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Chapter 30:
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Walking into the pub, Marco nodded to the boys sitting at a table in the back. The pub was crowded. The warm evening brought people out of their houses. People were walking, eating and drinking—enjoying the temperate weather and the possibilities of the city.
"Quite a night," Brendon the bartender said—a New Zealander from Palmerston North, who had served their drinks since Marco had arrived in London. "Gonna be a mess later, but for now it's nice.”
"How are you, Brendon?"
"Good. Just got my pictures all sorted from Gallipoli. It was an awesome trip. You should go next year.”
"Yeah, maybe," Marco said.
"Got any travel planned?"
"Gotta go home.”
"No shit?"
"Wedding.”
"Long way to go for a wedding, but what can you do? You haven't been here all that long.”
"Coming up to eight months.”
"Geez, time travels fast. Feels like you just turned up last week," Brendon said and wiped down the bar.
Marco took his beer and nodded his thanks to Brendon before turning to his friends. He had to ask another table for a spare stool and squeezed in around their table, which was too small for their group, but they were lucky to have it in this crowd.
"Marco," Dion said. "Good to see you. We're going for a curry later. You in?"
"Sure. Why not?" Truthfully, he wasn't in the mood for a curry—he wasn't in the mood to be off the couch at all, but he'd forced himself to get dressed and get out of the house.
They talked about the latest game and the unfair referee calls. Such things required raking over and thorough debate. But Marco just couldn't get into it tonight. He hadn't been able to get into it for a while now and he needed to get out of this funk. Alex seemed to have drifted further away and he just needed to accept it, which was easier said than done.
An invitation to Damon and Jane's wedding had arrived that morning on stiff, cream-coloured paper with gold writing. Marco had stared at it for a good five minutes. It wasn't as if it was a surprise; Damon had told him a few weeks ago what they were planning. Their wedding was inevitable, but it was still a challenging concept. Damon had been Marco's hero growing up, with his fast paced lifestyle, endless gorgeous girls and success. Then he'd met Jane, who was lovely, and he'd changed—given it all up to be with her. And then Sam with Sebastian. But Marco had screwed it up royally. He'd met her—Alex—and he'd fucked it up, and now she was gone.
Analytically he knew he'd get over Alex eventually—he really hoped so—it just didn't seem like it just now. It was as though the colour had gone out of everything—the girls all seemed one dimensional and drab; the conversation was stilted and there was none of the excitement he used to feel going out for the evening.
Maybe this is what love did to you. It sucked and he really didn't want to go through this again. But he needed to recover and get back to being the person he used to be. The answer was not sitting on his couch watching TV, even though that's what he felt like doing. The answer was here, amongst his friends, with their long-running sports debates, coming and going girlfriends and the endless quest to get laid. It all just seemed so pointless, but it was his funky mood speaking—he knew that.
He would go out tonight. He would get drunk, get laid and get over this—even if he had to force himself every step of the way.
The club was loud and the music was pumping, beating against his chest and through his mind. Alcohol was singing in his body, but he wasn't drop-down drunk. They'd had a nice dinner and Marco had actually started to feel alright—started enjoying the conversation. But now they had moved on to a club, where skimpy-dressed bodies gyrated to a driving beat. He was supposed to convince one of these bodies to come home with him.
He had to book his trip pretty quickly, he considered. Damon didn't wait around. He wasn't one to plan a wedding a year in advance and Jane seemed to have been okay with a short timeline, because if she wanted a year of wedding planning and preparation, Damon would likely give it to her.
The wedding was in Wellington for some reason, which Marco didn't understand. Neither of their families were from Wellington, but it was their chosen location. It was a winter wedding too, which could be spectacular as the weather was often stable with clear, sunny days and cold nights.
He should be chatting up girls, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it—even as one or two passed, giving him the eye. Instead, he stood along the wall, letting his thoughts wander.
He couldn't take Charlotte all the way to New Zealand. Damon and Jane would just have to accept that he would be coming alone, but then they weren't the sticklers for etiquette that Sebastian's family and station required. He was pretty sure they wouldn't care if he crossed off the plus one on his invitation.
Things could have been different. He could be planning this trip with her. Marco felt a sharp pang of regret and he hated himself for it—hated that he couldn't shake this thing. He'd been through hell the last few months and he was exhausted. Maybe a trip back home was just what he needed. He wasn't sure what it said about him and his independence, but he actually looked forward to being surrounded by family, which made for a complete about face, because a year ago, he couldn't get away fast enough. He'd been through a beating since that time—been stripped of his armour and defences, and he now needed to rebuild.
He spotted her face and shook his head. Maybe he was more drunk than he'd thought. Now he was seeing her in the crowd. This was a new low if he was having delusions. But then she appeared out of the crowd and he realised that she was actually there. His heart lurched, then beat painfully in his chest. Closing his eyes, he wished he didn't react like this every time he saw her. His hands were clamming up and adrenalin flooded his system, making his mouth dry.
How was it that she was here? At this point, he conceded, it might actually be better for him if she stayed gone. Seeing her did awful things to him—dragged back any meagre gains he'd made. He wished she'd go away.
