I shouldn’t want to know, though.
Will was right—it had been way too long since I’d had sex (hell, any kind of orgasm), and that was the only reason Mr. Tall D. Handsome was having such a bruising effect on me. Certainly, that was why. I’d never had trouble remaining professional before.
Now if only I didn’t need to remind myself of that every five minutes I breathed the same air as Marco Valenti.
Marco. Yes, I liked that name better for him than Marc. Marc-O. He would definitely deliver a big O, I was sure of that.
I’d be shouting merda, myself, pretty soon if I kept it up.
“Dude. You all right?” Will snapped his fingers in front of me.
“What?” I blinked. Marco was talking to a few people who had approached him, and fans shoved various items in his face to sign.
One full chested woman had slipped her tank top strap off, asking him to sign at the top of her swell of flesh.
I watched in surprise as Marco held his hands up and said something to her while shaking his head.
He looked away from her and back to the other fans without signing any part of her body. Interesting. Most professional athletes I had encountered, even the married ones, had been more than willing to sign anything.
“You’re surprising me.” Will was in my ear, and I took a step back.
“What are you talking about?” I crossed my arms but kept my focus on the backside of Marco. I couldn’t seem to unglue my eyes from his perfect ass.
“You’re breaking your rule about falling for a player. And he’s a player you’re writing a story about, no less.”
I gasped and faced my friend. His light hazel eyes glowed in pretty contrast to his dark skin.
“Will, I’m not falling for him.” Visualizing Marco naked and wondering what he’d feel like inside me, sure. But falling for someone implied a deep emotional connection, right?
“Ha!”
My arms dropped as Marco approached, and I cleared my throat, warning Will to drop the subject.
“You’ve got restraint, man. If a girl basically dropped her top and asked me to sign her chest, I’d be signing my phone number.” Will laughed. “But then again, you probably get that five times a day.”
Marco shrugged, and his cheeks widened to expose his dimples. “Where to now?”
“I’d like to get a few shots at some of the ruins over there.” Will pointed up above my shoulder. “The Pantheon, too? Tomorrow or—”
“I’m not free tomorrow. I can meet the day after, though,” Marco interrupted.
“Oh.” I guess I couldn’t expect to spend every day with him. Besides, it was past time to stop by the magazine’s office in Rome. Marco wanted the story to stay small, and so I needed to go to bat for him.
Oh, but it was Friday. Shoot. Well, perhaps my aunt and uncle who lived in Naples could visit tomorrow, or I could take the train to see them.
“Sounds good,” Will said, and we started walking again.
“I love these trees,” I commented as we moved through the Roman ruins. The umbrella pine trees dotted the city, with smooth, curved crowns made of needle-like leaves. They’re majestic, I decided, as I almost lost my footing on the uneven, cobblestone pavement. Unlike myself.
Marco’s hand was at my elbow, and I flinched at his touch. “Thank you.” I smiled. “Grazie, I mean.”
Marco’s lips curved into a semi-smile. “They write poetry about these trees.”
“Know any?” I challenged.
“I’d never admit it if I did.” He laughed.
Over my shoulder, I caught Will a few feet away, snapping photos of Marco and me. What was he doing?
I scowled at Will, and he dropped his camera with an exaggerated shrug. “What?” he mouthed silently. Sure, he could act innocent all he wanted, but I knew he was up to no good.
“You should stop and stretch,” Marco suggested.
“What? Why?” Marco was studying my legs, which strode beneath a flowy pink skirt that ended above my knees.
“The uneven pavement can give horrible pain to your legs if you walk on it for long.”
Was he talking about shin splints? “I’ll be fine.” I waved my hand dismissively and started walking again.
Along the way Will took more photos of Marco, and then Marco got held up by fans for twenty minutes.
I wasn’t sure if I could ever endure that kind of fame.
