Her laugh grew. “You’re killing me, Brutus,” she said again. “Turn around, for God’s sake.”
His face turned to pure feral masculinity. His hooded gaze alone made Gia want to weep with pleasure.
“You are so fine, Marco. I’m sold. You’re changing me for good,” she said, her voice low and throaty.
Slowly, like he moved in some alternate-time warp reality, he pivoted to face her.
She swallowed hard at the sight of him. Her gaze swept along the ripped muscles of his abdomen, tracking the hair that led to his...to his...my God, it’s a work of art.
“That thing’s magnificent. I want to play.” She put her hands underneath her chin and whimpered like a puppy.
He laughed and got to the ground. “Oh, you’ll get a turn for sure. Let’s make sure you’re good and ready for this.”
“I’m ready, I’m ready!” she said.
“Nuh uh. Not yet you’re not.” He waggled his tongue at her. Kneeling between her legs, he caressed the inside of her thighs.
She swooned at his touch.
He brought his thumbs along the crease of her thighs.
She gasped in anticipation.
He dragged one thumb lazily up her folds.
She arched into his caress.
He gave her one last wicked leer before dropping his mouth to her wet and ready core. He nibbled on her. He drew long sweeping strokes with his tongue, swirling around her clit until she couldn’t stand it.
She moaned, pulling his hair.
“Marco, my God...I’m...you’re...” She let the words fall away into the waves of pleasure consuming her. Her orgasm struck like thunder and lightning, hard, sudden, and intense. It took her into a mind-blowing, shooting stars’ kind of sensation that seemed to last forever. Finally, she smacked her palms against the survival blanket, breathless. “I give. Stop. No more. Give me a minute.”
When he sat up, he bore the biggest grin she’d ever seen. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes glittered, full of feral heat.
For one fleeting second, fear flashed through her heart. I’m starting to fall for this guy.
He cocked his head, a look of concern replacing the lust.
She shook the frightened thought away and said, “Show me what you can do with that thing. I’m dying to feel you inside me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He ripped open the condom packet and rolled it on.
“I can’t believe they make condoms that big. Do you have to special order them?” She laughed.
“Oh, baby. I have my own supplier. They’re custom made for me.” He returned the laugh. “I’m kidding. Now, shh. No more talk unless it’s dirty.”
Gripping his erection, he slid it up and down her folds.
She let out a long, “Oh,” sound. “Mercy, Marco. Fuck me with that bad boy.”
“You want me, huh? You want to feel me inside you?” He looked like his face would split with pleasure.
“I want you so bad, Brutus,” she said, fully aware of the truth of the sentiment. “I’ll face a firing squad if it comes to that.”
He scoffed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t.” He fit the head inside and waited for her to adjust.
“Damn,” she said. “Perfect. You make me feel so...” Safe? Happy? Nurtured? Pleasured? Dare I say loved?
He rocked into her, slowly, deeply, burying himself to the hilt. “I make you feel so...”
“I can’t even put words into it.” Sloppy tears began to track down the side of her face.
“Oh, honey,” Marco soothed. “I hope those are happy tears.”
“They are...I don’t...” She bit back the words. Flooded with joy, happiness, pleasure, and wonder—emotions she’d never experienced with another guy, ever—she simply smiled through her tears.
Then, she seized Marco’s hips and pulled him into her, sinking into the bliss. For tonight, in their cozy cave complete with crackling fire, she wanted to experience this man, fully sober. If only I can manage to stay this way. She tossed that thought away, not ready to face the challenges she knew lay in wait for her.
Chapter 13
The next morning, Gia thought she heard something unusual, tromping outside the cave. A cow wandering by? Are there deer out here? She dismissed it and continued her drowsy wake-up. Nestled in a survival blanket, tucked by Marco’s side, her ankle had ceased its whimpers, her heart was happy, and her pussy... I have no words for you, Miss Kitty, she said to her lower region. Except yum. Contentment rolled through her like sunshine.
