Melanie Milburne Bestseller Collection 201209/The Marcolini Blackmail Marriage/Bound by the Marcolini Diamonds

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  There was so much she didn’t know about her new husband. Surely it was her right to inspect his private quarters? How else could she find out who he was, what he liked, what he didn’t like, what things he chose to have around his private space? She had read somewhere that the three keys to knowing someone was to meet their family, go for a drive with them behind the wheel, and look into their bedroom. Well, Sabrina hadn’t yet met Mario’s older brother, but she had been for a drive with Mario behind the wheel, so this was the next step. Maybe she was rationalising her intrusion into his privacy, but he had railroaded her into marriage, so surely she had a right to get her own back?

  Sabrina watched as her hand slowly reached out to the door knob. It was still not too late to pull back, but instead of doing so she turned it clockwise and the door opened. And then, taking an uneven breath, she stepped over the threshold.

  It was a very masculine room.

  A large, king-size bed was made up with linen that looked every bit as luxurious as that on her own bed two doors away, but instead of the pink-and-white ensemble on her bed his was starkly black and white. The bedside tables followed the theme; they were black marble, and the lamp-stands polished white marble, the shades a muted grey.

  Sabrina could smell him in the air she breathed, the hint of his aftershave, the musk of his male body, and something else she felt drawn to in a way she could neither explain nor understand.

  She wandered over to the huge bed, stroking her hand over the spread, her fingertips tingling with sensation as she thought about his long, strong body stretched out in sleep or in the process of hot, passionate sex. How many women had he entertained in here? How many women had he pleasured with his leanly toned body—not to mention that sensual mouth of his?

  Sabrina stumbled backwards from her way-ward thoughts, only to come up against a wall of warm, hard, male muscle. She spun round, her eyes going wide when she came face to face with Mario. ‘I … I was just … just …’ Her voice trailed off, her colour rising, her heart stuttering behind her ribcage like a two-stroke engine.

  Mario’s cynical gaze stripped her naked. ‘Come to play, Sabrina?’ he asked.

  Sabrina brushed at her loose hair with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. ‘I was just, um, looking around.’ It sounded so pathetic, so contrived. It sounded like a woman who was on the prowl, and she could see from the dark glint in his eyes that was exactly the way he had read it.

  ‘Looking around for what?’ he said, snaking an arm out to block her exit, his eyes like steel darts pinning hers.

  She felt the searing brand of his hand on her forearm, his long fingers overlapping each other around her slim wrist. The air pulsed with tension, a tension she could feel passing from his body to hers. It was as if by merely touching their blood was heating, the temperature rising by the second, until she felt sure she was going to boil unless he let her go. ‘N-nothing,’ she said in a cracked whisper.

  He pulled her up close to his body, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, temptation to temptation. ‘We both know what you are looking for, don’t we, Sabrina?’

  Sabrina could see her own desire reflected in the black pits of his eyes. His pupils were dilated, so much so she had trouble distinguishing the irises from them. Could he see what she was feeling? she wondered. Could he see how she longed for his mouth to capture hers and titillate her senses into overload?

  The tip of her tongue came out over her lips, and her stomach folded as his eyes dipped to follow its movement. His eyes came back to hers, the message in them plucking at the strings of her desire, playing a melody she had no hope of resisting. She felt each and every one of the vibrations throughout her body, her breasts aching as they pushed against the lacy restraint of her bra. Her legs felt unsteady, her heart rate equally so. Her body was suddenly outside of her control; it was acting of its own accord, doing things she had not thought possible just a few moments ago. It was moving against his, seeking his hot, hard heat, her hips melting into the thrust and grind of his like the wanton woman he took her to be.

  ‘God damn you,’ he growled and, bringing his head down, crushed her mouth beneath his.

  It was just like his last two kisses, explosive and out of control within seconds. Sabrina relished every sweep and thrust of his brandy-scented tongue; she revelled in every guttural groan he tried to suppress as she moved against him instinctively. It felt so good to be in his embrace; it felt so right for some strange reason. Her body fitted so neatly against his, her feminine softness against his hardness in a way that made her feel as if this was meant to be, that this moment was inevitable, and had been from the moment they had first met. That first spark of interest in his dark eyes had awakened her femininity, made her become aware of her body and its needs, and how only he could meet them. No one else had affected her the way he did. She didn’t think anyone else could, not now she had been singed by the sensual heat of his touch.

  She could have stopped him, she should have stopped him, but still she returned his kiss— inciting him to caress her breasts, to shape them with his hands, to tug her clothes out of the way so he could feel her skin on skin, so he could open his mouth over one erect nipple, sucking, licking and drawing on her until she was whimpering in pleasure. He moved to her other breast, subjecting it to the same passionate assault before he pressed her backwards towards the bed.

  Sabrina considered telling him of her inexperience. She even opened her mouth in that brief moment when his left hers, but all she could manage to say was his name: ‘Mario …’

  His dark eyes swept over her hungrily, making her blood race through her veins at a terrifying pace. ‘I told myself I would not do this,’ he said, breathing hard. ‘But the truth is I have wanted to do this since the first day we met.’

