Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  ‘I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Talking after sex is an overrated pastime,’ he drawled as he reached for a towel. ‘I prefer just to enjoy the physical.’

  ‘Well, that’s pretty obvious.’ The reminder that none of the feelings she was experiencing were new to him simply increased her misery. ‘I think your bedroom technique needs work.’

  He turned, treating her to an uninterrupted view of his gloriously male body. Suddenly her fingers itched with the need to draw him, and she took an involuntary step backwards, almost blinded by his physical perfection. She’d sketch him in pencil, using strong, bold strokes … She looked away, knowing instinctively that no artist, not even Michelangelo or Da Vinci, would be able to do justice to the masculine power of his body. A drawing would always be two-dimensional, and even a sculpture wouldn’t be able to faithfully reproduce the glossy curves of hard, strong muscle.

  Ominously still, Rocco watched her for a long moment, his dark eyes glittering with incredulous disbelief. ‘What did you say?’

  She swallowed hard, trying not to be intimidated by the power and strength of his physique. ‘I said that your bedroom technique needs work.’

  ‘You’ve just had an incredible orgasm—I suspect the first of your life. I left you limp and exhausted on the bed.’ His voice was low and deadly, his eyes glinting dangerously. ‘Just what exactly needs work?’ He prowled over to her, and she gave a soft gasp and averted her eyes from the curling dark hairs that shaded his broad chest.

  He was too close.

  ‘It wasn’t the sex, it was afterwards,’ she muttered, her cheeks burning hot as fire as she concentrated on the tiles. ‘You didn’t say anything—nice.’

  ‘Nice?’ He sounded genuinely confused. ‘What do you mean by nice?’

  ‘You didn’t say anything personal. And if you didn’t find me attractive then it’s your own fault. I warned you not to do it in daylight,’ she said, and there was a long silence.

  ‘What does daylight have to do with anything?’

  She bit her lip. ‘If you’d waited until dark, you wouldn’t have been able to see my body.’

  ‘Which is precisely why I chose full sunlight,’ he responded in a silky tone, sliding a hand under her chin and forcing her to look at him. ‘Why wouldn’t I want to see your body?’

  Did he need her to spell it out? ‘I’m not your usual type. I thought perhaps you—’

  He interrupted her. ‘What would you change about your body?’ He spoke in his usual tone of command. ‘Tell me. I want to know.’

  ‘Oh—well, that’s obvious.’ She tried to look away from him, but his fingers held her fast, preventing her from moving. ‘I’d have smaller everything. Smaller boobs, smaller hips, shorter legs—’

  ‘Then it’s fortunate for me that you’re not in a position to alter what nature has given you.’ He released her chin, caught the hem of his shirt and pulled it upwards, resisting her feeble attempt to stop him. ‘Your body is perfect, tesoro. I would change nothing except your continued desire to cover it up.’

  Perfect? He’d said that once before, and she hadn’t believed him then, either. Instinctively she tried to shield herself with her arms, but he gave a soft laugh and took her wrists, forcing her to loop her arms round his neck.

  ‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘You can’t possibly like my body.’

  ‘You need further proof?’ Sliding his hands around her waist, he hauled her against him in a decisive movement, and she felt the hard thrust of his erection pressing against her.

  Her gasp of shock was muffled by the demanding pressure of his kiss.

  ‘Convinced yet, angelo mio?’

  Dizzy from the unexpected assault on her senses, she tried to remember what their conversation had been about. ‘So if you find me attractive then why did you leap out of bed so suddenly?’

  ‘Because I can’t be in bed with you and not make love.’ He gave a slow, sexy smile and stroked her hair away from her face. ‘And it is too soon for that. I don’t want to hurt you, so I decided to take a long, cold shower as an alternative.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her eyes flitted to the shower and she noticed the distinct absence of steam. He was taking a cold shower? When he’d left the bed so quickly he’d been thinking of her? In a good way?

