“Oh, God, Brutus. You’re melting me. You’re turning me into a soft gooey blob of feeling.” She leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips and the hard heat trapped in his jeans.
He caught her and swiftly crossed the room. With ease, as if she weighed nothing, he lay her on her back, positioning himself between her legs.
Gia kissed him. She wanted to get close to him, closer than she’d ever been with anyone, ever. She wanted to crawl inside his skin, find his soul, and wrap it tight around her. Caught in the enormity of feeling and sensation, she released his lips and clawed at his clothes, desperate for the skin contact.
He moved with the same frantic gestures, tugging off her green and yellow shirt, and then unzipping her pants and urging them from her legs.
Only when they lay naked and bare, on their sides facing one another, did their movements slow.
“Oh, God, Brutus. You’re rearranging my cells,” she groaned. She reached to stroke his magnificent hard-on. “Is this really what love feels like?”
“It’s what it feels like between you and me. But if you don’t stop touching me like that the party’s going to be over in two seconds flat.” He gently removed her hand and guided her leg over his hip. “There. Give a guy at least a little control,” he said, grinning.
“Is this what you call control? I call it torture,” she said, as he slid along her silky wet folds.
“No, this is torture.” He took his length into his hand and stroked the head along her clit.
She shuddered, letting a whimper fall from her lips.
He kept up with the stroking and teasing until, much to her delight, she started to come.
“Not so fast,” he said, pulling away.
“What are you doing?” she gasped. “Give it back!”
“I told you I want it slow. Long. And deep. You can’t just fall over the edge like that,” he said, snapping his fingers.
“God, you’re driving me mad,” she protested, clutching at the bedding, her body on fire.
“Just the way I like you. Under my spell. Now lay back and enjoy the ride.” His palm rested on her breastbone, and he gently urged her onto her back. And slowly, he proceeded to love her like she’d never been loved in her life.
He stroked. He nibbled and kissed, making her feel adored. He licked her until she screamed his name, over and over. He teased and caressed. She climbed on top and rode him like he was her stallion. And when they finally, finally came together, with her sitting on his hips, Gia wondered if she’d died and gone to Heaven. She rolled off of him, completely undone.
“My God, Marco. What just happened?” she said.
“A whole lot of love, that’s what,” Marco said, looking pleased. He crossed his arms behind his head, propping his head on his hands, looking every bit the delicious, satisfied six foot four man. A minute later, he blinked and said, “Oh! I nearly forgot. I’ve got something for you.”
“For me,” she said, practically purring.
“Yep, I’ll go get it.” He started to roll away, but she caught him.
“Stay. I like the visual here. I’m not ready to let it go,” she said.
He flashed a seductive smile. “Then you get it. It’s wrapped so it will still be a surprise.”
“Where is it?” she asked, on her hands and knees, eager. “I love surprises.”
“I left it near my bag on the bed in my room. You can’t miss it.” The smile on his face was a gift unto itself.
“Key card?” she asked.
“Pants pocket. On the floor,” Marco said, looking very King of the Jungle-esque.
“Be right back,” Gia said, retrieving the plastic key card and dashing for the door.
“Wait! What about your clothes?” Marco called.
“Honey, we own this floor for the next twelve hours. Who will see me?” She gave him a saucy grin and exited into the hall.
Outside his room, she slid the plastic card into the unlock device and opened the door. She stepped into his much smaller, plainer room. It looked like a holding tank for a little bit of luggage.
His leather satchel sat on the otherwise untouched bed. An elegantly wrapped blue-bowed box sat next to it. She grinned and twirled in a circle, feeling like a gleeful young child. She sauntered toward the bed, snatched the gift box, and hugged it to her chest. Her eyes rested on his bag, left open wide.
A framed picture lay on top of his folded clothes. Gia plucked it from the satchel and held it up.
Her eyes widened with horror. Her skin flushed. Her heart raced like it would soon fly free from her chest and head for the hills. There, in vivid color, stood Marco the Marine, in full uniform, next to a picture of her beautiful, romantic sister, Shauna. They looked happy as hell and very much in love.
