Christmas Contract for His Cinderella

by Jane Porter

  “Your mother was a good person, and a beautiful woman.”

  “And insecure as hell.” Monet made a face. “She had a desperate need to be loved—not by me, but by others. She needed your approval more than mine. She needed your brother and sisters’ affection more than mine. Why? Because I was hers, and I had to love her. Your family...that was the challenge.” She grimaced again. “But why are we talking about the past? It’s always about the past. I’m tired of the past. I’m only interested in the present, and the future, which is why I love London. In London everything is new for me. I have interesting work, and a fulfilling life. I never look back, and I never feel like a second-class citizen.”

  “You’ve never been a second-class citizen.”

  She forced a mocking smile to her lips even as she held back the sting of tears. “When it comes to the Ubertos, I’ve always been a second-class citizen. To quote your father, I’m only ‘good enough to bed, but not to wed.’ Good night, Marcu.”

  He followed her out, catching up with her on the stairs. “Monet, wait.”

  “This isn’t a good time for us to talk, Marcu. You’ve gone through a great deal today. It’s been so stressful—”

  “I know the kind of day I had today, and it was rough. Twice I thought I make not make it home, but that was also a much-needed wake-up call. Life is short. We’re mortal. We don’t really have time to waste.”

  “I’m glad you had an epiphany. But that changes nothing between us.”

  “I don’t want Vittoria. I want you.”

  “No. No.” Her laugh was incredulous. “I’m not a replacement for Vittoria. I’m not easy, or convenient. I’m not an option in any way.”

  “The kiss we shared—”

  “Shouldn’t have happened.”

  “But it did, and it made me question everything.” He climbed yet another step so that he was just one stair below her now. “I’ve been determined to go through life without feeling, but that’s obviously not working, not for me, or anyone.” He took the next stair so that they were side by side. “The children have no idea how much I love them, when everything I do is to ensure their well-being.”

  He lifted a long tendril of hair from her shoulder, the silky strands sliding through his fingers. “And you—you imagine that you’re someone I wanted to use for my pleasure because I had nothing else to do, and no one else to turn to, and that’s not true. It’s not ever been true.”

  “Please, Marcu, I’m not a fool. You married Galeta only a few months after I left Palermo. She must have already been on the horizon when you were making love to me in your bedroom.”

  “We’d dated. We weren’t serious.”

  “Just like you weren’t serious with me.”

  “I never hid anything from you. You knew I was socially active.”

  She averted her face, features tightening. “This walk down memory lane isn’t helping anyone.”

  “My point is, I’ve always been honest with you, even when it wasn’t easy or comfortable. I am being honest now when I say that kissing you changed something inside of me. It woke something—”

  “No.”

  “But it did, it has.” He reached out, tipping her face up, his finger beneath her chin. “I haven’t felt anything in years. I’ve been numb, and then you come back into my life—”

  “Because you dragged me back into your life!”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Okay, that’s fair. I did drag you, but I think I finally understand why I had to call in that favor. I needed you.”

  She drew away from him and climbed a step. “For the children.”

  “No, not for the children, but for me. I just didn’t know it yet.”

  She climbed another step. “How convenient to realize that after I was here, hostage.”

  “You’re not a hostage. You could go anytime.”

  Monet turned to face him fully, eyebrows rising, dark wings above brilliant golden-brown eyes. “So if I asked you to let me return home, you’d allow it?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I said I wanted to go tomorrow, you’d be fine with that?”

  He felt a pinch in his chest—sharp, hard, deep. “Yes,” he said after a moment, uncertain how they’d come to this place already. He’d fought to come home, fought to return to her, and now she wanted to leave him.

  Marcu took a breath, “Yes,” he repeated, “but you wouldn’t be able to leave tomorrow. You won’t be able to go anywhere until the storm passes, and that’s another few days.”

  “Then I want to leave, as soon as I can.” Her gaze met his. “Will you agree to that?”

  The pinch was even stronger this time, stealing his breath. He didn’t want to answer. He had to answer. “Yes.”

  She seemed to think this over and then she nodded. “Thank you.” And then she leaned down and kissed him. “I don’t hate you,” she whispered against his mouth. “But I can’t stay. It’s not good for either of us.”

  And just like that, heat exploded between them, and her light kiss became fire, and the fire was bigger than either of them.

  He pulled her to him, holding her firmly while he kissed her deeply, parting her lips with the pressure of his. She made a soft groaning sound, which just whetted his hunger, and his tongue teased the softness of her lower lip before stroking the inside of her mouth. She tasted of almonds and cinnamon and her...how he loved the taste of her. No one had ever felt so right in his arms. No kiss had ever made him feel like this, either.

  She reached for him, her arms wrapping around his neck, and the kiss was a mutual give-and-take, the hunger binding them together. Her fingers threaded in his hair, and he shuddered with pleasure at the feel of her fingertips across his nape.

  “Take me to your room,” she breathed. “Let’s not do this where everyone can see.”