  ‘And now I have a question for you,’ he said softly, sliding a hand over the soft curve of her bottom with almost arrogant assurance. ‘I want to know exactly who made you think you are fat?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘The girls at school. My father. Myself, looking in the mirror. Everyone, I suppose.’

  He frowned sharply. ‘Your own father knocked your confidence?’

  ‘I think it would be more accurate to say that he attacked it with a cricket bat,’ she said flatly, and then realised that she’d probably said too much. She frowned slightly, astounded by her own behaviour. After twenty-one years of keeping her mouth clamped shut, she suddenly seemed to be speaking her mind at every possible opportunity.

  His eyes rested on her face, his expression thoughtful. ‘I see. Well, your father was wrong, and I never want to hear you speak of yourself like that again. Your body is perfect in every way. There is absolutely nothing I would change.’

  Softened by the compliment, and the unexpected gentleness in his eyes, she let her hands trail downwards, loving the satiny strength of his shoulders. ‘Nothing? You really mean that?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He murmured the words against her mouth. ‘You are everything I want and I’m going to prove it to you. Again and again, tesoro.’

  And he did.

  The next two weeks passed in a blur of sexual ecstasy, and it became increasingly obvious to her that Rocco just couldn’t leave her alone. All night, every night, he made love to her, ignoring her inhibitions and her insecurities, taking such obvious pleasure in her body that it was impossible for her to feel anything other than completely desired. And it felt fantastic.

  And if he wasn’t exactly affectionate, he was extremely complimentary about her body, and she told herself that it was a start. Rocco clearly wasn’t used to expressing his feelings, and she had some sympathy with that because neither was she.

  They’d learn, she told herself as she lay in a satisfied stupor two weeks after she’d arrived back in Sicily. Together, they’d learn.

  She knew he cared about her because he showed her that he did, and for the first time in her life she felt good about herself.

  She felt attractive.

  She felt sexy.

  She felt like a woman.

  When it came to sexual Olympics, Rocco definitely took the gold medal. His energy levels and stamina were nothing short of awesome.

  Each day now followed the same pattern. He’d work in the suite of offices that took up one wing of the spacious villa, and then he’d spend the entire night making love to her before rising at dawn to begin another working day. His schedule was punishing, and when he ate and slept she had absolutely no idea. A small, nagging part of her wished he’d spend more daylight hours with her—wished that they shared more than mind-blowing sex—but then she reminded herself that he was a billionaire, and billionaires didn’t make their money by lounging around all day, even if they were newly married.

  On more than one occasion it crossed her mind to wonder why a man so wealthy continued to be so driven in his working habits, but she didn’t have the opportunity to ask because their relationship didn’t include time for conversation. and that was fine, she told herself. Didn’t lots of relationships begin life focused on sex and then move on to deeper, more lasting emotions?

  And as for her own feelings—being with him was the first real adventure she’d had in her life. Rocco made her feel feminine and desirable, and he knew things about her body that came as a complete surprise to her.

  Her burning desire for freedom had retreated into the recesses of her mind, and her entire focus was their relationship.

  Every night he stro
lled into their bedroom like a warrior claiming the spoils of battle, and every night her resolution that this was the night they were just going to cuddle up and talk lasted less than ten seconds.

  Their relationship was basic and primitive, but it was also sensitive and caring, and she no longer had any doubts that he found her attractive. In fact she was becoming increasingly convinced that he actually liked her. Why else would he spend hour after hour making love to her? He couldn’t leave her alone, and she just loved the fact that he clearly found her so addictive.

  It was only a matter of time before the closeness spread into other parts of their lives, she assured herself. He’d take her with him on business trips abroad; they’d travel and they’d spend time exploring together.

  Rolling onto her back and feeling the faint protest of her aching body, Chessie gave a satisfied feminine smile. He might not have said that he loved her, but he definitely loved her body, which was a start. Over and over again he’d tell her that she was perfect.