“He...he was engaged to be married to Shauna? Sharp shards of shame and regret instantly replaced the delight that had rolled through her seconds ago. “No, no, no, no, no. Say it isn’t so. I killed his love. He can’t...he can’t want me.”
The photo slid from her hands, along with the gift, both of them clattering on the parquet floor. She blindly groped for a shirt and some drawstring shorts in Marco’s bag, threw them on, and headed for the door.
She had one mission and one mission alone—to head to the rooftop bar and kill herself with a bottle of booze.
Chapter 21
Gia stared morosely at the half-full shot glass of amber liquid sitting next to the bottle of bourbon, on top of the glass aquarium underneath the bar-top. She twirled the shot glass round and round in her hand, noting the familiar way it fit in her palm. Beneath her gaze, fish swam to and fro in the giant aquarium bar. Outside the window, stars twinkled, softly lighting the bay.
Gia barely saw them, immersed in her misery. She vaguely tracked the muted conversations and the footsteps behind her. All she experienced were memories of a lifetime of fuck-ups, two in particular. One, she’d loved and killed, the other she’d loved and left before she got in too deep—and that was because she’d killed his love.
A strong, steely hand clamped around her neck, followed by a deep baritone voice.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Marco said.
Gia jerked, her eyes landing on her reflection in the mirror behind the bar.
Marco wore jeans and a different shirt than he had on earlier. His countenance said, “I’m a Marine and you don’t want to mess with me.”
Her hands flew out. “I didn’t touch it, not a drop, you can ask the bartender.” She whirled to face Marco and knocked the bottle off the bar in the process. It crashed to the floor in an explosion of glass fragments and Kentucky’s finest. “I’ll pay for it, honest,” she blubbered to the bartender. “Put it on my tab. Put everyone’s drinks on my tab.” She shivered with embarrassment.
“She’s good for the payment,” Marco snarled at the bartender. “She’s rich.” He hauled her to her feet. “But that’s about all, I’m afraid.” His grip on her collar tightened. “You’re coming with me.” He dragged her unceremoniously from the bar to the tune of about ten mobile phone camera flashes.
Fuck, Gia thought. TMZ, here I come.
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Marco said. He marched her down the stairs to his room.
She tripped and stumbled, trying to stay afoot.
He shoved open the door to his room, still keeping a tight grip on her shirt.
“Let go of my shirt, Marco” Gia pleaded. Her hands clawed at his arms.
He released her and gestured toward the bed, sweeping his arm in an angry, agitated gesture. “There. I’ve let go.” His face bore the demeanor of rage and hurt as he gestured to the framed photo of him and Shauna. “I take it you met my fiancée, Susy?”
“Susy? What? No, her name was…”
“She’s dead, or have you forgotten? I had every intention of doing a small ceremony and casting this picture out to sea. I thought to slip out at dawn. Or did you think I made up the whole story of her death,
huh? That’s the way I roll. One smooth move a minute. I woo new chicks with the story of the dead girl. Fuck, Gia.”
“I...it wasn’t like that,” Gia began.
Marco didn’t let her finish. “Here I was, laying on the bed, thinking how happy I was and how life could begin anew. I send my new girlfriend into my bedroom to retrieve the gift I bought her...the one she threw on the floor...feeling like the luckiest guy alive, but no...she decided to go get hammered because...because...because I don’t know why.”
“I told you, I didn’t touch a drop. You can ask the...”
“And then, she doesn’t return. I get a little worried. I call Dante, thinking she’s gone to his room for some reason. Maybe she went up there to tell him he could stop worrying about her. But no, Dante doesn’t know where she is. A big, fat light bulb blows up in my head, and I think I know where she is. That girl must be opening my present, I think. I’m fucking brilliant, don’t you think?” Marco glared at her.
“I...it wasn’t...” Gia started to say.
