Outside, in the distance, the clash of a summer storm rumbled ever closer. Lightning streaked across the horizon and lit the sky, quickly followed by several boisterous claps of thunder.
Carly bolted upright. “What?”
Stark terror spread across her face, and her fear-filled gaze darted around the dimly lit room.
Marco was at her side instantly and crouched beside the sofa. “It’s a storm over the ocean. Not too close.”
But her face paled as a second and then a third jagged bolt of lightning cracked overhead. Rolls of thunder reverberated around them with an increasing viciousness and made their small cabin shake with each fresh burst.
“Not close?” Carly whimpered. “Could have fooled me. It’s loud enough.”
“Si.” But it wasn’t as loud as his heartbeat. To his ears, that thundered a thousand times louder. Marco swallowed hard as her now-familiar fragrance mingled with the tangled web of his thoughts. “You are afraid?”
“Don’t laugh.”
“You see me laughing?” he replied somberly. “It’s time for bed.” Bracing himself against the sofa, he bent and picked her up.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you to bed.”
“Bed.” It was a croak, and her eyes widened.
“Perhaps you would prefer to sleep on the sofa?”
He held her tightly. So tight he could feel the erratic throb of her heartbeat against his. Her fear of storms was obvious with each burst of thunder, but it was the subtle looks that passed from her to him, the way her heated gaze focused on him, his throat, rising to rest on his mouth, that told Marco Carly was as excited and aroused as he was.
“I hate storms.” Her gaze swiveled toward the window.
“Nature’s revenge on us mere mortals,” he agreed.
“It’s as if the whole world is angry.”
“Only fleeting, though. The sun will shine another day. I think you need to get some rest. It’s been an eventful day.”
He carried her over the threshold to her room and laid her gently on the bed at the precise moment lightning flashed, haloing the room in an eerie electric blue glow.
Carly squeezed her eyes shut again, counting aloud. “It’s a game, you see,” she said. “You count from the lightning to the thunder, then you’re meant to know how far away it is. Or close.”
“A children’s game?”
Carly simply nodded, because right at that moment nature didn’t disappoint, as one thunderous roll after another clapped overhead until the cabin seemingly would rock off its foundations.
Marco watched her with increasing concern. “You’ll be okay?” he asked.
She squeezed her eyes tighter, nodding, her lips moving as she silently continued to count.
“Good night, sweet dreams.”
Her eyes burst open. “You’re going?”
“I must go, cara. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise what?”
“Otherwise I might want to stay.”
“You don’t want to?”
“No, cara, I want to, and that is the problem.”
“Please stay, Marco. Just for a while.”
A while? A smile tugged the corners of his mouth, and he sat beside her.
Fear-filled eyes looked up at him. “Thank you. I know it’s irrational, but I hate to be alone in a storm.”
“I will stay.” With that, Marco stretched out beside her, his length shadowing hers. He pulled her to him, cradling her from her fears, and felt her exhale, long and slow. Her heartbeat that had moments ago echoed the deafening heavens when he’d carried her in his arms slowed, too.
“When I was a child, there was a storm,” she began.
“A bad one?”
“Yes. They said it was the storm of the decade. Mum had gone out, leaving me to babysit the younger ones.”
“You were alone?”
“Yes.”
“And that happened often?”
“More than it should. But it was my life. I didn’t know any different.”
“And you were alone in the storm?”
Carly turned away from the thrashing storm outside. “Windows broke, the rain lashed the house, inside and out. I didn’t know what to do. Then the power went out. I went outside to try and board up the windows, but I was only ten, Marco. Ten years old and trying to be an adult.” Tears gathered in her eyes.
“Too hard for a child,” he acknowledged. He held her hand, fingers lacing with hers, wishing he could have protected her then and wanting to protect her now, to ease her pain. “Shush, don’t cry.”
Turning her to him, he brushed his fingers down her cheek, wiping away her tears. Her breath stilled as his thumb caressed the outline of her mouth and his eyes held hers. Soulful and full of promise.
“Please don’t leave me tonight, Marco. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Are you sure?”
“Si,” she teased, her accent exaggerated.
“I can see I have to give you a few Italian lessons.”
“There’s a lot I’d like to learn.”
“Amore mio, I would teach you everything.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Marco’s touch set Carly on fire. It was sublime, everything she thought it would be, and more.
As she lay on the bed, she watched him strip, clothes falling where he dropped them. He was a magnificent man and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Broad shoulders tapered to slim hips, the smattering of jet-black chest hair beckoning her fingers. Carly lowered her gaze, suddenly filled with a raging, hungering need to explore his glorious body and any residual calm she thought she possessed shattered as he eased his long, taut body next to hers.
He reached for her, and her body grazed his, chest to chest, hip to hip, the hard sensual thrust of his arousal a potent reminder that Marco was all male. Slowly his eyes darkened to a blue-black, holding hers in a powerful force. His lips sought her mouth, arousing her with a whisper-soft touch. Carly groaned and her body yielded, arching against his. Marco’s breathing came in short, sharp intakes and the pulse in the base of his throat throbbed. She ran a finger over it, felt it skip an erratic dance. She couldn’t help but smile, enjoying his reaction to her.
