by Abby Green
She’d allowed herself to be intimate with someone. Blindly. Without a moment’s hesitation. And not just because she’d wanted him so desperately—although that consideration had wiped everything else out—but also, and far more worryingly, because she’d trusted him.
She went cold inside when she recalled saying that to him. I trust you. She hadn’t even noticed. Not really. Too intent on the hunger clawing inside her, too intent on achieving satisfaction.
But as that sank in now she went colder than cold. All her precious defences, which had protected her even when Dean had gone too far, had crumbled like a flimsy house of cards in the wake of Maks’s expert seduction.
She’d allowed him access to her most deeply secret self. Where she was most vulnerable. Where she’d hidden all her insecurities and fears. And now...she had nowhere to hide.
Maks moved minutely beside her and she held her breath, but he didn’t move again. Terrified he would wake before she was ready to deal with him, Zoe moved off the bed silently. She found a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pulled it on. Then she picked up her strewn clothes and stole out of his suite, hurrying back down the empty corridor to her own.
When she’d closed the door, she let out a long, shuddery breath. What had she done? She went into the bathroom and caught her reflection and winced. Her hair was a wild tangle. Her face was still flushed. Her eyes were bright and sparkling. Belying her inner turmoil.
She remembered him kissing her scars.
Zoe stripped off the robe and dived under the shower, lamenting getting rid of Maks’s scent from her body even as she scrubbed herself. She saw the faint red marks where his stubble had grazed her skin. The faintest bruise on her thigh where he’d gripped her as he’d thrust deep.
He’d marked her as primally as if they were animals. And she thrilled to it even as she might try to deny it. You want to be his woman. She rejected that outright. There was no way, after initiating a virgin, that Maks would be hanging around to repeat the experience. She’d been a novelty from the start, that was all. And now it would be over.
When Zoe was out of the shower she dried herself perfunctorily and went into the bedroom, dragging out her meagre little suitcase. She dressed in jeans and a shirt and packed the rest of her things, ignoring the stunning yellow evening dress hanging in the wardrobe. The sooner she got out of this fantasy land, the better, before she—
She stopped herself. Before she what? Fell for Maks Marchetti?
At that moment the doorbell chimed. Zoe’s heart stopped. It chimed again. She went and opened it, not prepared to see Maks on the other side, dressed in jeans and a dark shirt, tucked in. He was clean-shaven and his hair was damp.
Zoe instantly felt weak at the thought of him in the shower, water sluicing over that taut, powerful body.
‘Maks? Did you want something?’
His face was expressionless, but she could see that his jaw was tight. ‘You could say that. Why did you leave my bed?’
My bed. She shivered at the way he said that. It was so arrogant and possessive.
‘I wasn’t aware I had to ask permission.’
‘What’s going on, Zoe? Not long ago you were—’
‘I know exactly what I was...doing.’ Her face grew hot. She wished she could be more suave about this.
Maks came into the room before she could stop him. The door closed behind him. He looked over her head and she realised he could probably see into the bedroom, where her case was on the bed.
He walked around her and into the bedroom.
She walked behind him.
He turned to face her. ‘Going somewhere?’
‘I thought I should get back to London.’
* * *
Maks was in uncharted territory. He was used to women using intimacy as a means to foster a deeper intimacy. He’d never had a woman leave his bed and try to leave the country.
His insides curdled as a possibility struck him. He turned around to face her. ‘Did I hurt you, Zoe?’
He cursed himself. He’d been so careful to make sure she was with him, but he knew at some point he’d been taken over by sheer lust and the whole experience. He’d believed she was with him all the way. He could remember the strength of her untried body clamping around his so powerfully, sending him into orbit. But maybe—
She was shaking her head. ‘No. No. You didn’t hurt me. At all. It was...amazing.’ She looked shy all of a sudden. ‘I didn’t know it could be like that. I thought something was wrong with me.’
Maks had a strong suspicion about where that notion had originated, and felt an urge to simultaneously beat that other man to a pulp and to protect Zoe.
He moved towards her, snaked a hand around the back of her neck. Needing to touch her. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you—absolutely nothing. You’re a passionate woman. I saw the fire in you the first time I met you.’
She looked at him. ‘You did?’
He nodded. How could she not see that? But then, he knew how people could be made to feel insecure—his sister was a prime example.
She pulled back, dislodging his hand, avoiding his eye. ‘I think it’s for the best that I leave. You’re hardly still interested after last night.’
‘I know you’re not someone who fishes for compliments, but last night was not like anything I’ve experienced before.’
She looked at him, her cheeks going red. ‘That’s just because I was a virgin. A novelty.’
‘Oh, was it, now? I happen to think it was much more than that. We have incredible chemistry—last night was proof of that. Or are you saying you don’t fancy me any more?’
* * *
Zoe would have spluttered if she could have. The very notion... Her every cell was aligned towards Maks right now, as if he was true north and her blood was full of iron filings.
‘No, I’m not saying that. But maybe it’s better to just...end it now before it gets too...’ She trailed off.
