by Maisey Yates
“My wife will be as involved as she wishes.” He couldn’t keep the biting edge from his voice.
James raised his gray eyebrows. “Well, he’s quite possessive, isn’t he?” He directed his question to Elaine.
A mischievous glint shone in her eyes. “Marco’s such a charming antique.” She ran a slender hand down his arm and gave him a look that was so falsely adoring he could have laughed had he not been so concerned about the words that were coming out of her mouth. “He has quite a reputation with women, as I’m sure you know, but I’ve tamed him pretty successfully. Of course there are moments when his inner caveman appears.”
James’s redheaded wife Kim quirked a smile, and spoke for the first time since they’d sat down at the dinner table. “Isn’t that the way it is with all men?”
“You behave,” James said playfully.
And just like that the tone of the conversation swayed from business and onto personal topics.
Marco had to admit that Elaine had a way with people. She could be engaging when she wanted to be, and none of her usual frosty reserve was on display for the Prestons.
Marco made an appointment to meet with James in the morning, and cut the dinner short before more drinks. As a rule he didn’t drink much. He didn’t like to dull his senses. And around Elaine Chapman he was going to need his mind functioning at its best. The last thing he needed was to have his decisions made through the soft, smoky haze of alcohol.
She walked ahead of him out of the restaurant, her hips swaying, encased lovingly in that form-fitting little dress. She was like a bright tropical flower, or a piece of luscious fruit. Forbidden fruit. He had made her off-limits. A notion that was completely foreign to him. A notion that made her appear all the more succulent.
She moved to the passenger side of the car, her body hidden from him by the dark shadows of the azalea bushes that lined the asphalt. He caught up to her and pulled her against him. The little hitch in her breath was the only sound she made to express her surprise. “So I’m a caveman, am I?” He placed his hands on her waist and drew her nearer, allowing her to feel the steel of his erection pressed against the curve of her bottom.
“It’s not the first time I’ve said it,” she said, her voice breathless.
“You were supposed to behave yourself,” he growled low, bringing his lips so close to her ear that he brushed the tender skin.
“You mean I was supposed to play silent accessory, like James’s wife?”
“Men like women who do as they’re told.” He skimmed his fingers from the indent in her waist to the underside of her breasts.
“Well, that’s too bad. I don’t suppose I’ll be having much luck with men.”
He chuckled. “Cara mia, I don’t believe that for a moment. You are walking temptation.”
She drew in a breath. “Even when I’m being mouthy?”
“Especially then.”
She leaned her head back for a moment, her body relaxing, her curves molding to fit against him. He pressed a kiss to her neck and she stiffened. “Stop.”
He released her. “Why?” Somewhere between the restaurant and the car he’d decided he didn’t need to fight his attraction for her anymore. As long as he stayed in control of the situation, and there was no doubt that he would, there could be no harm in indulging in an affair with her. He found it easy to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh without engaging his emotions, and in his experience a modern woman viewed sex much the same way.
Elaine lowered her eyes. “It will make things…complicated.”
He cupped her cheek and tilted her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing complicated about sex.”
“Maybe not for you.”
But Elaine knew that for her it would be. Dinner had been akin to torture. Watching him talk business, seeing him in his element, a ruthless light in his eyes as he spoke about his plans for the resort, the confidence he exuded, the arrogance…It had been the most spectacularly sexy thing she’d ever seen in her life. More than that, he’d made her feel far too much. Not just desire, but other things. She’d been proud of him, had felt possessive. She hadn’t liked the way Kim Preston had eyed Marco’s spectacular physique—not that she could blame the other woman—but then Elaine’s gaze had locked on the platinum wedding band on Marco’s left hand and one word had run through her mind: mine.
And that was wrong. He wasn’t hers. And he never could be. Neither should she want him to be!
She felt as if she was dangling from the last thin shred of her resistance. If she let go, if she lost her grip, she was going to go tumbling down into the abyss beneath her, and climbing back out would be nearly impossible.
“There’s nothing complex about this,” he said, his voice a low, sexy whisper that vibrated through her, sending Shockwaves of longing through her being. “This is the most basic thing in the world. Man and woman. Desire and satisfaction.”
The promise in his voice almost stole her resolve then and there. “Marco, I’m tired and jet lagged. Let’s go back to the villa.”
She knew the absence of a firm no coming from her lips did not escape his notice. She honestly hadn’t been able to muster up the will to give him one. She knew it was dangerous, going back to the Ano Lani without a definitive decision in place, but maybe that was what she wanted. She was honest enough to admit, at least in that moment, that she wanted to leave the door open a little bit. She didn’t want to lose all possibility of making love with him—not when so much of her desired it so intensely.
They took the ride back to the hotel in silence. Elaine tried to steady her breathing, to get a handle on the riot of sensations and emotions that were tumbling through her usually predictable body. Where was her cool head now? When she most needed that level, analytical part of her personality it had deserted her like a rat off a sinking ship. Almost as if it wanted no part in the impending disaster.
No. There would be no disaster. She could control herself. The problem was that she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to control herself.