“Lesson one,” he whispered in her ear.
Carly braced herself, waiting with excited expectation, her eyes closing the moment before he dropped soft, shivery kisses on her eyelids then her earlobes and continuing down to her throat.
Her skin burned with desire, her body consumed by a basic need. She wound her arms around his neck, holding on, praying it wasn’t a dream and, like a genie, he would vanish. With the tips of her fingers sliding through his silky hair, the texture a sensual play against her own soft skin, she tilted his head down to her breast.
“You taste delicious,” he groaned as he suckled on one pebble-hard nub.
Hearing his whispered ecstasy, she smiled, satisfied. Nothing else mattered. “I’m learning,” she managed to say between the teasing kisses he dotted across her lips, her eyes, her face.
“You’re a good student,” he agreed and sought solace from her other breast. “Your body is so responsive, cara mia.”
Carly couldn’t think clearly, her mind fragmented. She could only feel, touch and taste. All thought beyond the now was gone.
Reacting with a compulsion and desire so strong, she lifted her hips to his. His erection pulsed against her stomach and he began to explore her intimately, teasing her to even greater heights than she thought possible. Emboldened, she slipped her hand between them and clasped him, smiling as Marco exhaled a harsh, ragged gasp.
“Lesson number two.”
She smiled. “I try to please.”
“You do. Very much.”
Lost in a sensory world, Carly’s mind went blank. Only Marco touching her, urging her with his fingers as they flickered over her slickness, was important. She gloried in the sensations whirling through her veins, the rhythm of his heightened t
ouch. Finally, as she reached for some intangible goal, allowing her body to surrender completely, her cry of pleasure pierced the night as Marco brought her to heart-wrenching, joyous fulfillment.
Nothing had prepared Carly for this. Nothing. She lay dazed in utter contentment, savoring the spine-tingling moment, too happy to breathe, too fulfilled to think.
Finally, as every wonderful sensation washed over her in a gentle ebbing caress, she let out a shuddering sigh of total release and contentment. “That was beautiful.”
“Beauty for the beautiful, amore.” Marco grinned and trailed a finger down the side of her cheek. “Lesson number three, cara. A man makes sure his woman is pleased,” he whispered into the fall of her hair and again began dotting butterfly-soft kisses down the curve of her throat. It sent goose bumps shimmying up and down her spine, an instant heat pulsing between her thighs.
“You have pleased me. I’ve never…” Her voice trailed off, and an embarrassed heat rushed to her cheeks.
But Marco pulled back and the tip of his finger lifted her chin. Her gaze met his.
“Pleasure, Marco. That was the pinnacle of pleasure. I feel complete.” And she was. It echoed through her body in a continuous salve of pure joy and made her heart sing. “You’ve made me come alive. I don’t want to even breathe in case it disappears.” She ran her hands across his skin, reveling in the feel of it beneath her fingertips. “I never want to lose this feeling. To lose…”
“Shush. That is impossible. We have all night.” Dark, teasing glints flickered in Marco’s passion-filled eyes.
“All night. Sounds perfect.” Reaching up, Carly trailed a path over the rough sandpaper stubble of his chin. “Everything I touch is so heightened, so erotic and arousing,” she whispered. “Are our lessons finished?”
One dark eyebrow arched humorously. “Life is one long lesson.”
Carly curved a hand around his blatantly aroused penis, stroking the thick shaft. She arched back, her legs parting. “Then hadn’t we better get on with the lesson?” she asked with a wicked smile.
“The final lesson is about to begin. Kiss me. Now,” Marco instructed and with a gentleness that surprised and warmed her, he edged himself to her moist center, tentative and teasing as he nudged at her slick folds.
“Now, Marco. Please?”
He smiled down at her. “Patience, cara. A man needs to know his journey before he starts.”
Inch by delicious inch, Marco entered her. Carly reveled in the feel of him, wanting him to fill her. Faster. Harder.
“At last,” Marco sighed and captured her lips. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”
Lilting laughter slid from Carly. “A few days.”
“It seems a lifetime.”
Carly silently agreed. It did. For some unknown reason, she felt as if the past had dissolved. Only now mattered. Only being with him, holding him to her. She felt cherished… Even thinking the word took her by surprise. It was not something she’d felt before. Ever.
Marco was holding back, when what she wanted was for him to bury himself in her, deeply, over and over, but at the same time, take it slow so she could savor every single glorious second.
“You are Aphrodite, the temptress,” he said. “And I am definitely tempted. Your skin is silk and satin.” His voice was hoarse with need, with unmasked desire etched across his face. His hands caressed her in ever-increasing circles, from her breasts, down the flat plane of her stomach, lower and lower till he came to the junction of her thighs. He laved a path from one aroused nipple to the other with the tip of his tongue. “You taste of the ocean and of passion, Carly. I cannot wait. For two days your lushness has lured me. Now, we finish what we have started.”
Speech died in Carly’s throat as he took hungry possession of her mouth. She clasped his shoulders and pulled him to her.
More. She wanted more.