  Perfect.

  She rolled the word around in her head and smiled a satisfied. The fact that he just couldn’t stop having sex with her delighted her. He made love to her repeatedly, night after night, telling her that he found her completely irresistible, and for the first time in her life she was starting to feel confident about the way she looked.

  And he hadn’t spent a single night away from her since they’d arrived on the island, she reminded herself, hugging the knowledge to her like a warm blanket. Since he’d deposited her in his bed on that first night, he clearly hadn’t felt the need to see other women.

  In fact she was coming to the conclusion that she’d been wrong in thinking that he was like her father.

  Entirely wrong.

  It was true that Rocco was strong and tough, but he was also sensitive to her needs, and they were becoming closer with each passing night of passion. Had her father spent every night in her mother’s bed? No. She knew for a fact that he hadn’t.

  Feeling confident that it was only a matter of time before Rocco found that he couldn’t go a whole day without seeking out her company, Chessie slid out of bed, took a quick shower, and then dressed and reached for her bag.

  She’d taken to spending her days on the beach, catching up on sleep and indulging in her secret hobby. Drawing. She no longer had to hide what she did, because Rocco had better things to do than rifle through her things as her father had habitually done. Most days she swam; sometimes she just lay there, drawing and dreaming of Rocco, thinking of the night ahead.

  But today, as she settled herself on her rug on the sand, she felt ridiculously unsettled.

  She missed Rocco.

  Glancing at her watch, she realised that it was barely afternoon. Hours yet until he’d arrive in their bedroom.

  Unless she went to see him. And why shouldn’t she? Why should it always be Rocco who took the initiative?

  Feeling incredibly daring, she gathered up her things and walked back to the villa, slowly plucking up the courage she needed to go and see him in the wing of the villa that he used as an office.

  To her surprise, it was a hive of activity.

  Four extremely pretty girls were clearly snowed under with work in a light, airy office, and beyond them, in a much larger glass-fronted room with a breathtaking view of the sea, was Rocco.

  He was perched on the edge of his desk, cradling the telephone between his shoulder and his ear, in the middle of what was clearly a heated exchange. The perfect white of his rolled-up shirtsleeves contrasted with the bronze of his forearms, and the fluid, demonstrative gestures he made with his hand indicated his growing frustration at the direction of the conversation.

  For a moment Chessie paused in the doorway, captivated by the width of his shoulders and the command in his voice as he issued a string of complex instructions down the phone. And then his eyes lifted and he saw her.

  ‘I’ll call you back.’ He replaced the phone, cutting the connection without apology or visible sign of regret. His eyes were hard, his expression businesslike as he focused on her dishevelled appearance. ‘Has something happened? Is something the matter?’

  It was a reflection of their marriage, she acknowledged ruefully, that he would associate her presence with a problem. Apart from their physical relationship, they never spent time together. They never usually even saw each other during the day. But she was about to change all that. She was about to move their relationship to a different level—give him the nudge that he needed.

  Suddenly she wished she hadn’t come straight from the beach. She should have stopped to change. Not that her wardrobe was exactly extensive, but she was suddenly horribly conscious that her beach clothes were creased.

  ‘Nothing’s the matter.’ How could anything be the matter when the incredible night they’d shared only hours earlier was still replaying in her head? ‘I just wanted to see you. To talk.’

  ‘Talk?’ He repeated the word as if it were something foreign that he didn’t recognize, and then he straightened and walked towards her. ‘What about?’

  He was so tall, she mused dreamily. Six foot two at least. He was the only man who’d ever made her forget her own height. With him she no longer felt like a displaced giraffe, and she had no need to hunch or wear flat shoes.

  Chessie linked her hands together, wondering how to revive the intimacy that had enveloped them both during the previous night. She just wanted him to say something soft—something affectionate that would prove that he cared for her. But he wasn’t great at that, she admitted with a faint frown. Rocco was more about action than words.