For the most part, the fans were all nice. Only a couple bothered him about why he had quit, and Marco did his best to brush it off, but I could sense the change in his demeanor after those incidences. His lips would go tight, and he’d arch his shoulders back as if he were trying to push through some invisible pain and slush on through it.
We spent the next hour at the Pantheon, admiring the most preserved building from ancient Rome. The inside of the building proved to be even more stunning than the exterior. I had stared up at the dome, which had an opening to the sky—and I had been mesmerized, almost as star struck by the building as I’d been the first time I’d seen it, years ago.
It blew my mind that people were capable of building such amazing structures thousands of years ago. I could almost feel the walls whispering the secrets of the past.
“We’re good. We can set you free,” Will announced as we exited the building.
“You in a rush to get somewhere?” I asked pointedly.
A sheepish grin from Will meant yes. “Um.”
“The girl from last night?” I probed as Marco was pulled off to the side by yet another fan.
Will nodded. “Do you mind spending the evening on your own? Say the word and I’ll cancel.”
“Word,” I joked and slapped him on the chest. “Go have fun. I’ll head back to the hotel and maybe do some research and write.”
Or nap.
“Thanks, babe.” Will left my side and said goodbye to Marco.
“What now?” Marco asked after he tipped his head goodbye to a few lingering fans.
“You’re off the clock. Will has a hot date, so I guess I’ll head back to the hotel.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“Thanks.” His fingers brushed against mine as we walked, and I tried my best not to flinch at his touch. We moved down the streets, and I observed the colorful buildings as we walked into the heart of the city.
I wanted to talk, to ask him questions, but for some reason, my lips remained closed. Since he wasn’t pushing a conversation, I saw no need to, either.
“Valenti!”
I whipped my head over my shoulder to see a bunch of young kids playing soccer in a nearby park. One of them had spotted Marco, and the other kids began to run his direction. They were probably seven or eight years old.
“Maybe I’ll kick the ball with them for a few minutes if you don’t mind?” Marco whispered in my ear, his breath whistling through my hair.
“Of course.” I sank onto a bench on the field and watched in sheer awe as the kids crowded around Marco. He was smiling as he bounced the ball off his head and moved down the field with the kids, kicking the ball into the goal.
The kids threw their hands up in answer and howled.
My heart began to hurt as it grew in my chest. This side of Marco had to be in my story. I had to share with the world this man, who put his life on hold to make children happy, who took joy in the joy of others. Marco would probably hate it, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to resist. I dug into my purse for my phone and snapped a few photos.
He spent a good hour with the kids. After, he headed my way with the gang in tow. “I’m going to buy them some gelato,” he told me, pointing across the way. “Would you like some?”
How could I say no? I bit back the urge to swipe the dark strand of hair off his sweat-damp forehead and just nodded, instead. He had his hands on one of the boy’s shoulders as they moved across the street, and his other hand was moving in the air.
Probably giving the kid advice about the game.
Marco orde
red the gelatos and found me standing near the Trevi Fountain.
“That place has the best gelato in all of Rome.” Marco shoved one hand in his pocket and pulled it back out. “No coin. Sorry.”
“Huh?” I couldn’t tear my eyes off the muscular statue of Carrara marble in the middle of the fountain.
“You must make a wish on the fountain, no? But I don’t have a coin.”
“Last time I was here I made a wish, and it didn’t come true.” I dug into my purse and found a quarter.
“You must not have made the right wish.” Marco winked at me and covered his hand over mine. “I’m giving you some good energy to help make sure your wish comes true.” His eyes closed and I inhaled his scent, which was a mix of sweat and cologne. I never thought I’d enjoy the scent of someone who’d worked up a sweat, but oh how I’d been wrong.
When Marco’s eyes opened, I took a step back from him, needing a moment to breathe. My hand dropped to my side, and I squeezed the coin tight in my hand.
“Make a wish,” Marco urged as the kids came up behind us, ice cream in hand.
I shut my eyes and tossed the coin in the fountain, but for some reason all that came to mind was an image of Marco . . . and nothing else.