She leapt from the car the moment it came to a stop in front of the villa, needing desperately to put some distance between Marco and herself so that she could clear her head.
She felt rather than heard him enter the room behind her. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” she offered quickly. “You’re a lot…bigger than I am.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I have some work to finish up before I head to bed. I’ll be in the office.”
“Did the BlackBerry charger show up?”
He chuckled, the sound spreading through her like melting butter. “As a matter of fact it did.”
“So the staff shall live to see another day?” She didn’t know why she was instigating conversation, why she was so reluctant to let him go, to let him end the evening. She hadn’t completely closed the door on them making love tonight, but he obviously had. She should be relieved.
“So long as their performance remains up to par.”
He turned away from her, and she couldn’t keep herself from admiring the view. The broad set of his shoulders, his lean waist and his muscular butt were far too tempting a treat to pass up. She had to get her thrills somewhere. And before Marco it had been a long time since she’d gotten any. And those had been innocent thrills, mild in comparison to the kind of sensations that were pinging through her body now, electrifying the blood that was charging through her veins.
“I’ll probably just go to bed,” she said.
Marco turned and watched her look forlornly at the long couch. She was probably weighing her need to keep up her hard-to-get act versus her need for a good night’s sleep—although she wouldn’t find a good night’s sleep on the couch or in his bed.
He went into the office without bothering to watch her make her final decision. His body ached with need and it unsettled him. Yes, it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, much longer than he was accustomed to, but that did not excuse the intensity of the
desire that had him hard, throbbing, and unable to concentrate.
Ironic that he had never come close to proposing marriage to a woman in his life, and the one he had married seemed to avoid physical contact with him at all costs. But she desired it as he did. She wanted him too. But something was stopping her from making the final step. It could all be part of her act—playing at reluctance in order to build his level of sexual frustration to a fever pitch. Or she could be genuinely opposed to conducting a physical relationship. He couldn’t discount that possibility.
But, whatever her reasoning, he was still left with a raging hard-on and no satisfaction in sight.
He clenched his fists and turned his attention to his laptop, trying to turn his normally high-performing mind to the task at hand. It was a futile attempt. His body was talking much louder than his brain tonight.
And he wasn’t the type of man to practice self-denial.
Despite the fact that as far as her body was concerned it was the early hours of the morning, she knew she was far too keyed-up to get any sleep. She wandered through the villa, pausing to enjoy the native Hawaiian-style artwork before wandering into the bathroom.
She needed a bath to settle her mind and her body. But the bathroom that was at the “safe” end of the villa—the end that didn’t take her anywhere near Marco’s office or bedroom—only had a shower, and she was desperate for her nightly ritual.
She opened the glass door that led to the outdoor courtyard. Low stone walls and a vine covered lattice roof offered privacy, but also allowed her to see the jade-green bay, turned gray by the silver moonlight.
A massive jet tub sat in the corner of the courtyard. A freestanding wooden rack with towels and a white silk bathrobe was situated by the tub. She sighed. Stress relief was at hand. It wouldn’t relieve any of her other physical issues, but it would help loosen her knotted shoulders.
She turned the gilded taps and experimented with the assorted essential oils that had been placed on the towel rack. Candles were placed on the four corners of the tub, and a lighter had been left nearby. She bent over and lit each candle. It was the perfect setting. Relaxing. Sensual. Romantic. It was a bath designed for two. But only one would be taking it. And it was better that way.
She slipped out of her clothes quickly, her eyes darting to the door, praying that Marco didn’t pick that moment to explore this portion of the villa, and stepped into the tub. Or maybe, a treacherous voice spoke up, it would be more interesting if he did. She banished the unapproved thought and sank beneath the water, letting the scent of mint and vanilla wash over her, relaxing her body and her mind.
It was so easy to imagine Marco sitting behind her, her head pillowed on his muscular chest, her body wedged between his masculine thighs, the rough hair abrading her soft skin…Her heart began to pound heavily, and her body began to feel a whole different kind of languor.
She stood from the tub abruptly and reached for one of the jade-green towels, drying her over-sensitive skin quickly before wrapping herself in a robe. She stepped out of the water and welcomed the slight bite of the night air. She needed something to cool her down.
She padded over to the far end of the courtyard and out the gate that led to the large wooden deck that was attached to the villa. She leaned against the railing and gazed down into the koi pond, watching the fat orange fish swim lazily through the water. Her heart was still pounding and her breath was coming out in short, uneven bursts.
She drew a shaky hand over her face. She had a feeling she was fighting a losing battle. Maybe the key was to stop fighting. She wanted Marco. She didn’t want to get married for real, and fall in love—at least not in the foreseeable future—but she honestly didn’t want to die a virgin either. Not that she’d ever worried about it much before.
If she slept with Marco she ran the risk of getting in too deep. She knew that women sometimes underestimated the effect sex had on them. But if she went into it with her eyes open and viewed it as a learning experience, was able to be detached…maybe then it would work.