  Realising that his staff were probably listening to every word, she glanced over her shoulder. ‘Can we close the door?’

  ‘I’m working, Chessie.’

  Trying not to be discouraged by his businesslike tone, she reminded herself that he hadn’t been expecting to see her, and probably still had his mind on his phone call. ‘It’s just that I wanted to talk to you. In private.’

  He studied her face for a moment, and then the hardness of his gaze was replaced by something softer. The tension in the air was replaced by a sense of anticipation. He strolled the length of his office and slammed the door shut with the flat of his hand. ‘We have privacy,’ he announced in a silky tone. ‘And I am looking forward to hearing what it is that you have to tell me.’

  ‘You’re not angry with me for disturbing you?’

  ‘Some things are worth being disturbed for, and this is certainly one of them.’ He walked back to her, a smile on his face, and she felt the warm flood of relief spread through her limbs. She’d been right to come. He did care for her. It was just that he wasn’t used to being interrupted in the middle of his working day, and he obviously found it hard to express his feelings. Clearly he needed a little prompting.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t wait until tonight.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ he purred, lowering his mouth to hers in a brief but lingering kiss. ‘Why wait when you have something important to divulge? I’m glad you came.’

  Suitably encouraged, Chessie smiled up at him. ‘I want us to spend more time together.’

  ‘Of course you do—and we will.’ His own smile was indulgent. ‘Family trips. Picnics. I sense that your own father was very strict with you and had very little to do with your upbringing. You needn’t worry. I think it’s very important for a boy to have a male role model, and I intend to be a very involved with my son right from the beginning.’

  His son? She stared at him blankly. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You are trying to tell me that you’re pregnant. You needn’t worry. I’m delighted by the news—and of course I’ve been expecting it.’

  He thought she was pregnant? ‘Wh-why would you be expecting me to be pregnant?’

  ‘Why else have we made love all night, every night for the past two weeks if not to make you pregnant?’ He gave a careless shrug. ‘Creating a family is what our marriage is
about. It’s fantastic news. I’m really, really pleased, tesora. You’re a clever girl.’

  She gaped at him in disbelief, his words echoing in her head. A flashback to endless ecstatic sex suddenly careered through her mind. ‘This past two weeks…’ Her voice almost failed her, because a horrifying, alternative scenario that she hadn’t previously contemplated was forming in her mind. ‘You were trying to make me pregnant?’

  ‘Of course.’ His faint frown revealed that he considered her question superfluous. ‘What else?’

  What else? She wanted to ask him about passion and desire, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. Instead her brain sifted through the information at her disposal. ‘Y-you told me my body was perfect.’

  ‘And it is perfect. How could you doubt it?’ He stood back from her, his eyes dropping to her full breasts and then moving lower still, to the curve of her hips. ‘I’ve told you that over and over again. Everything about you is designed for motherhood. Your hips are perfectly curved—designed for bearing children.’

  Designed for bearing children? He thought her body was perfect because it was designed for bearing children? Not because she was sexy and irresistible?

  The fragile shoots of her confidence snapped, and for a moment she was so shocked she couldn’t think, let alone speak.

  ‘I need to sit down,’ she croaked weakly, and instantly his arm came around her and he guided her to the squashy cream sofa in the corner of his office.

  ‘Of course you do.’ His tone was smooth and concerned. ‘You need plenty of rest, and I’m very sympathetic. From now on I’ll leave you alone at night. You can sleep.’

  It was the last thing she’d wanted or expected to hear, and she sat down on the sofa with a plop, her legs shaking too much to hold her. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she had to lick her lips before she could form the words that needed to be said. ‘You didn’t come to bed every night because you found me attractive but because you wanted us to have a baby?’ Slightly dazed, she mumbled the words almost to herself, as if by voicing the truth aloud she might be able to make sense of it. ‘You didn’t really like my body?’