“I hope you get what it is that you wished for,” he murmured into my ear before clapping his hands at the kids. He spoke to them in Italian, and one of the boys approached me.
“Scusi.” He said something else in Italian and handed me the gelato.
My hand went to my heart. “Aw. Grazie.”
The boy blushed.
“A future Marco Valenti, I see,” I responded, but I wasn’t sure if he understood. He returned to his friends, who were huddled around Marco.
The gelato was creamy deliciousness, and the icy cold was exactly what I needed.
“Ciao. Ciao.” Marco was waving goodbye to them as I finished.
“That was amazing,” I told him as we began to move away.
“It is nothing.” He waved a dismissive hand and tucked both hands in his pockets. “Although I’m in desperate need of a shower now.”
I nodded, and my stomach rumbled. “What time is it?”
“Almost three o’clock.”
I realized that we’d never stopped to eat lunch. “I need to grab a bite to eat. I’m starving.”
Marco stopped walking down the sidewalk and angled his head. “Would you like to eat me?” He blushed. “Ah, scusi. I mean, eat with me?”
A thought of Marco’s naked body before me—me on my knees—flashed to my mind and my skin pebbled with desire. “Sure.” I had to force the hot thoughts away. “We can eat.”
“We could eat at my place if you’d like?”
“I—um—” A battle raged in my head. “Maybe I could clean up first?”
He untucked his hands from his pockets. “You can shower at my place, too. We can even dip in my pool and cool off first.” His hand moved to my face then to the back of my neck, and I stumbled forward a step.
“I—I don’t have a suit.” I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Was he going to kiss me? “I probably should grab some clothes from the hotel.”
He looked beyond me, over my shoulder, then muttered in Italian and dropped his hand, moving a few inches away. “Paparazzi.” He shook his head, and I followed his gaze to the man who was taking photos of us on the other side of the street.
“I have plenty of clothes at my place.” He looked back at me.
Clothes from whom? His ex?
Well, it wasn’t like we were dating. If I acted weird about wearing his ex’s clothes, that would make it look like I had feelings for him.
“Okay, if you don’t mind,” I conceded.
He clapped his hands together. “Then it is settled. Come, let’s get my car and we’ll go before this paparazzi gets the wrong idea.”
“And what idea would that be?”
His eyes glinted. Instead of answering, he flashed me one of his sexy smiles and reached for my hand.
***
As we walked from Marco’s car, down the sidewalk lined with white rose bushes, I could feel the slow stir of pain develop in my shins. I was going to be in trouble later.
Greeted by two French doors at the arched entrance, we went inside his home. It was warm, but with contemporary furnishings. Massive wooden beams ran across the ceiling in the living room, and a beautiful see-through fireplace decorated the center of the space.
The villa had six bedrooms, two living areas, and a rather large eat-in kitchen. Marco also had an entertaining room with a pool table, as well as a theater room. But what had my jaw dropping was the outdoor space. The sun-washed terrace appeared to be suspended above the pool and the sea. The sunlight danced off the blue-green water and, for the first time in my adult life, a tiny spark of jealousy lit my mind.
I’d never thought about being rich, nor had I been envious of those with money. I grew up in a nice home and had a decent upbringing, but nothing like this.
Maybe someday I could stash away enough money to buy a little place on the water, even if it was only the Hudson River in New York.
“Your home is bellissima.”
He came up next to me on the deck with a champagne flute in his hand. “Grazie. I have not spent too much time in it with all my traveling, though.”
I hesitantly took the glass from him.
“I have cheese, crackers, and grapes as well.” He pointed to the platter behind me on the table between two chairs.
My stomach rumbled at the sight of the food. Marco had taken me for a joy ride in his Lamborghini along the sea on our way to his home.
“We can bring this down to the pool. We’ll eat and swim.”
Was I going to wear a swimsuit in front of him? Oh God.
“Follow me.”
He led me down a hall and to one of the guest rooms, which had a walk-in closet that was about the size of my living room back in New York.