  ‘I wanted it too,’ she breathed against his lips as they sealed hers again with a kiss that left her in no doubt of where they were heading from here.

  Sabrina felt the mattress at the back of her knees, but even then she didn’t stop him. It was like someone else was in charge of her senses; it wasn’t the sensible Sabrina Halliday who rarely dated, let alone kissed a man she barely knew. It was someone else, a sensual addict who pulsed and throbbed with lust for a man she all but hated.

  She fell back on the bed with his weight coming over her, his muscled thighs entrapping hers, his hands dealing with her clothes in much the same manner as she was dealing with his—frantically. Buttons popped, fabric ripped, and still it didn’t register that she should call a halt. She wanted this. She wanted to feel his passion, she wanted to feel him lose control because of her, because of the electric heat that had been passing between them like lightning bolts from the moment they had met.

  She lay beneath him, naked except for her knickers, her body writhing beneath the one last barrier that separated them. He had somehow dispensed with everything but his briefs, his aroused length pushing against that final, fragile shield like a tightly clenched fist pushing its way against a pair of closed velvet curtains.

  She sucked in a breath as he drew the lace from her body, the slow but steady slide of fabric down her thighs making her arch her spine in readiness for him. She quickly moistened her mouth. ‘Mario …’ she began. ‘I’m not—’ She stopped, pulled up short by the fear of him not going on if she told him the truth. She wanted this so much; she needed him to make her feel complete. Stopping now would leave them both stranded and unsatisfied.

  His eyes questioned hers. ‘Sabrina?’

  She ran her hands over his broad shoulders, relishing in the feel of the strength in his bunched muscles. Somehow she wasn’t so sure about hating him as much now. She wasn’t quite sure if it was possible to hate someone who had such an amazing ability to make her feel the way she was feeling.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, letting out a breath that prickled like a tiny free-floating thorn in her chest.

  After a moment he reached across her to open the bedside-table drawer to retrieve a condom. ‘Don’t worry
,’ he said. ‘I have protection. We don’t want any accidents.’

  It was a timely reminder of how many times he had done this in the past, but somehow Sabrina managed to ignore that in order to follow the instincts of her body. She watched as he sheathed himself, his length sending another wave of feverish excitement through her.

  He positioned her beneath him, locking his mouth on hers as he drove into her warm, moist heat in one deep, slick thrust that brought a gasp of sharp pain from Sabrina’s mouth into his.

  She felt his whole body freeze above hers.

  She blinked back the tears that had sprung to her eyes, feeling exposed in a way that was deeply unsettling as his frowning gaze sought hers.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked in a gravel-rough tone.

  Sabrina chewed at her lip, her eyes falling away from his. ‘I … I should have told you.’

  He anchored her chin to bring her gaze back to his. ‘Should have told me what?’ His eyes, those dark, melted-chocolate eyes, contained a flicker of uncertainty, something she had never seen in them before.

  She ran the point of her tongue across her lips, the taste of him still lingering there. His body was still encased in hers, hot, hard and stinging her slightly, although she did her best to conceal it. She felt foolish, gauche and foolish, like an immature child pretending to be an adult. She also felt a failure, a miserable failure at pleasuring a man. This was her first sexual experience and it was forever going to linger in her memory as a fiasco of monumental proportions. Shame coursed through her. She felt it in her cheeks, a burning fire that his dark intense gaze was stoking as each throbbing second passed.

  ‘Sabrina?’ he prompted.

  She fought against the wobble in her voice. ‘I—I’m not very experienced.’

  Mario slowly eased himself away from her. He had not for a moment considered she was a virgin. How could he have? He thought back over each and every conversation they had had and couldn’t remember a single clue to suggest she was anything but the slut the press had made her out to be. If anything she had on one or two occasions actively encouraged him to believe the stories about her were true.

  Guilt drove a dagger into his gut, ripping him wide open with remorse. He had hurt her; he had stolen from her the preciousness of her innocence, slaking his lust with no thought for anything but doing it, and doing it roughly and quickly.

  For all the years he had been dating and sleeping with partners, he had not once encountered a virgin. All the women he slept with had been as experienced as him, and, in his early-adult years, some even more so.

  He was deeply ashamed. He was not used to feeling so out of his depth. He was used to being in control, used to having things his way. He had always trusted his judgement. He had rarely got it wrong in the past.

  And yet he had got it horribly wrong about Sabrina.

  Horribly, horribly wrong.

  He looked at her grey eyes shining with moisture, and another blade of blame sliced through him. He cleared his tight throat, swallowing against the golf ball of guilt that had lodged there.

  ‘Sabrina …’ He sat upright, pulling the covers to shield her nakedness, wincing again when he saw her blood on the stark white of the sheet between her slender legs.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said, blushing like a rose. ‘It was my fault for not telling you. I was going to, but I felt so embarrassed. I let you believe—’

  Mario cut the air with a sharp, coarse oath. ‘I will not have you take the blame for what just happened,’ he insisted. He clawed his fingers through his hair as he got off the bed, turning his back to dispose of the condom, before he reached for a robe.