When he opened his eyes, she was talking to Sarah. Her jeans were tight and she wore shoes with straps across her ankles. She looked so good; Marco wanted to close his eyes again. Taking her jacket off, she threw it on the bench of the seating area they'd claimed. It was hot and humid in the club, and Alex had stripped down to a white, loose shirt, tucked into her jeans, with a metallic belt sitting on her hips. Faint outlines of her bra could be seen through the thin material. It was a look that could go across office and after. Not entirely club gear, but she didn’t look out of place either. The sleeves of her T-shirt was short and her bare arms were completely unadorned. Marco squeezed his hand shut behind his back, while the other held his drink a little too firmly.
She saw him—he could see her looking his way. She spoke further to Sarah and Marco wished he could look away. Then she moved towards him and he felt his chest freeze solid.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey.”
She looked a bit self-conscious and Marco had no idea what was going on. "How've you been?"
"Good. I'm going home for a bit," he said, not knowing why he'd mentioned that. Maybe because it was a damned sight better than anything else he had to report—particularly that he'd been home a lot of late, pining. "Wedding.”
"Oh," Alex said. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”
“It’s just the season for it, I guess.” What does she want from me, was all that was going through his head right now. A part of his brain was ecstatic to have her here, but he was wary. As much as he hated it, she still had the power to inflict crushing blows on him, and probably had no idea how vulnerable he was at the moment. Please don't, he said mentally. Whatever it was she wanted to inflict, please don't.
Whatever she had in mind, she would do now. Marco held his breath. She stepped closer, leaned up towards him and pressed her soft lips to his. Shock and pleasure screamed through his brain at the same time. Her lips were on his, te
ntatively and imploring. Marco didn't know how to react, so he didn't, until his brain kicked in again and he realised he could have her if he just took her. His arms snaked around her back, firmly pulling her to him, letting the feel of her tempt every part of him. Bright, shining pleasure flooded his brain, taking over every thought process. He had her back. She was in his arms. Urgently, he explored her mouth, letting the taste and warmth of her suffuse him.
He noted cheering around them, but he didn't care right now—he was not letting her out of this kiss. Absently, he sought some surface to deposit the drink he was holding, to then press her even closer to him. If he let her go, bad things might happen.
His whole body was on fire. He wanted her so badly—all the softness, the warmth. Sinking into her, being enveloped in her. The memories all came crashing back. This couldn't be a delusion. She couldn't be that cruel. He had to know.
Groaning, he gently pulled away. He wasn't letting go of her, but he needed to clarify what was going on. As much as he wanted to exist in this moment forever, he needed to know what her intentions were.
Her lips were swollen from kissing and he wanted to kiss it better, forget the worry and just melt into her again. Her eyes were on his lips and he almost relented. "Alex," he said, his voice barely perceptible. Her eyes came up to his now and he felt himself being drawn into those deep, tempting wells. She was a siren that had him completely enthralled. No matter how much he'd tried to deny it, he was madly in love with this girl. The thought made him smile and she smiled back. "Don't toy with me.”
"Don't toy with me," she said back. It sounded like something permanent. His mind reeled. Was she accepting him back?
"I'm serious. Everything hurts when you go.” He wasn't entirely sure what he was saying or if it made sense, but he had to establish a basic understanding, because he couldn't have this be a tease, or even a one night stand. He just couldn't do it.
"I'm sorry," she said. The apology pierced.
"I am too.”
Okay, that was enough. If it all turned to shit; if she was using him or toying with him, he would deal with that later. For now, delusion was fine. He hoped it was more, way more, but for now, he needed her in the most carnal way. "Let's go," he said and stepped forward, pushing her back with his body. Taking her hand, he walked with her to the table, grabbed her jacket and ignored everyone's curious and amazed eyes.
They hurried out of the club and luckily, there was a cab waiting outside. If this was a trap, he’d fallen right back in it without so much as a half-hearted fight. His mind and body were buzzing with excitement, as though the sun had returned after a long, gruelling winter.
* * *
Chapter 31:
* * *
They were kissing while Marco fumbled for the key and Alex smiled when he dropped it. He didn't seem in a hurry to pick them up. Instead, they stood on the stoop outside, kissing. The world didn't exist beyond them, but eventually, they would have to break apart to retrieve the infernal keys.
She couldn't quite believe how quickly they'd gotten to this point. All she had done was kiss him in the club and it was all on. All was forgiven and the excitement of being together rushed back. A niggle in the back of her mind still told her that she had to be cautious, that he was a guy and in the end, he would hurt her. But then she couldn't be a coward; she had to give him a chance. Maybe they had both been so miserable apart that they both grasped at the chance to revert to being lovers.
Alex ran her hands up underneath his shirt, feeling the warm skin and the taut muscles. She really wanted his shirt off so she could kiss and taste. They had to get inside.
Wrenching herself away, she bent down and picked up the keys, tried to get them in the lock while he resumed kissing her. Smiling, she managed to get the key in and turn the lock.
Closing the door behind him, he grabbed her and picked her up with her legs wrapped around him and carried her down the stairs. She just couldn't get enough of the kisses, although now they were secluded, with the privacy they needed. There would be much more than kissing going on in a minute.