‘Complicated?’ Maks asked, and then he said, ‘I won’t let that happen. I’m not in the business of allowing things to get complicated.’
He sounded so sure of himself.
‘Last night felt pretty intense. I’m not experienced, Maks. You do this all the time, and you move on. I’m afraid I won’t be able to and that scares me.’ Zoe bit her lip and then continued, ‘You called me a warrior last night. I’m not a warrior, Maks. Anything but. I’m terrified of everything. That’s why I don’t commit to anything.’
Maks took her hand and sat down on the bed, pulling her down onto his thigh. ‘Your whole family died in one moment, Zoe, it’s no wonder you’re scared. But you survived. You’re a survivor.’
Zoe bit her lip for fear she’d let something else tumble out. The truth was that Maks didn’t know the half of it. How guilty she felt for having survived. How her whole life revolved around that guilt and how it had informed all her decisions. She wondered if she’d ever feel free to move on and live a life of her own.
In one way, she was safe from becoming emotionally invested in Maks Marchetti. She’d never allow herself to wish for something like happiness with him because he wasn’t offering it. And because she didn’t deserve it.
Maks spoke, scattering her thoughts. ‘I’m not offering long-term anything, Zoe. I’m a loner, and I’ve been reliably informed that I’m emotionally unavailable. You’re confusing emotion with sex. What we shared was intense, but it was purely physical.’
Zoe felt the hardness of his muscles under her buttocks. He smelled of citrus and something more potent. An exotic mix.
‘I can prove it to you if you like?’ he said.
His hand was on her back, fingers seeking and finding the gap between her shirt and jeans, exploring, finding naked skin. Already she was melting. Breathless.
‘Can you?’
She couldn’t even
really care that she sounded as if she desperately wanted him to prove it to her.
He nodded. His fingers were on the clasp of her bra now, and it was undone before she could take another breath. He pulled her closer, reaching around to cup one bare breast under its lace cup. She sucked in a breath. Her nipple was trapped between his fingers, stiffening into a sharp point of need.
With his other hand he cupped her jaw, drawing her face to his. ‘Let me show you how it can be...trust me, Zoe.’
Trust me.
Like last night, those words should be restoring sanity to her brain like a bucket of cold water, but she couldn’t seem to make herself care. Maybe Maks was right and all this was purely physical. It would burn out and they would go their separate ways. Right now, Zoe was all too tempted to just trust in Maks—again.
A weakness. She ignored the voice.
She touched his jaw with her hand, before spearing his short hair with her fingers. ‘Okay, then, let’s do this.’
What was it about him that seemed to ignite some spark within her, an urge to rebel, throw caution to the wind?
She knew she didn’t really want to explore the answer to that as Maks’s mouth covered hers and he pushed the suitcase off the bed.
It fell to the floor, spilling its contents. She wasn’t going anywhere.
* * *
Maks looked at Zoe, sleeping on the bed. Morning had turned into afternoon, and he was in danger of forgetting about the outside world entirely. She was on her back, the sheet pulled up to her waist. Her skin was still slightly flushed. Breasts plump, with those small, tight pink nipples. His body reacted to the memory of how they’d felt on his tongue, how they’d tasted. How he could make them harder by sucking...
Dio. What was happening to him? He never, never encouraged a woman to stay beyond one night. If they saw each other again it was strictly while their mutual chemistry lasted and through no encouragement on Maks’s part. That was why he’d always chosen discreet, independent women.
But he’d never met one as independent as Zoe.
She would be on her way back to London right now if he hadn’t woken up, incensed to find her gone. For the first time he hadn’t been secretly relieved that a woman had left his bed. He’d felt...irritated. Exposed.
What was happening here was way off the charts of Maks’s usual modus operandi. But then Zoe was different. And this chemistry... He’d never experienced anything like it.
They’d spent the morning in bed, and it had eclipsed the previous night ten times over. Maks had never come as hard. Or as often. And he didn’t know if he’d ever get used to seeing the look of wonder on Zoe’s face when she climaxed—as if she’d discovered some ancient secret wonder.
She was a novice, reminded an inner voice. Her awe will fade. The chemistry will fade. She’s just a woman.
As if hearing his thoughts, she stirred on the bed and it had an immediate effect on Maks’s body. She opened her eyes, slumberous. He watched as she registered where she was, and who she was with, when her eyes landed on him. They narrowed on his chest and then moved down to where his body was reacting forcibly under her blue/green gaze.
She moved over onto her side and rested her head on her hand. For a second she surprised Maks with how assured she looked. But then she smiled, and it was all at once shy and bold. She pulled the sheet back and he could see the curve of her body, the cluster of curls at the top of her thighs.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked.
He smiled. ‘Nowhere.’
The outside world was overrated.
* * *
Zoe put her camera to her eye and focused on the stunning mosaics in the ornate cathedral. She’d ducked in here after spending the last few hours walking the streets, taking pictures of people, unnoticed.