The air smelled damp and smoky, the fire extinguished long ago. Gia snuggled into Marco, who hugged her close to his warm body. She tried to recall when she’d ever woke up so happy and hangover free.
A throat cleared. It wasn’t Marco. Confused, Gia opened her eyes, blinking at the feeble morning light.
Dante stood in the opening of the cave, his mouth quirked into some kind of “I can’t believe my eyes” rigidity, his posture stiff. His grayish green gaze bore into her.
Shit. She glared right back in defiance, nudging Marco.
He awoke with a snort. “Good morning, beau...”
As if he was on patrol, he scrambled to his feet, automatically standing at attention. There he stood in all his naked glory, his well-used cock dangling innocently between his legs, his powerful body a sight to behold.
Gia wanted to laugh. The words, “At ease, soldier,” hung in the back of her throat until Dante barreled into the cave like a mad bovine, slamming into Marco.
“I’m not paying you to screw my drummer,” he roared.
Marco let out a breath as he wrestled with Dante, his arms around Dante’s shoulders.
“Dante! Stop it,” Gia yelled. She scrambled to her feet, and pain laced through her ankle. She fell to her knees.
Both men pulled away from their fight and rushed to her side.
“What happened?” Dante crouched on one side of her.
“Baby, are you all right?” Marco said, kneeling on the other.
She should have felt comforted that her two favorite males were tending to her needs. She wanted to feel that way. Instead, she felt torn between her growing feelings for Marco, her annoyance at Dante and the horrible recognition that this beautiful moment was crashing all around her, the way relationships always seemed to do.
Dante scowled at Marco.
Marco glared back.
Suddenly, Dante seized Marco’s throat with his uber strong lead-guitar playing fingers and began to throttle the shit out of him.
“You’re fired, asshole,” he yelled.
“Wait, I can explain,” Marco said, easily prying Dante off of him. He thrust Dante’s hands away from him. “And I don’t appreciate being assaulted. We can come to an understanding here.”
“Don’t I have a say in this?” Gia said, pushing the two apart. “Damn, D! Since when do you get to come in here all Lone Ranger and tell me how to live my life? This was my idea.”
“You stay out of this,” Dante snapped. “I got a call at two a.m., telling me you two hadn’t returned. I got frantic, thinking your car ran off the road. We’ve been combing the area for hours. And when we finally found the sedan...” He shook his head with obvious annoyance “And then this.” His arm punched the air, flicking his hand in an angry, impatient gesture. He got to his feet and said, “Put some clothes on, Monroe.”
“Yeah? Fuck you, Vega. I’ll put my clothes on when I fucking feel like it.”
Marco stood and snatched his damp jeans off the floor of the cave. He tugged and pulled the moist fabric over his legs, looking more and more frustrated as the soaked denim refused to glide along his skin. When he finally got them over his hips, he buttoned them, encasing his sexy yumminess in what had to be ice-cold misery.
Gia had never seen Marco angry. I’m glad his anger isn’t directed at me.
“So where were you when Gia was out of her mind with the DT’s, huh? And where were you when she started to relapse?” Marco towered over Dante, jabb
ing him in the chest with his finger. Dante cowered a little as Marco continued his rant. “And where were you when she took off in the dark last night, in the pouring rain with lightning striking all around? Were you here, huh? Were you?”
Dante took the offensive, yelling, “I was paying for your fucking service, that’s what. A contract you, me, and Gia all signed. With all the rules and guidelines clearly stated. You were to be her sober companion, not her fuck-buddy.” He placed both hands on Marco’s chest and shoved.
Marco barely budged. Instead, he took a deep breath, slowly blew it out, and said, “I get it. I deserve this. You have every right to fire me.”
“You’re damn straight I do. You’re fired.” Dante’s breathing began to slow. The veins throbbing at his neck began to calm.
“Dante, no! You can’t fire him! I have to have some say-so in how I get to recover. I want Marco as my sober companion,” Gia said, feeding on the anger swirling around them.
“He’s right, Gia. I blew it. I let emotion get in the way of reason,” Marco said, back to Mr. Reasonable.
