The Temporary Mrs. Marchetti (Mills & Boon Modern)

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  He turned her over so she was on top, his hands cupping her breasts, his dark gaze consuming her as a starving man did a meal he had long waited for in frustrated agony. Alice bent forward over him, her hands placed either side of his head, her hair falling forward to tickle his chest and shoulders. She moved her body in time with his, finding the extra friction that sent her over the edge. The savage pleasure pulsed through her in ever expanding waves like a boulder dropped in a pond. Every part of her body felt the rippling flow of release, until finally a warm soothing tide of lassitude was left in its wake.

  His release was close behind hers, the spasms so powerful she could feel them echoing against the walls of her intimate flesh. She could see, too, the contortion of ecstasy played out on his face, and hear his sexy, breathless grunts that made her skin lift in a shower of goose bumps.

  Cristiano rolled her back under him, and, balancing his weight on his elbows, he brushed the damp tendrils of hair back off her forehead. ‘You never fail to surprise me.’

  Alice teased the curls at the back of his neck with her fingers. ‘In what way?’

  He outlined her mouth with a lazy fingertip, the top lip and then the bottom one until her lips were tingling, his eyes sexily hooded. ‘You respond to me like no one else.’

  Alice didn’t want to be reminded of all the other women he had slept with since her. Even if he hadn’t brought them back here, she knew he had slept with dozens of women elsewhere. All those hook-ups in his hotels. Night after night. Year after year. It was too painful to think about—especially while her body was still thrumming with the magic of his touch.

  She knew it was inconsistent of her to be so petty about it since she’d been the one to end their relationship. But the thought of him making love to someone else with the same intensity was nothing short of torture. How many women? Had he looked at them the way he looked at her? Had he touched them the way he had touched her? Was he making comparisons? Finding her a disappointment now he’d revisited their intimacy?

  She dropped her hands from his hair and began to push against his chest. ‘You’d better take care of that condom before we end up with more than a six-month marriage.’

  A frown brought his brows together, his eyes studying hers for a beat or two. But then he rolled away and got off the bed and dealt with the condom. He picked up a bathrobe from the hook behind the door and slipped his arms into it and loosely tied the ties. ‘Are you on the pill?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He bent to pick up his trousers from the floor and hung them over the back of a chair near the window. His expression had gone back to neutral but Alice couldn’t help feeling he was annoyed with her again. She could see it in the way he was restoring order to the room. It was his way of controlling his feelings. A battening down of the emotional hatches, so to speak. Funny, but she hadn’t realised he did that until now.

  She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them, watching him fold his shirt he’d taken from her body such a short time ago. ‘You’re angry.’

  He tossed the shirt to one side as if it personally offended him, and frowned at her. ‘What gives you that idea?’

  Alice unlocked her arms from around her knees and got off the bed, taking the bed throw rug with her as a sarong. ‘I’m going to take a shower while you play housemaid.’

  His hand captured her arm on the way past and he turned her to face him. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘You’re cleaning up the room as if you want to forget what just happened.’ Alice unpeeled his fingers one by one, shooting him a look. ‘Of course I’m on the pill. Do you think I’d sleep with you if I wasn’t?’

  His eyes held hers in a lock. ‘Even the pill isn’t foolproof. You could miss a dose or have an absorption problem.’

  ‘True, so that’s why we have to be careful.’

  Even though every time I think about a baby my ovaries start jumping up and down in excitement.

  His gaze continued to bore its way into hers. ‘So you’re as adamant as ever over not having kids?’

  Alice hoped he couldn’t hear her eggs jostling and shoving each other and saying, Let me go first!

  ‘My business is my baby. It takes all my energy and commitment. I don’t have room in my life for a child. Anyway, what’s with the inquisition? You’re not thinking of making an heir and spare to inherit your millions, are you?’

  The skin around his mouth tightened until it was more white than tan. ‘No.’