“I was looking for you.” Marco’s husky whisper drew her from her reverie. She turned to face him and her throat dried. He was so impossibly handsome, so amazingly, sensationally masculine. He made everything feminine inside of her quiver with expectant longing.
“I took a bath,” she said, hoping the silver moonlight disguised the blush she knew was staining her cheekbones. “It helps me relax.”
He moved closer to her, his eyes black in the dim light, the planes of his face thrown into sharp relief. He reached a hand out and cupped her cheek, stroking it lightly with his thumb. She shivered, and she felt her nipples tighten and press against the thin, insubstantial fabric of the robe, her aching flesh calling for his attention, his touch.
He tipped her chin up and she met his eyes, shocked by the stark hunger she saw in them—a hunger that reflected her own. “If I kiss you I won’t stop,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “Not until you’re naked beneath me, crying out my name.”
She licked her lips. He remained still, his uncompromising gaze locked on hers. He was putting her in control, making her take the final step. She couldn’t refuse him. Not again. She didn’t have the willpower or the desire to walk away from him.
“Marco.” She hoped he didn’t notice the tremor in her voice. “Kiss me. Now.”
And then his mouth was on hers, hot, hungry and consuming. He pulled her into his body, pressing his insistent arousal against her center. She moved her hips reflexively, and gasped at the sensations that radiated through her.
He parted her lips and thrust his tongue deep into the recesses of her mouth. She let her tongue glide against his, the friction nearly buckling her knees. She had never been kissed like this, so deeply and passionately. The ember that had been smoldering low in her belly caught fire and burned through her, white heat streaking through her veins. Every nerve ending, every cell, was on high alert. Every feeling was magnified. Desire had become something wild and uncontrollable. Want had become need, desperate and as necessary as her next breath.
Marco moved his hand to her waist and the flimsy robe slipped from her body, leaving her totally exposed to the cool night air and to him. He drew back for a moment, taking in the sight of her body. She wanted to cover herself, but fought the urge. She’d never been naked in front of a man before, and she was overwhelmed by a surge of self-consciousness, but she didn’t want to look like the gauche virgin that she was. She wasn’t about to confess to that. Not now. Not with him. He would probably laugh at her, if he believed her at all. She closed her hands into fists and managed to keep them at her sides.
“You are such a beautiful woman.” He stroked her aching nipple with one callus-roughened thumb and she gasped at the exquisite sensation that arrowed from her breast to her core.
A broken cry escaped her lips, and any thoughts of modesty flew from her mind. She moved to embrace him again, pressing her naked body against him, not caring that he was still fully clothed. He gripped her rear end and drew her tightly into him. The buttons of his shirt teased her breasts, his belt buckle, and beneath that his clothcovered erection, pressed into her belly. This time her knees did give way. Only his firm grasp kept her from melting into a puddle at his feet.
He locked his lips over hers again and smoothed his hands up her body, skimming them lightly over her curves. She was beginning to feel lightheaded. Tension was coiling in her pelvis, so tight it was nearly unbearable. He cupped her breasts with his hands, rolling his thumbs over their taut peaks. The muscles at her feminine core pulsed and she gasped into his mouth.
He removed one of his hands and cursed. He drew away from her and she saw that he’d been reaching for his wallet.
“What?” she asked. Her body was so tense, so needy. She needed his hands again, his mouth.
“I don’t have a condom,” he said simply.
She laughed weakly, not quite able to believe she was having this conversation with him. “The hotel
has an excellent concierge.”
He groaned. “It will take far too long. I need you now, cara mia.”
A thrill of feminine power shot through her. His need was the same as hers. He felt just as desperate and aching and close to the edge.
“I’m on the pill,” she blurted, silently thanking the doctor who had suggested she start taking birth control to regulate her cycle.
He looked at her for a moment, his expression implacable. “I’m healthy. I always use condoms. Even when the woman is on some other form of birth control.”
“I’m healthy,” she promised. On that point she was certain.
And then she was back in his arms, his kisses fierce and possessive. She began to undo the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt with shaking fingers, her heart thundering in her ears. When the shirt fluttered to the floor all she could do was stare dumbly in admiration at the perfection that she had uncovered.
“I want to touch you,” she said.
He chuckled. “Be my guest.”
His breath came out in a hiss when her cool hands came into contact with his hot, sweat-slicked skin. She could feel his heart pounding heavily beneath her palm, the erratic rhythm mirroring her own. She let her hands roam over his lightly hair-roughened pectoral muscles and down his washboard flat abs, reveling in the hardness and heat that radiated from his gorgeous body. She trailed a finger down the line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.
He sucked in a breath and gripped her wrist, halting her exploration. “I think it’s time to find a bed,” he ground out.
“I thought you were accustomed to making do with the floor.” She didn’t recognize the husky, sultry voice that came out of her mouth.
“Minx.” He lifted her off her feet and into his arms, taking long strides into the house.
“Caveman,” she said, breathless.
He crossed the large villa quickly, his heavy footfalls echoing the pounding of her heart.
“You bring that out in me,” he said, setting her on her feet in front of the canopied bed.