  He swung her into his arms and carried her up the remaining flight of stairs to his suite. She was light in his arms, her body soft and warm, and he tried not to get ahead of himself. She hadn’t offered herself up. She hadn’t promised anything. This was just a kiss, and he could be satisfied with that because he wanted her to be happy. It was time he made her happy.

  * * *

  She felt like she’d waited for this moment—and him—for her whole life, and she had no fear as he undressed her.

  He was the one for her, and the one she wanted to be with now. She wasn’t going to think about the future, or the past, she was simply going to give herself over to the pleasure of being with Marcu, the man she adored. Life was complicated and hard and she should be able to have this moment for her, to remember forever.

  Stripped bare, he studied her a long moment and then kissed her mouth, and the side of her neck, and beneath her ear in that delicate hollow where every nerve ending seemed to be.

  His mouth traveled down the length of her neck, his tongue flicking her collarbone—more nerves, more tingling sensations that made her tremble and ache.

  He took his time exploring her curves and shape, lips and tongue and teeth on her nipples, then strokes of his tongue to soothe the light bites. Her breasts felt full and ripe, her nipples strained. She struggled to catch her breath, dazed by the sharp hot sensations filling her veins, coiling in her belly.

  He continued his exploration, moving lower, dropping kisses to her belly button and on each hip bone, fingers light across her pelvis, grazing her inner thighs.

  She closed her eyes, panting as he parted her thighs, pressing her knees down, open, revealing her most private place. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time because this was so new and yet it felt so good, and it was him, Marcu, who was making her feel this way. Hot, alive, glorious.

  His hands parted her thighs wider and then his mouth was there, and his tongue traced the delicate folds. She shuddered at every light lick, unbearably sensitive, her insides feeli
ng like hot thick honey. She was wet and growing wetter, and his fingers slid into her even as he teased her clit, his breath warm, his tongue cool. He lifted his head to watch her as he stroked her with his fingers, burying himself in her tight heat, and it was strange, but wonderful. She bucked as he dropped his head to kiss her nub as he continued stroking her, the incredible sensations flooding her, building, rising higher and higher until she went over an edge, and shattered into a thousand bright pieces.

  She lay boneless, heart still pounding, body still tingling, her skin still exquisitely sensitive. It took her a moment to collect herself. “That was nice,” she said huskily, “but I want you.”

  “We don’t need—”

  “No, we don’t need to do anything, but I want everything. I want you. I’ve wanted this since I was eighteen.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely,” she answered, reaching out to clasp his thick erection, savoring the feel of his hard silken shaft in her hand.

  He reached for protection and rolled the condom down before moving over her, his knees holding her thighs open. He lowered himself on his elbows, and kissed her even as the head of his shaft pressed against her slick entrance.

  She nearly told him to take it slow, and then she held the words back, because she didn’t want to make this about her virginity, but about him, them.

  He was sliding into her, and the fullness was overwhelming. She had to force herself to breathe and relax, as his body pressed deeper into hers. She wasn’t sure she liked it, he felt too big, and too uncomfortable, and just when she didn’t think she could do this anymore, the pain eased, and the fullness was less overwhelming and as he moved, she felt a fluttering sensation, a lovely fluttering sensation that made her want to feel it again. She arched her hips against his and he withdrew slightly, stroking back in. The lovely fluttery sensation was amazing and she urged him on, loving the heat of his body, the feel of his warmth within her, surrounding her, making her safe...making her his.

  He kissed her the way his body loved hers—deep, hungry, commanding—and she loved it all.

  And when she climaxed again, he was there with her, too, and it was bliss. No matter what happened next, no matter what happened in the future, she was grateful to have had this time in Marcu’s arms, in his bed, in his life.

  * * *

  Monet woke slowly, trying to get her bearings. It was extremely early in the morning and the sky was still dark outside. And then she shifted and bumped into Marcu’s shoulder and it all came back to her.

  She was in Marcu’s room. They’d made love last night. He’d given her two orgasms and she was most definitely no longer without experience.

  She also needed to use his bathroom, desperately. Monet slid from the bed and went to his en-suite bathroom, returning quietly, hoping that Marcu was still asleep. Instead he was frowning at the bottom sheet on her side of the bed.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked gruffly, exposing the red stain.

  “No,” she answered, mortified.

  “But I made you bleed.”

  “I’ll get a washcloth and some soap—”

  “I’m not worried about the stain. I’m worried about you. I didn’t realize I was so rough with you.”

  She didn’t know how to tell him, so she just blurted the words. “You weren’t rough. I was a virgin.”

  “What?”

  She ignored his growl of shock. “Everyone has to have a first time. It’s not a biggie.”

  “You should have told me!”

  “Why? How did it matter?”

  “I would have been far more careful.”

  “You were wonderful. I have no complaints.” Her lips curved. “Honest.”

  He left the bed naked, and stared at her, expression incredulous. “I had no idea.”