  ‘That’s quite a change from the man seven years ago who couldn’t wait to start a family.’

  ‘I have different goals now.’

  ‘What did your grandmother think about that?’

  Cristiano’s expression turned rueful. ‘She wasn’t happy about it. She only had my father and would’ve loved more children but it never happened. She had a stillbirth before my father and numerous miscarriages after.’ He let out a long slow breath and continued. ‘She adored my mother. She treated her as if she were her own daughter. There was none of that mother-in-law angst everyone talks about. My mother loved Nonna as much if not more than her own mother. Family was everything to Nonna.’

  Alice had seen that love of family first hand when she’d met Volante Marchetti. Even though the old woman had not long ago lost her husband Enzo, she had been nothing but warm and loving and welcoming towards Alice. And when it came to Cristiano, well, Alice had felt slightly envious to see the depth of love the old woman had for him. There were parents who didn’t love their children more than Volante had loved her grandson. ‘Why do you think she wanted you to marry me? Surely she must’ve known it was the last thing either of us would want?’

  ‘I’m not sure...’ He dragged a hand down his face, the sound of his palm scraping against his stubbly jaw loud in the silence. ‘No, that’s not quite true. She was unhappy with how I was living my life. She was quite vocal about it towards the end. She wanted the best for me, and, in her mind, didn’t think I was getting it.’

  Alice gave a soft little snort. ‘I hardly think I’m the best thing that’s ever come into your life.’

  Cristiano’s gaze met hers for a long beat of silence. ‘Nonna would disagree.’

  ‘That’s very kind of her, but I’m—’

  ‘It’s fine, Alice,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to hold you to our agreement longer than necessary. I’m only allowing it to go this far because I can’t allow those shares to get into my cousin Rocco’s hands. I’m not going to watch everything my parents worked so hard for go down the mouth of a poker machine or on a gaming table.’

  Alice frowned. ‘Didn’t your grandmother know about his gambling tendencies?’

  He shook his head, his look grim. ‘I made the decision not to tell her. Stupid, I know now in hindsight. But she was so ill and frail and I didn’t want to send her to her grave with that worry on top of everything else. She changed her will a week or two after her diagnosis.’

  ‘Would you have tried to stop her if you’d known at the time what she planned to do?’

  He seemed to consider it for a moment. ‘I’m not sure... Yes, no, maybe. It was what she wanted so what right did I have to try and change her mind? She wasn’t suffering from dementia or any mental impairment brought on by her illness. She had a right to compose a will that reflected her dying wishes, and yet... I wish I’d warned her about Rocco, but, to be honest, I’m not sure I would have even if I’d known what she planned to do. She adored him. He’s her late sister’s only child and her godson. It would have broken her heart to know he wasn’t the golden boy she believed him to be.’

  Alice shifted her mouth from side to side, thinking about Volante Marchetti with her razor-sharp mind and intelligent gaze. Not much would have escaped that wise old bird’s eye. ‘What if she did know?’

  Cristiano looked at her blankly. ‘Know what? About Rocco?’

  ‘Yes. Maybe she knew you would do anything to save those shares from being frittered away,’ Alice sa
id. ‘Anything, as in marrying your enemy.’

  He gave her a sideways smile and glided a hand down the length of her bare arm, making her skin lift in a veil of goose bumps. ‘Is that what we are? Enemies?’

  Alice put her hand to his face, sliding it down the raspy skin of his cheek. ‘Well, you could say we are, except now we’re making love not war.’

  He gathered her close, locking his hips against hers, stirring her senses into overdrive with the heated probe of his body. ‘I thought you were going to take a shower?’

  She moved against him, her inner core leaping in excitement to find him hard as stone. ‘I was. Want to join me?’