She understood why she liked photography so much—it kept her removed. And she was losing herself in photography right now to distract herself from the enormity of letting Maks persuade her to stay when she would have fled. Back to her safe little life. Changed for ever. But safe again.
Really? asked a small inner voice. Would you have been able to put Maks Marchetti behind you as if it had never happened?
No. Zoe wasn’t self-delusional enough to tell herself that. She would never forget Maks now. He was imprinted on her mind and on her body in a way that truly terrified her. Which was why she’d wanted to run.
Except it hadn’t taken much to persuade her to stay. They’d spent a whole day in bed yesterday, ordering from room service. Maks had disappeared in the evening—presumably to catch up on the work he was meant to be doing. Zoe had been too sated and exhausted to do anything but have a shower and go back to bed.
Maks had woken her a few hours later, sliding into her bed, wrapping his hard, naked body around hers. She’d turned to him instinctively, more than shocked to find how accustomed she’d already become to having him in her bed.
He hadn’t said a word, but he had used his mouth to communicate an urgency and desperation that she’d matched. Rising above him and taking him inside her, moving up and down experimentally at first, and then with more confidence when she’d seen the look of absolute absorption on his face.
The sensation of being in control had been heady. Until Maks had said, ‘Witch...’ and put his hands on her hips, holding her so that he could pump powerfully into her body, showing her that any sense of control had been brief and illusory. But by then she hadn’t cared, because every point of her being had been fixated on chasing the ecstasy only he could bring.
She groaned softly at the memory and a nearby tourist looked at her. Mortified, Zoe walked back out into the late-afternoon sunshine, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light. Autumn was arriving and the city was taking on a golden hue. It was more beautiful than she would have ever imagined, with the multi-coloured turrets of the church standing out against the bright blue sky.
‘Here you are.’
Zoe would have dropped her camera if not for the fact that it was around her neck. She whirled around, her joy at seeing Maks taking her by surprise before she could stop it.
He’d been gone when she’d woken this morning, but had left a note.
I can’t keep avoiding meetings—much as I’d prefer to. My driver will take you wherever you want to go, except to the airport.
You promised to be my date tonight, don’t forget...
M
His date. For another event later this evening. She’d avoided thinking about it till now.
‘How did you find me?’
Maks held up his phone. ‘I called the driver—amazing what modern technology can do these days.’
Zoe made a face. He turned her brain to mush. Especially when he was dressed in a dark grey three-piece suit that made his eyes look even steelier.
He said, ‘I’ve arranged for the designers in the showcase to send over some dresses for you to choose from for this evening.’
Zoe walked with him back to the car. He’d told her about this event—a fashion show to showcase up-and-coming Russian designers, get them noticed on the world stage. Insecurity lanced her.
‘But I’m not a model—I’m way too short. The dresses probably won’t fit.’
‘I’ve given them your size and height.’
Zoe stopped before they reached the car. ‘I wouldn’t want to let them down, though...what if I choose a dress and it looks awful on me? That’s hardly fair on the designer.’
* * *
Maks turned to Zoe. She looked genuinely concerned. When he could well imagine other women being incensed at the thought of wearing an unknown designer, she didn’t want to let them down. He felt a curious sensation in his chest.
‘Let me be the judge of whether or not you’ll do them justice, hmm? After all, it’s my reputation on the line—and the Marchetti Group’s.’
She bit he
r lip and Maks had to fight back a wave of desire. He’d found it hard to concentrate today, wondering where she was. How she was after their indulgent day. And night. She’d been innocent. She must be tender.
That had unleashed another wave of desire.
He took her hand and said, with a rough edge to his voice, ‘Stop biting your lip. It’s mine to bite.’
Instantly her cheeks went pink. She released the plump flesh, moist from her teeth and tongue. She was a novice with the wiles of a siren. An erotic combination that Maks couldn’t resist and had no intention of resisting until he was well and truly sated.
* * *
Zoe had never exposed so much flesh before. Acres and acres of pale skin. But the dress... It was like a dress straight out of a fantasy she’d always had but had never acknowledged before.
Never allowed herself to acknowledge.
She’d always believed she wasn’t ‘girly’, deliberately avoiding dresses or anything too flouncy, but after a few days with Maks Marchetti Zoe’s inner girly girl was unleashed and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
The dress was an exquisite confection of pink silk and tulle. It had a deep vee to her waist in the front, and two slim straps criss-crossing over her back, holding the dress up. A thick waistband encircled her waist, and a layer of sheer tulle fell to the floor over the silk underskirt, all in the same dusky pink colour. And when she moved the dress sparkled from the thousands of tiny sequin stars sewn into the fabric by hand.
The designer had brought accessories, and friends to do Zoe’s hair and make-up, and she was even further out of her comfort zone now, with her hair pulled back into a rough chignon. For the first time she wasn’t as acutely aware of her scars as she normally was. Even though they weighed nothing, they were a part of her and they’d always felt like a burden. Something she had to carry.
There was a delicate silver chain around her neck that hung down into the deep vee of the dress, between her breasts. And that was it. Simple. Understated. Elegant. She hoped.
