of thinking to do.
After stumbling around in a daze for an hour, Charli finally snapped out of her funk. Having the fastest shower on record, she threw on her favourite business suit, a deep crimson knee-skimming skirt and long jacket, guaranteed to give her a confidence boost. She felt so crappy, she needed it.