“So I get up, wander into the hall naked because she said it was cool and who do I run into? The maid, that’s who. She said she saw you racing upstairs...for the bar. And me, ever the fool, thinks, what did I do to make her run for the bar? I gave her pleasure, right? I made her feel safe and wonderful, right? And I go to my room to get some clothes, see my gift and the photo, stomp up the stairs and find you sitting with a bottle of one of your favorite escapes. Fuck me.” Marco looked fatigued now like all the bluster had drained from him. He sank into the armchair resting in the corner.
“It wasn’t like that, Marco. I know you didn’t fake your girlfriend’s death. Believe me, I know.” Gia felt wretched. Do I tell him? She hung her head in her hands.
“So why did you do it, Gia? Why the fuck did you run? Didn’t you have a good time tonight?”
Gia lifted her head from her hands. The pain etched on his face cut deep into her heart. “I...I did.”
“Don’t you believe I love you? Do you think it was easy to share my feelings with you?” he asked.
“I do believe you love me. I do. I just...I don’t think you should, Marco. I destroy things. I ruin love. I kill it,” Gia said, unable to speak the full truth.
“That’s only the past talking. That’s your alcoholic mind. Now it makes sense. You got scared. I understand,” he said, switching to Mr. Reasonable.
His care and understanding stabbed at her insides.
“I don’t deserve you. More like, you deserve far greater than me. I don’t think I can do this,” Gia said, her heart bashing against the bones of her ribcage.
“What? You can’t do you and me? It was only a fling, is that it?” Now he looked like he’d blow up again. “Fuck, Gia. You’re killing me. You’re not making any sense.”
“Better to kill you before I destroy you,” she said, some of her tough girl armor returning. “It’s better this way. You’ll thank me later.”
The seconds crawled by with neither of them saying anything.
At long last, Marco got to his feet. “I’m going to get my clothes out of your room.”
She numbly nodded.
He left the room, her heart dragging behind him.
She sat stiff and unmoving on the bed, frozen in an ice block of fear. I don’t want to lose him.
When the door opened, she sat forward and blurted, “We can fix this, Marco. I know we can. I don’t want this to end.”
“Found something sticking out of your pants pocket.” He waved a Polaroid photo at her and quietly said, “So Shauna’s your sister. The one who died in the car crash.”
Quiet Marco seemed deadlier than raging Marco or even hurt Marco.
Gia’s eyes began to stream tears. “I didn’t...I wasn’t...”
“It was a mistake, is that what you were going to say? ‘Marco, it was one of my big boo-boos. I was blitzed, and I took her for a joy ride.’”
“I wasn’t driving!”
“And oops, a semi crossed the line and hit the truck. That’s what they told me. They said they weren’t at liberty to tell me more. Someone had the story wiped from the press. Was that you and your famous lawyers?” He flung the photo at her. It fluttered, ineffectually to the floor.
“My publicist, Joan. She did it,” Gia said, feeling heavy and wooden.
“Your publicist. I always wondered what the hush-hush was about. But me, the military man well-versed in classified documents, didn’t think to pry. I was probably too numb with grief. Mystery solved,” he said, placing his hands on his hips. “How long have you known? Were you ever going to tell me? Or, were you stringing me along? Let’s mess with the big dummy’s heart, what do you say?”
“Marco, I only found out tonight. When I came to your room,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t believe her.
“You lied to me. You’ve been lying from the start.” He shook his head, betrayal painted all over his face. “I don’t believe you. Alcoholics lie. It’s their bottom line.”
“Not this time.” Gia dragged her body from the bed. “You never even told me her name,” she weakly protested. “Am I supposed to have guessed you were going to marry my sister, Shauna Swain? Intuited it? Give me a break.”
“Shauna Swain?” Marco’s brows drew together. “She told me her name was Susy Golightly.”
Gia blinked in surprise, then, shook her head. “It was Shauna. Susy Golightly was a name she gave to one of our Barbie’s. She thought it sounded like a name deserving of some happiness.”
“So she lied to me, too.” He spoke with a flat tone, his eyes appearing dead. “You’re both liars. She was probably lying about taking me to meet her family when I got back. She probably planned on hiring some actors or bribing some friends.”