Marco tugged her shirt over her head and she almost stumbled as he walked her backwards towards his room. The whole room smelled like him and Alex closed her eyes, encircled by Marco through every sensation she could garner. He had her jeans unbuttoned even before she fell back on the bed, and he grabbed the end of her pants legs tugging them off her. He wasn't gentle either and Alex couldn't stop laughing. She worked him out of his shirt and only had a moment to touch before he came to her, nestling down on her yielding body. Every part of her was on fire and she could feel the hard bulge in his pants.
For a moment, they just stopped and looked at each other. It was a soft moment, unguarded. Alex didn't know how she had managed to live without him—without this. Slowly leaning up, she kissed him gently, letting her lips explore his, her tongue play with the tip of his and he sighed.
"Let's not do that again," he said. "Fight.”
It was more than a fight, but now wasn't the time to argue. The voice of caution sounded in her brain. It even sounded like some bitter woman on Coronation Street – 'He says that now, love, but you wait a month'. She dismissed it, choosing to believe him. She chose to believe that they belonged together and they'd just had a fight; one that was immature and stupid—on both their parts.
Wrapping her legs around him, she drew him closer, pressing him to her heated core. Part of her wanted to push him into the bed, slowly undo his jeans and explore him until he begged for mercy, but she wasn't sure she could handle the tease at the moment. Right now, she felt as if she needed him inside her, needed them to be joined and bonded.
His hardness pressing on her sensitive folds made her breath grow heavy and frantic. There were still unwelcome layers of clothing between them. Marco's tongue darted into her mouth, turning her on even more. If he didn't get moving soon, she was going to start begging. Pushing him over on his back, she sat on top of him, and he watched as she undid her bra. His eyes travelled immediately to her breast, which felt heavy and full under his scrutiny. Sitting up, he claimed one hard nipple with his mouth and sensation exploded through her, fanning the flames in her core, and there were still too many layers of clothing between them, but she was at the mercy of his tongue and the powerful strokes sending sharp sensations spearing through her body. Her head arching back, she could only hold onto his shoulders, caress his dark curls as he tortured her.
His hands were on her thighs, drawing her hips tighter to him. The tension was simply unbearable and she couldn't take anymore. "Marco, please," she said, her voice ragged and breathy.
His sly, knowing eyes came up to hers and he rolled her onto her back and she gloried in the weight of him pressing her down, before he moved away, down her body, trailing his lips along her breast then her abdomen. He was cruel, she decided—teasing her like this. She felt as if she was going to die if something didn't give.
Moving further down, he kissed her over-sensitised nub, spears of intense pleasure shooting through her, holding her captive again—holding her breath captive. Alex wanted to scream with the onslaught, but her body broke into wild and powerful contractions, almost agony in their strength, while his tongue continued to tease her wet folds. He then settled his mouth and tongue on the little nub, mercilessly refusing to let the waves of pleasure settle as he sucked and stroked.
Had he always been this good, Alex wondered as she tried to get her mind in order. He'd just reduced her to a quivering mess and he hadn't even gotten his pants off yet. Which he was doing right now. Alex bit her lip and watched as he moved up to position himself. He was so gorgeous, and she loved seeing him like this, ready to claim her. She felt him at her entrance, felt herself yield to him as he pushed inside her, while consigning a prayer of gratitude. A feeling of complete fullness called to her and she opened herself completely to him, allowing him in as deep as he could go.
He stayed there for a moment, buried inside her and Alex felt as
though they were perfect like this. This was how they should be—on the edge of possibility, completely open and vulnerable, and joined. Alex could feel the quivers of another orgasm building and she tried to force herself to calm down, but he pulled back and pushed in hard, making her efforts to calm down fruitless. A gasp escaped her as he pushed in fully again. Every part of her was tensed against the sensations flooding through her and her hips shifted to receive him. Another powerful thrust had her not knowing what to do with all the sensation coursing through her body. She couldn't escape it and didn't want to, but it robbed her of breath and reason. She lost track of the assaults as her tension built beyond what she thought her body was capable of taking.
Louder groans from him worked through her ears, finally jerking her over the edge where it seemed her whole body was suspended in time and place, contracting forcefully around him. He arched into her, finding his release.
Why had it never been like that before, Alex wondered. It had always been good—the best she'd ever had, but it had never been like this. He settled down on her, his weight coming down and Alex's arms wrapped around him, kissing the top of his head as he lay on her chest, breathing raggedly. Because she loved him, she thought. The niggle of concern reinserted itself. She was more vulnerable than ever. The urge to cut and run came along with it, but she swallowed her fear down. She wasn't entirely sure she could survive not being with him, and she had promised herself, and him implicitly, that she would give this a go—wouldn't hide or push him away, but it was hard to be so completely exposed.
He kissed her breast then turned his head upwards to her. They lay there for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes. Marco looked happy and settled. He wasn’t moving off her. Alex smiled.
"I have to go home," Marco said.
"You mentioned.”
The Gamble (D'Arth Series Book 3) Page 19