“Oh, oh, oh, is that how it is? We have mind-blowing sex, I let down my guard, and you’re just going to walk away from it, walk away from me, because of some dumb rules?” She scrambled to her feet, heedless of the sharp pain lancing her ankle. She seized the survival blanket, wrapped it around herself, and hobbled toward the mouth of the cave. “It’s been real, Brutus. Both of you can go fuck yourselves.”
“Gia, wait,” Dante said.
“Gia, stop,” Marco said.
They both fell into step beside her as she limped toward the car.
Her ankle screamed, but she refused to slow her step, as she made her way through the misty green landscape. She blinked hard to keep the tears at bay.
“Honey, stop, you’re making your ankle worse,” Marco said to her.
“I’m not your honey,” she snapped. “I’m no one’s anything. Wait...I’m his drummer. At least I’ve got that going for me,” she said, unable to keep the pity-party at bay. “But I have no band to play in, I forgot.”
“Gia, stop. It looks like you’re in pain,” Dante said.
She whirled to face him. “You have no idea what kind of pain I’m in at the moment, D. None. Marco’s been the best thing ever for me, and now you’ve gone and fired him. You’re acting like you own me and you don’t.”
She pressed her lips together as hard as she could and rattled her head like a snake as her tears leaked free. Throwing up her hands in despair, she pivoted and began her steady march down the hill.
Marco caught up with her, spun her around, and scooped her up.
Her legs wrapped around his hips while her arms encircled his neck. Already, Miss Kitty begged for him to be inside her.
He murmured soft and low into her ear. “I know you hate me right now, but at least let me take care of you for a few more minutes. You shouldn’t put any weight on that ankle.”
“Is that all you’re worried about right now?” she asked. “My fucking ankle? What about my heart, huh? It’s breaking to bits right now, Marco.”
“Mine, too. This is all my fault. I’m supposed to have steered the boat. I shouldn’t have yielded to my impulses. I’m an idiot.”
One lone tear tracked along his cheek and fell on her face. Her tongue slid from her mouth and captured it, savoring the salty morsel of him.
“I’ll miss you, Brutus,” she said through her silent tears.
“I know. Me, too,” he said. His face looked stoic and determined as he strode down the hill.
Dante trailed behind, his face appearing tormented. When they got to the vehicles, he said, “Put her in here with me.” He pointed to a green Landrover. “I’ll have the paperwork drawn up for your dismissal. You can ride back to Gray House with Daphne.” He pointed to the silver sedan across the street. “We’ve already got Gia’s belongings.”
Marco nodded, looking like a soldier being unjustly discharged from the Marines. He refused to make eye contact with Gia as he set her on the passenger seat, securing the blanket around her.
“Good-bye, beautiful drummer. Thank you for awakening my heart,” he said, softly kissing her on the lip.
She couldn’t manage a single word as he stood and backed away from the SUV, from her life, for good.
Chapter 14
Gia had no idea she could go so long without talking, a simmering cauldron of emotion boiling inside her belly. She’d given Dante the deep freeze all the way to his luxury hotel. Iced him out after showering, dressing, and allowing him to escort her to the doctors. Said little, if anything, when the doctor x-rayed her, told her it was only a sprain and wrapped the ankle.
Marco wrapped it better.
She remained silent as the limousine sped them through the streets and highways of London toward Heathrow airport, sitting as far away from Kennedy and Dante as she could manage.
She didn’t know who she hated more—herself for getting into this mess, Dante for trying to get her out of it, or Marco, just because.
Sitting in a roomy leather recliner, a bottle of some bullshit chic-chic Fiji water by her side, she stared out the window of the private jet whisking her back to the states. Clouds were the only signs of life outside the window. Inside her body, she experienced fury one second, sorrow the next, and numbness the rest of the time. She burrowed deeper into a silk blanket the air steward had insisted upon her.
I wish I were back in the cave with the survival blanket.
Footsteps, presumably Dante’s, clomped along the plush carpet of the jet in her direction.