“She wasn’t like that. Shauna was an honest girl.”
“Not with me.” Lines of betrayal and mistrust made grooves in Marco’s face.
She took a step toward him.
“Don’t get near me,” Marco said, putting his palms up. His eyes narrowed into slits of mistrust.
“I won’t,” she said. “I’m going to my room.”
“Good. I’ll be leaving in the morning. I can catch a commuter flight to New York, no problem,” he said, his tone flat.
“You don’t have to, it’s a big jet,” Gia said.
“With you in it,” he said, driving a sword through her heart. “I need to get back to cancel a transaction. I thought of renting an apartment on the lower east side. I found a decent one at a decent price. They loved me. The realtor, I mean.” He ran a weary hand through his hair. “I’ve been adrift for months, traveling here and there. But I thought things might work out between you and me. Seems you’re not willing to be honest with me. To face the truth with me by your side.”
“But Marco,” she said. “How could I...?”
“Forget it. Let’s let bygones be bygones. I can say I slept with the great Ms. Styx Swain. I’ll put it on my resume. Hell, maybe I can frame it and hang it on the wall.” He swept his palm through the air. “Marco Monroe sleeps with the stars.” He glanced at her. “Well, one in particular. Only one. Not going to make that mistake again. I’m a fool. I’m such a fool.” He formally bowed to her, and then gave her a crisp salute. “ Good luck with sobriety, Ms. Styx.”
Without another word—What more could he say, really?—he opened the door and gestured for her to leave.
Chapter 22
A week and a half later, Keys and Heat boasted about their latest sexcapades in Gia’s living room. At Dante’s insistence, they’d been assigned to “guard dog duty”—more like “loser watch”—as they all prepped for the holiday tour, starting next week. Dante had been worried about Gia’s state of mind so took it upon himself to organize the band and Kennedy to keep her company until they began their tour.
“Aw, yeah, that shorty showed you. When you couldn’t get it up, she poured beer on your wanger,” Keys said, hooting. “‘Take that, you big booze-hound,’“ he said in a high-p
itched voice. “‘You should be hard as stone when I’m in the room,’“ he added, in the same girlie tone.
“Shut up.” Heat rolled his eyes. “I got it up when the other chick came in the room. The bitch you rolled with was homely as they come. Asshole.”
“Yeah,” Keys said. “Girl thought herself, Miss Universe. ‘Oh, hey,’“ he said, back to his girl's voice. “‘Don’t you like what I’m wearing? I’m so pretty, don’t you think?’“
“Right. And she’s on the bed having starfish sex with you,” Heat said, getting his own jabs in. He chortled with laughter. “Arms wide, eyes glazed, waiting for you to finish.”
“Fuck that. She loved me.”
“Did not.”
“Did, too. She wasn’t nothing but a bang piece, anyway.”
“You fucked a starfish,” Heat taunted.
Gia listened to the two bozos from her bedroom, the door slightly ajar. “Idiots.”
They both howled with laughter.
“Some guard dogs they are,” she muttered. “At least they’re entertaining.”
Their first gig would be held in Chicago. After that, it was Atlanta, Minneapolis, Phoenix, Denver, Portland, Vancouver, Canada and then Seattle, a week before Christmas, followed by Christmas break for the band. After that, they’d head for the Bay Area and then So. Cal.
If I make it that far, Gia thought, staring at their schedule. Without falling off the wagon. She sighed. Fat chance of losing the fight with booze.
Every time she even thought of a drink, the photo of Marco and Shauna swam through her head like an Olympic contender in a sprint for the gold—that was after it did a barrel jump, complete with a mighty splash, into her mind’s thought pool. Each and every time, it captured her attention, paralyzing her.
She sat at her simple desk next to the window that overlooked the park across the street.
Children pushed each other in swings and ran around in circles in the cyclone fence enclosed city park, making all kinds of joyous noise. Moms sat in benches talking. Gia glanced at them from time to time, with no more interest than watching flies buzz around the windowsill.
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