  “That I was a virgin? Why does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t. But I just assumed—” He broke off, scowling. “I would have thought by now you’d have more...experience.”

  “No. I don’t date very much, haven’t been interested. But I have no regrets, giving up my virginity to you. It only seems fitting that my first time be with you.”

  He covered his face with his hand. “Mio Dio.”

  “Stop with the dramatic curses. Why does it matter that I was a virgin? I wanted to sleep with you, and I’m glad I did. It was amazing for a first time. You’ve set the bar very high.”

  His hand fell from his face and he glared at her from across the width of the bed. “What does that mean?”

  “I’ve lacked confidence since I am—was—inexperienced, but maybe now I’ll be more confident, and comfortable. Maybe dating won’t be such a big deal. Hopefully I’ll be more open to meeting new men.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” he snapped, heading to the bathroom, and returning in a black thick robe. He was knotting the sash as he emerged.

  “Maybe not to you, but it does to me. It’s time I let go of the past and move forward. It’s time I gave others a chance—”

  “No.”

  She arched a brow as she sat back down in bed and pulled the covers up to her chest. “You can’t tell me no.”

  “I don’t want you to give others a chance. I want you. I want you to stay with us.”

  She watched him give his sash a second angry knot. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re being ridiculous now. Don’t ask questions like that. Because I don’t belong here. This isn’t my home. You’re not my family. And I have no desire to be your glorified child care for the rest of my life!”

  “I still have Miss Sheldon as a nanny. You aren’t meant to be child care.”

  “You wanted a wife to handle your children so you could focus on work. I’ve no intention of touching any of that. Find another woman who wants that responsibility because it’s not going to be me.”

  “You’re not even giving me a chance!”

  “Marcu, I just spent the night with you. I gave you my body. I gave you my virginity. How have I not given you a chance?”

  “Marry me.”

  Now he was just being cruel. Or was this his idea of being funny? Sighing, she tossed back the covers and began to gather her clothes. “Never mind. I can’t listen to this. I need to go.”

  He blocked her, catching her hands in his. “I’m serious. Marry me. Stay with us. We need you.”

  His words did weird things to her insides—both good and bad. “Marry me, stay with us” made her heart jump, but “we need you” filled her with mistrust. She struggled to shake him off, desperately wanting to be dressed and in her own room. “That is the worst proposal I’ve ever heard and I’m going to pretend you didn’t say any of it. Now give me space, so I can dress and get out of here.”

  Instead he pulled her into his arms, and kissed her, a hot, hard punishing kiss that sent a molten wave of longing through her. His hand was low on her bare back, making her body tingle, and as he swept his palm up over her spine, she shuddered with pleasure. He made her feel so sensitive and alive, and when he cupped the back of her head, holding her still so that he could deepen the kiss, all she could think about was him, and having him inside her again, filling her, making them one. When he was with her, making love to her, she’d never felt more connected, or more loved—

  And suddenly she flashed back in time, to when she was just a little girl and she’d accidentally walked in on her mother in bed with a stout older man.

  She’d been shocked and confused.

  She didn’t understand who the man was, and why he was in her mother’s bed. She didn’t understand why her mother spent more time with strange men than with her.

  Desire squashed, Monet pulled back, and Marcu released her, letting her take one step back and then another until there was ample distance between them.

&nbs
p; She struggled to regain control, struggled to calm her breathing. Marcu’s eyes were narrowed, his expression inscrutable. Monet felt stupid tears burn the back of her eyes. “I hate your proposal. I hate how it demeans me,” she choked.

  “Because I don’t have a ring? I didn’t get down on one knee? I wasn’t going to get down on one knee with Vittoria—”

  “I don’t care about Vittoria. Or about Galeta. I don’t care about any of your women. I care about me, and what you’re offering me and it’s nothing—”

  “How can you say that? I would take care of you, and provide for you, and you’d never want for anything.”

  “But love.” She blinked hard, fighting the scalding tears. “Because where is the love? There is no love in any of this. There is desire and want and the physical attraction between us is incredible. The sex was unbelievable. I will never regret that you were my first lover. It was right.” She reached up to swipe away one tear, and then another. “It’s what probably should have happened eight years ago so I could have gotten you out of my system. But now we have been together and we’ve come full circle. I can move on. We are good.”

  “We are not good,” he snapped. “We are most certainly not good. I did not take your virginity only for you to walk away—”

  She laughed and kept laughing, and it was making him mad but she couldn’t help it, and she couldn’t stop. Her laughter turned into helpless giggles. “Oh, Marcu, what did you think would happen? That sex with you would make me give up my whole life? My dreams—”

  “Of working in a department store?”

  “It’s actually something I enjoy so don’t you dare mock me!”

  He rubbed his hands over his face and growled with frustration. “I’m not mocking you, I’m trying to understand how you could choose that life over one with me and the children?”

  “I realize marriage for you is a business deal, but it’s not my idea of marriage, and I don’t need a man. I need independence. I need self-respect. I need my own path.”

  “So what was this? What happened here?”