“We have to talk, G,” Dante said. “You can’t keep me out forever.”
Want to bet? She lifted her gaze to him and then resumed her cloud staring.
He settled into the cushy leather sofa lining the other side of the jet. “Come on, G. Talk to me. Marco exploited you. He exploited the contract. What he did violated his role as your sober companion. I know it, you know it, and he knows it big time. He’s apologized profusely, but it doesn’t make a difference. What’s done is done.”
Words formed in her throat, but she swallowed them away.
“Gia. I’m only trying to protect you. What he did was wrong, no doubt about it.” Dante sounded far, far away, in another Universe, perhaps.
When she still didn’t speak, he went for reasonableness. “Look, I get it. The guy’s handsome. He’s ripped. He’s a former Marine, for God’s sake. You’d have to be numb to not be taken in by him. And it sounds like you got yourself in a scary situation and one thing led to the next. I get it.”
She stayed mute.
He stopped speaking, too, allowing a screaming silence to envelop them. After a time, he said, “We’ll find you someone else to work with. Someone in the states. As it happened, it worked out to have done the intervention with Marco here in London. We had another recovery center arranged, but Marco said he needed to get you into recovery, pronto. He was visiting friends in London. That’s not where he lives. He was stationed at a military base near there while in the Marines.”
She wanted to ask where he lived, realizing she knew very little about him. And here I went for the hearts and roses connection when I know nothing about the man. What an idiot.
Dante switched gears, trying a different tactic. “I’m going to let you back in the band. Marco told me how well you were doing with recovery. He even mentioned the slip and how awful you felt afterward. He said you were one of the few he thought might actually stick with sobriety.”
She slowly turned her head to face him. She stared at him, pursing her lips, her head cocked to the side. I get to be back in the band? She hadn’t held a drumstick in her hands in over two weeks. Talk about withdrawal.
Dante’s normally warm Mediterranean skin tone appeared so pale, it looked like he’d been dusted with flour. Dark circles lined his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Gia. I’m sorry this happened.”
She nodded over and over and over but said nothing.
“Y
ou look different. I think sobriety suits you,” Dante said, leaning over his knees and clasping his hands.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Look. I may have fucked up. I may have over-reacted. But Marco did exploit the contract.” He blew out a gust of breath.
Her face hardened, but she didn’t turn away. Finally, she let out a sigh of resignation, worked her mouth around and said, “Marco made a difference, D. He made a huge difference. I don’t think I could have gotten through it without him.” Stupid tears began pushing at her walls. “I haven’t cried this much, ever. I can’t seem to stop crying. I’m a mess. I need someone to help me along, help me find my way, ya know? I’m a freaking basket case.”
She reached for the elegant tissue box also forced on her by the air steward.
“Okay, but listen. How is an emotional entanglement going to help you? You need a neutral party. Neither of you can maintain clarity if you’re...you know,” Dante said.
“If we’re fucking?” she said.
“Yeah. You know how it is,” he said. He dragged his hand through his hair. “We both know. Lord knows the mess I’ve made of my life—losing my ex to drugs, my father, and his fuck-ups, the Marquise du Manhattan...” He ticked off a few of the major heartbreaks and dramas in his life.
Gia had been with him through each sordid drama.
“Kennedy more or less saved me.” He glanced at her and swiftly said, “And you. I couldn’t have got through the years without you.”
Too little, too late, dude. She made a gun with her fingers, pointed it at him, and pretended to shoot.
He put his hands up. “I deserve that. I deserve your anger. But hear me out—I have your health and sobriety in my intentions. Because I love you, Gia. You’re my amazing sister-like comrade through the ages. We’ve seen each other through thick and thin. You can’t simply throw that away.”
“I can, and you know it,” Gia said. “I’m a survivor.”
Pain shot through Dante’s eyes as if he really had been shot through the heart.
“I won’t do it,” she said with resignation. “I won’t throw the friendship away. But you have to pay more attention to me, D. You can’t simply ignore me in your cozy nesting period with Kennedy.”
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