Her body yearned for him, craved his touch, the taste of him. He was her drug. His lips plundered hers, devouring, taking everything she had, everything she willingly offered with an equal need, until she rocked in unison with him and the flames of desire overtook her. Finally, he cried out her name, and together they soared to a deep and total fruition.
“Cara.” Marco’s strident voice interrupted her slumber. She rolled over. This wasn’t how it was meant to be—afterwards. She didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to dream, to remember, to…
“Wake up.”
Carly bolted upright, blinked several times and groaned as the morning light seared her barely awake brain. “What’s the matter?”
“We have a problem.” Marco spoke so matter-of-factly goose bumps slithered up and down her arms, a prickling fear welling in the pit of her stomach.
Was this how morning afters started? What was he going to say? Sorry, it was a mistake, can you please go to your own room. Carly looked about. She was in her own room. She didn’t want to hear this and shimmied down the bed, yanking the cover up over her. “Not now, Marco. I’m tired.”
Marco’s warm breath brushed across the curve of her neck. “I’m sorry, but we have to discuss this.”
She pushed the corner of the sheet away from her face and looked up into his very somber expression. It didn’t bode well. “What’s got you so serious this early in the morning? Don’t tell me you’re not a morning person,” she teased. She knew she was babbling. Anything to stay the execution.
“Cara.” Hearing the gentle but insistent tone in his voice, she sat up, careful to wrap the sheet about her. If it was over already, no need to let him get an eyeful, she thought sourly.
“Protection.”
She looked blank. “Protect…oh, my God.”
“Even He can’t help us. Are you?”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Yes.” Gone were the passion-filled eyes, the twinkling glint of mischief.
She blustered. “Yes, of course.” She waved a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t worry about it.” What were the chances? A one-off. Surely not?
Marco visibly relaxed, and Carly tried to follow his lead. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I could not hold back. I am a man. I should have had more sense. Next time…”
“Next time?”
“Si, like now, my sweet.” Marco grinned and glanced down at his erection. Her gaze followed. “Even now my body yearns for you, sweet Carly.”
“It does?” Oh, yeah, it sure did.
“But this time,” he said, turning to the side table beside the bed and reaching for the foil packet. “This time we are prepared, together.”
“Whoa hold on.” Carly eyed the condom packet. “They were there all along?”
“It seems your friends wanted to make sure you were prepared. Just as well.” He gave her a wink.
Carly had no time to reply, no time to think. Again, she could only feel as he circled her in his arms and led her on a journey of slow, body-tingling, mind-blowing lovemaking. A journey she never wanted to end, one she thought could never be repeated.
But it was. Over and over again.
Chapter Seven
The end had arrived.
Marco lay beside her, asleep, his breathing regular and one arm slung possessively across her waist.
Four days had come and gone. Funny how a few days ago she’d wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
As Marco turned toward her, his long, lean frame rubbed against her bare skin and the tangled sheets fell away, leaving him naked. Her eyes shuttered, blotting him out of view. She had to be strong. Get back to business.
But, just as it had the last few days, his touch sent an unwavering heat threading through her veins, lighting a deep and intense need to be with him, to feel him inside her. Shutting her eyes couldn’t drown out those feelings. They intensified every minute. It was as if his body was a current and sent a shaft of longing straight through her like an electric bolt.
Carly let out a heavy sigh, smothering the sound with her hand as a single tear t
railed down her cheek. She swiped at it and rolled away from the tempting heat of the man beside her. She didn’t want their time in paradise to end. She wanted it to go on—forever.
But forever didn’t happen. Forever wasn’t reality. It was impossible. She had a life. Marco had a life, though she still didn’t know much about it.
Okay, so he had an old bike. He was Italian and his mother was English. That summed up her entire knowledge of Marco Valente.
Just as she’d kept her life a secret.
These four days had been an emotional foreplay, a temptation of what life…
No.
Carly gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t go down that track. She had to remember her goals, her motivation.
Their time in paradise wasn’t infinite and, despite the lovingly sensual reality that had catapulted her into another world, making her lie awake for hours while he slept like a babe beside her, it had ended.
And that was that.
Easing from the bed, she snatched up her toweling robe and put it on, yanking the belt tight around her. Perhaps if she felt something other than Marco, it would jolt her back to undeniable reality. She needed time alone. Time when Marco’s body didn’t tempt her every second. She was addicted to this man. He was her drug.
On silent feet, she padded outside. The morning had barely woken, the sky a rainbow of colors as the sun tipped over the thick green crest of the island and the tuis and fantails began their morning chorus. Leaning against the porch railing, Carly pulled the collar of her robe up around her neck. It might be the heart of summer, but she was frozen to the bone. And confused.
Mindlessly, she stared out to the horizon.
Seagulls dipped and dived in a circle off shore. They’d obviously found their breakfast. The tide was on the wane, and a strip of dark, wet sand lay exposed—just like her heart, Carly admitted wryly. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to cry. Refused to give in.
Oh, God. What was she to do?
Marco Valente was one sexy man. He was also the man she had, in four short days, come to love—totally and utterly, with a pure intent that shocked her to the core. This wasn’t part of her life plan, part of her reality, but had snuck up on her, taking her unaware.
Romeo for Hire Page 8