  Once he was covered, he turned back to face her. ‘Damn it, Sabrina, I hurt you. I was so rough with you I could have damaged you.’ He swallowed again, but his guilt would not move, either up or down; it remained to choke him until he could barely speak. How could she ever be the same after what he had done? He rubbed at the back of his neck, his guilt crawling beneath every pore of his skin. He had acted like an animal. He had hunted her down and mated with her, not taking the time to get to know her as she deserved to be known.

  He dragged his gaze back to her slim body lying in his bed. She hardly took up any room, her light weight barely making an impression on the mattress. He was six-feet-four and, although lean, he was close to twice her weight. He couldn’t bear to think of how tiny she was. He was disgusted with himself. He could barely stand to be in the same room as her for the shame he felt.

  He strode, agitated, to the en suite, came back with a warm, damp face cloth and handed it to her. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’ he asked, deeply ashamed of how inadequate it sounded.

  She shook her head, her small fingers clutching at the face cloth, her cheeks going a deeper shade of pink. ‘No, thank you. I just need to have a shower and … and get some sleep. I think it was the jet lag, you know? Why I allowed things to get so out of control …’

  Mario swore again. ‘Do not let me off the hook so lightly, Sabrina. I deserve to be horsewhipped for what I have done.’

  Her small, white teeth sank into her bottom lip again, her eyes moving out of reach of his. ‘I was with you all the way,’ she said so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

  ‘Not quite all the way,’ he said, and with a ragged sigh left her to dress in privacy.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SABRINA crawled out of Mario’s bed and, using the sheet as a wrap, bent down to pick up her scattered clothes. She winced as her inner muscles protested and another wave of embarrassment washed over her.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  What had she been thinking?

  She could blame it on the jet lag or the glass of wine she’d had with dinner, but deep down she wondered if that was just a cop out. She knew exactly why she had allowed him to make love to her: she wanted him. It was as simple as that.

  Was that wrong?

  No, of course not. What young woman of her age worried about having sex with someone they were deeply attracted to? She was old-fashioned, out of date and naïve to think sex was only for those who were in love. She wasn’t in love with Mario. She didn’t even like him. And yet there was something about him that drew her inexorably towards him. She felt like a small f luttering moth attracted to a dangerously hot flame. She had just got burnt and had only herself to blame.

  Sabrina checked on Molly before she went to the en suite off her room. After a shower she curled up on her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, torturing herself with wondering if Mario had left the palazzo to have his needs met elsewhere. Her mind began to picture him with his blonde mistress, the catwalk model she had seen him with in the newspapers several times. No doubt she would not have flinched at his touch, nor would she have blushed like a schoolgirl at seeing his naked body in full arousal. Sabrina groaned and put the pillow over her face, trying to block the taunting images.

  When there was a soft knock at her door, she blinked in surprise. ‘Y-yes?’ she said.

  ‘Sabrina, it’s me,’ Mario said. ‘May I come in?’

  ‘Um, yes.’ She sat upright as he came into the room.

  He too had showered. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, not nightwear as she was, but then she assumed he didn’t own any. She couldn’t imagine that long, leanly muscled body encased in boring old-fashioned flannelette or cotton pyjamas.

  His gaze ran over her for a moment. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

  Sabrina felt her face heating under his scrutiny. ‘I’m fine.’

  He came over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, his brow heavily furrowed. ‘Why did you not defend yourself about the Roebourne affair?’ he asked.

  She hugged her knees to her chest, her flesh tingling with awareness with him so close. She couldn’t stop looking at his mouth, thinking of how it had burned so fiercely against hers.

  Mario tipped up her chin so her gaze met his. ‘Sabrina?’

  She pressed her lips together, tr
ying to keep herself from pitching forward into his arms to finish what they had started. Her body was still aching for him. Every nerve was on high alert for his touch, even her chin felt like fire where his fingers were holding her.

  ‘I didn’t want to upset the children,’ she finally said.

  His brow furrowed. ‘The Roebourne children?’

  ‘Yes. They are very young, but not too young to hear what would have been said about their father in the papers if I had told the truth about what had happened.’

  Mario released her chin and picked up one of her hands instead, stroking the back of it with his thumb as he held her gaze. ‘What did happen?’ he asked.

  She looked down at her hand in his before bringing her eyes back to his. ‘I was very naïve about him,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise he was grooming me to be his scapegoat. By the time I did realise what was going on it was too late to do anything. The children had enough to deal with, without learning about their father’s attempts to seduce me. Besides it was his word against mine. I couldn’t see how anyone would believe me.’

  Mario’s hand tightened around hers. ‘Did he threaten you in any way?’ he asked.

  Her grey eyes became shadowed for a brief moment. ‘A couple of times, yes.’

  Mario felt his insides burn with bile. He was not a violent man, but right now he wanted to drive his fist into Howard Roebourne’s face for how he had maligned Sabrina’s reputation. But he was just as angry at himself for treating her the way he had. If he had been thinking with his head instead of other parts of his anatomy he would have realised she couldn’t possibly be as bad as she had been portrayed. In spite of her friendship with Laura, Ric would never have agreed to have Sabrina nominated as guardian of Molly if he had not had complete trust in her.