  He unwrapped her from the throw, his eyes going to her breasts. He bent his head and covered one tightly budded nipple with his mouth, drawing on the puckered flesh until she was restless with clawing need. She worked on his trousers, unzipping them with more haste than finesse. His mouth came down on hers in a scorching kiss, his tongue tangling with hers in a tango of lust that made her blood all but sizzle in her veins. She could feel the swell of her most intimate flesh, the dragging sensation of need that was part pain, part pleasure. His hands gripped her by the hips, holding her to the pulsing heat of his body, his chest crushed against her breasts, the masculine hair tickling and teasing her sensitised skin.

  Cristiano took her by the hand and led her to the en suite. He prepared himself with a condom while he waited for the shower to get to the right temperature, and then stepped in with her. The water cascaded over their bodies, heightening Alice’s senses as his hands skimmed her wet, naked flesh. She pressed her lips to his chest, kissing her way down to his navel, circling her tongue and then bending down in front of him so she could take him in her mouth. She had never pleasured another partner this way. Had never wanted to. Had made excuses not to. The thought of doing it with someone else was almost repugnant. But with Cristiano it felt like a sacred act, one that was mutually pleasurable, for she loved feeling the potent strength of him against her lips and tongue. She loved hearing his groans, and witnessing his knees buckle when she drew on him. She loved feeling his hands gripping her head to anchor himself against the tumultuous throb of release.

  But this time he wouldn’t let her take him over the edge. He pulled away from her and brought her back to her feet. Then he bent down so he was between her parted thighs, his mouth working its magic on her feminine folds. He knew exactly what pressure and what speed to trigger the explosion. It rocked through her body like a torpedo, sending ripples of delight through every cell until her thighs tingled as if they were being trickled with fine sand.

  Alice tugged him by the hair to get him to stand up, pressing her mouth to his and tasting her own essence on his lips and tongue. He moved from her mouth down to her neck, nudging and nuzzling her while he positioned himself. She guided him with her hand, lifting one leg so it was balanced on his hip, a gasp puffing out of her lips when he surged into her with his own raw groan.

  The water falling over them added another sensory delight, the rocking speed of his thrusts ramping up her need until she was on the knife-edge, teetering there but unable to go any further. Cristiano pulled out and, with a sexy glint in his eyes, turned her so that her back was to him. Alice planted her hands on the marble wall of the shower, standing on tiptoes so he could gain the access he wanted.

  There was something about this position that had an element of wickedness about it. A primitive wickedness that was as thrilling as it was slightly shocking. He moved between her buttocks, the hot glide of his engorged flesh tantalising her senses until she was breathing hard in excitement. He surged into her wetness, the different angle catching her right where she needed it, the fast-moving friction of his urgent thrusts triggering an orgasm so powerful she felt it move through her like a high-speed missile. The whirlpool of pleasure stole every conscious thought, leaving her spinning in a swirling black sea of magic.

  Cristiano gave three more powerful thrusts, his legs quaking against hers, his breathing rough and uneven next to her ear. Alice waited for him to collect himself before she turned in his arms, locking her arms around his neck and pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth. His hands settled on her hips, his mouth moving against hers with slow, heart-tripping deliberation.

  After a long moment, he lifted his head, his gaze dark, rich and gleaming with sexual satiation. ‘Like old times, sì?’

  Alice licked her tongue over his lower lip, leaning into the hard warmth of his body. ‘Better.’

  Way, way better.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CRISTIANO WOKE NOT long before dawn to find Alice nestled up against his chest soundly asleep. Her hair was tickling his chin but he didn’t have the heart to disturb her. Or maybe it was more because lying here with her was like time travelling back to a time in his life when he’d felt he had ticked all the boxes. Felt complete and satisfied in a way he hadn’t since. One of her hands was resting against his chest, right over his heart. Her silken legs were entwined with his in an intimate linkage that made his blood stir.

  Would this hunger for her ever be satisfied? How many times had they made love last night? He had been like a randy teenager. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Was it a case of making up for lost time or...something else?

  He didn’t want to think about the something else.