“A lot of this stuff still has tags. Help yourself.”
I didn’t ask who had bought the clothes or why he kept them. I thanked him and waited for him to leave. Once the door was closed, I checked out the rows of clothes in the closet and pulled open a few drawers from the built-in dresser. I spotted several bikinis, which had clearly never been worn.
I opted for a bright orange, halter top bikini with black bottoms. The color gleamed pleasantly against my tanned skin.
I grabbed the black hair tie from my wrist—I always kept one there, just in case—and began twisting my long hair into a side braid.
I planted my hands on my hips and studied myself in the mirror. Then I twirled around, checking to be sure that my ass didn’t look fat. Mostly, I was pleased with how I looked. I hadn’t worked out since I’d arrived in Italy, but we hadn’t been here long enough to do too much damage.
I blew out a nervous breath, feeling a bit shaky and hoping it was from hunger only. Then I started down the hall and back to the deck. Marco was lying in a lounge chair by the pool as I made my way down the stairs to meet him.
He was dressed in white swim trunks, his naked chest rising above like a bronzed statue. I put on my sunglasses, hoping to hide the desire that was, no doubt, evident in my eyes. After all, he’d said he could, at times, see through me.
He sat upright as I approached him and removed his shades. Perhaps, unlike me, he had nothing to hide.
“Christo,” he whispered and stood.
So maybe when he cursed it was because . . . I stopped my train of thoughts and smiled at him. I forced myself to avoid dipping my gaze lower to check out his delicious abs and hip bones. Of course, I didn’t need to look—the memory of his naked chest from yesterday had been branded into my memory.
“Maggie, I see you found something to wear.” He ran a hand through his hair, and a few strands lay messily across his forehead. “I have never seen a bathing suit worn like that.”
I didn’t believe him. He was a pro-athlete who could probably get a swimsuit model if he
wanted—if he hadn’t already had one. Still, his eyes raked over my body, holding on to my breasts for a bit longer before steadying on my legs. He was making no attempt to hide his gaze, and for some reason, it didn’t bother me at all. In fact, I liked it.
A sudden groan escaped my lips, and I bent forward, touching my left and right shins. The slow build-up of pain came at me now, sharp and brutal.
“You got the pain, didn’t you?” He shook his head at me and knelt down at my feet. I stood back up and gasped as his fingers pressed to my calf muscles, his large hands working my flesh. “Sit.”
I fumbled back onto the chair that he’d occupied a moment before, and shut my eyes as he kneaded my skin. His hands were heaven as they massaged my calves and shins. I couldn’t bear to watch. Just the sensations were making me wet; if my eyes fell upon his hands as he touched me, I’d come completely undone.
I heard a soft sound escape his lips—a moan, maybe? I opened my eyes and watched as he released my legs and pushed up to his feet in a hurry. “Hopefully that helps.” He cleared his throat, and I couldn’t help but shift my attention down to his pants—but he turned around and dove into the pool without a backward glance.
I ripped my gaze from him as he began doing the breaststroke like he was an Olympian, and focused on my hunger. I reached for the food Marco had brought, munching and enjoying the feel of the sun on my skin.
After ten minutes or so, Marco stood in the shallow end, water dripping from his hair to his chest. He pushed the semi-long black strands of hair from his face and moved with slow steps toward me.
“Come in.”
I agreed with little hesitation, even though my brain protested. The lukewarm water felt good as I came down the steps into the shallow area. I moved deeper into the pool, to about four feet, where the water greeted my abdomen.
Marco closed the gap between us until we were only inches apart. “Do you feel better?” His eyes narrowed on me, and his lips drew tight.
“I do.” I sucked in a breath when his wet fingers touched my shoulders. His hands glided up my neck to cradle my face. The water cooled my flushed skin, but I kept my eyes on the base of his throat, unable to lift my eyes to meet his, too afraid of what I’d see.
Forever Rome (Forever #1) Page 7