  He wasn’t sure why he’d told Alice about his reluctance to sleep with anyone else here since her. Why should he care if she thought he’d bedded anything in a skirt for the last seven years? But somehow what they’d shared under this roof had meant something to him even if it hadn’t to her. He hadn’t wanted to dilute those memories with a host of other bodies, other faces, other smiles, and other perfumes. Or maybe it was a form of self-flagellation. A perpetual punishment for being so foolish to believe she had been The One.

  No. He was fine with things as they were. What could be better than to make the most of their ‘forced’ time together? Wasn’t that what he’d wanted? A chance to get her out of his system so he could finally move on with his life?

  It was a good plan.

  An excellent plan.

  Why had his nonna orchestrated it other than to force him to revisit his relationship with Alice? His grandmother knew his life hadn’t been the same since Alice left. She knew he hadn’t moved on. Not properly. But to leave half of the Stresa villa to her seemed a bit of an extreme measure. Not that he’d let on to Alice how much the place meant to him. He’d let her think the company shares were his focus. The lakeside villa—like this one in Milan—had been in the Marchetti family for a hundred and fifty years. To lose one pebble, let alone half of the property, to someone outside the family was unthinkable. Even if it was to Alice, with whom he’d had the most passionate affair of his life.

  There was nothing to stop her selling her share out from under him when their marriage ended. There was no guarantee she would give him first option. She might not even want to sell her share, which would mean he would have to sell his, or deal with having to share the villa with her on an ongoing basis. He could think of nothing worse than having to negotiate times to visit so he didn’t run into her new lover or house-party guests. His family home reduced to a time-share property? Unbearable.

  Alice’s breathing was soft and even, but every now and again she would release a little purring sigh of contentment and nestle even closer. How many times had he watched her like this in the past? Dreaming of their future together, the life they would live, the children they would have, the happiness they would create together to make up for the tragedy he’d experienced.

  He had her back in his bed, but would it be enough?

  It would have to be because there was no way he was going to offer her anything else. His days of wearing his heart on his sleeve—or anywhere on his person, for that matter—were well and truly over. His heart was in lockdown. In solitary confinement. No walks in the exercise yard. No day release. No bail. No parole.

  This thing between him an
d Alice was about lust now, not love. A lust that would burn brightly for a while and then gradually fade away just like every other relationship he’d had.

  Except with her.

  Cristiano sidestepped the thought. He would not allow himself to think like that. This was for now, not for ever. He wasn’t a ‘for ever’ guy now.

  He was a ‘for the moment’ man.

  Alice opened her eyes and blinked up at him like a baby owl. ‘Is it time to get up?’

  Cristiano was already ‘up’. His body had been up ten minutes ago when her legs had wrapped around his and her hand had slipped to his abdomen. ‘Not yet.’ He brushed back her tousled hair. ‘There’s no hurry.’

  She gave him a naughty-girl smile when her hand slid lower and found him fully erect. ‘No hurry, huh?’

  Cristiano sucked in a breath when her hand started working its wicked magic. She licked her lips and slithered down his body, breathing her sweet hot breath over his abdomen and groin. No one but Alice could reduce him to this—to a quaking wreck of a man without the strength of will to stop her. He barely had time to source a condom before she took him to the stratosphere.

  He sank back against the pillows to regain his breath, his arm drawing her close to his side. ‘Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be right with you.’

  He felt her smile against his chest where her cheek was resting. Her fingers did a piano-playing exercise on his right pectoral muscle. ‘Is sex this good with your other partners?’ she asked after a moment.

  Cristiano had already revealed a little too much in that department. No point giving her more ammunition. ‘Fishing, cara?’

  She made a pouting gesture and went to move away but he held her still. He turned so she was trapped beneath him. She refused to meet his gaze so he inched up her chin so she had no choice. Her blue eyes glittered with resentment but behind that he could see doubt and insecurity moving like shadows. ‘I’m not a kiss-and-tell man,’ he said. ‘I consider it disrespectful.’