Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  Amazed by how different she looked, and unable to stop peeping at herself in the mirror, Chessie sat passive while someone did her nails and make up.

  If this was how long Rocco’s lovers took to get ready every time they went out, she thought to herself, then it was little wonder that they didn’t have time for more serious commitments or a job. Being beautiful was definitely a full-time occupation.

  Finally she left the salon and slid into the limousine that was waiting for her. But as they drove through the outskirts of Florence, Chessie felt her new-found confidence drain away.

  It was all very well, dressing in a seductive way, but she had to learn to behave in a similar fashion and she wasn’t sure she was up to it. She kept tugging at the hem of her skirt, and checking her cleavage to check she wasn’t displaying too much.

  Trying to boost her flagging confidence, she reminded herself that she looked good. In fact she couldn’t wait to see Rocco’s face when he realised that his wife was capable of being a sex siren. Comparing the way she looked now with her usual appearance, she came to the uncomfortable conclusion that it probably was her fault that up until now he’d only ever thought about her in the role of mother. After all, she’d hardly given him cause to think differently, had she?

  But things were about to change.

  When he saw her he was going to realise that his wife was also a living, breathing, sexy woman.

  Their whole relationship was about to change for the better.

  All the same, when the car finally drew up outside the nightclub that Max had assured her Rocco would be frequenting that night, she felt almost sick with nerves.

  Hoping that she wouldn’t fall and break something vital, trying to walk in her ridiculously high heels, Chessie reached for her bag. ‘Don’t wait for me,’ she told the driver as she slid gingerly from the car, ‘because I’m going to be a while.’

  She teetered past the man policing the door and picked her way carefully down the marble stairs that wound into the darkness of the nightclub. Lights swirled, music pounded, and for a moment she just stopped and stared, amazed by the frenetic atmosphere. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she noticed that the club was quite large, with a central dance floor surrounded by a seating area, and an ultra-modern-looking bar made out of glass and chrome.

  Fascinated by the vibrant energy of the people on the dance floor, Chessie watched with admiration and a touch of envy as a woman lifted her arms high and swayed her hips in blatant invitation to her partner. Wondering what it would be like to be that uninhibited, Chessie watched a few others, seeking clues as to how they managed to dance in the heels.

  ‘Fancy joining them? I can’t believe someone as beautiful as you can possibly find herself without a partner, but I’m more than willing to oblige,’ came a slurred male voice from beside her, and she turned to find herself uncomfortably close to a tall, handsome Italian man.

  ‘Oh, no—I’m not on my own.’ Realising that his eyes were fastened on the dip in her cleavage, she struggled against the impulse to cover herself. ‘I’m with someone.’

  ‘And he left you alone?’ He moved closer. ‘Is he a fool?’

  ‘I—He—’ Chessie’s eyes slid back to the crowd and she felt a rush of relief as she saw Rocco saunter onto the dance floor. Relief turned to sick disappointment when she saw that his hand was locked around the wrist of a very beautiful blonde. Was it the same blonde he’d been with the previous night? Chessie narrowed her eyes. Same blonde. Different outfit.

  ‘I see him.’ A spark of anger igniting her flagging courage, she clutched her bag tightly and walked onto the dance floor, weaving her way through swaying couples until she reached Rocco.

  He hadn’t seen her approach, and was smiling down into the teasing blue eyes of his blonde companion, the warmth of his gaze unmistakable.

  Ignoring an impulse that told her to just run and hide, Chessie sucked in a deep breath, reached up and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me.’ Her voice barely carried over the throbbing music, but he turned instantly and stilled, his blank, discouraging look giving way to recognition.

  ‘Francesca?’ Even above the music she could hear the shock and disbelief in his tone. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Prepared for a look of stunned admiration, and seeing something entirely different in his eyes, Chessie felt her courage falter. ‘I was missing you.’

  For a moment he didn’t reply, and she watched as he inhaled deeply and took a good look at her. His eyes rested on the silky conditioned length of her beautifully cut hair before travelling slowly down over her bare shoulders, her exposed cleavage and the long length of sheer-stockinged leg. Shock turned to incredulity, and then to glowering disapproval.

  Only when his eyes reached her vertiginous heels did he finally recover his powers of speech.

  ‘ What have you done to yourself?’

  It wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. ‘Dressed up?’ She could barely hear him over the pounding music, but it was obvious from the thunderous expression in his eyes that he was less than pleased with her appearance. Suddenly her confidence died a dramatic death.

  Which bit of her outfit wasn’t right?

  A surreptitious glance behind him was enough to confirm that his companion for the evening was dressed in a similar manner, although admittedly on her the clothes looked different. But surely that was because the girl was extremely flat-chested and slim-hipped?

  Chessie bit her lip. She could change her outfit, but she couldn’t change her curves.

  ‘Rocco—’ Clearly resenting the competition for his attention, the girl curled perfectly manicured red nails over his arm. But he shrugged her away impatiently, his eyes still on Chessie.

  ‘This place isn’t appropriate for you.’

  ‘Why not?’ Her gaze challenged him, the spark in her eyes concealing the distinct quake in her stomach.

  He was about to answer, and then something over her left shoulder made his face darken alarmingly. Wondering what could possibly have triggered such a volcanic response, Chessie turned to find the man she’d met at the entrance hovering behind her. He ignored Rocco and gave her a suggestive smile.

  ‘How about that dance? Looks like your partner already has his hands full, so you might as well make do with me.’

  She opened her mouth to refuse, and then closed it again. She was standing in the middle of a dance floor making a complete fool of herself over a man who didn’t care about her. At least dancing with someone else would help to restore her dignity. ‘Why not?’

  The man reached out to take her hand, but Chessie felt strong fingers bite into her shoulder and she was jerked backwards into Rocco’s hard, muscular body.

  ‘She isn’t dancing,’ he said icily. ‘And she’s with me.’

  The blonde girl shot Chessie a malevolent look and stalked off the dance floor, but Rocco seemed oblivious to the fallout of his actions. Instead he released Chessie and shrugged out of his jacket, his eyes fixed on her beautifully made-up face. ‘Put this on. Now.’

  ‘I most certainly will not. It doesn’t match what I’m wearing and it will cover up my new clothes.’ Chessie moved slightly, so that the jacket slid into a pool on the floor.

  ‘That’s the general idea,’ Rocco said through gritted teeth as he stooped to retrieve it. ‘I want to cover you up. You’re making an exhibition of yourself.’

  ‘What about the girl you were with? Wasn’t she making an exhibition of herself?’

  ‘She isn’t my wife.’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me,’ Chessie said flatly, and Rocco’s eyes smouldered with building anger.

  ‘I won’t discuss this with you here. We’re leaving.’

  ‘Leaving?’ Chessie stepped away from him. ‘I’m not leaving. I’ve only just arrived, and you haven’t even danced with me yet!’

  ‘I’m not dancing with you when you’re dressed like that. You’re attracting enough attention without moving around.’


  ‘What do you mean “dressed like that”? This is the way you like your women to look, Rocco. I look exactly like your girlfriend—except that I’m bigger in certain places over which I have absolutely no control.’ With the help of the ridiculously high heels she could almost look him in the eye. ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong.’

  A muscle flickered in his lean, bronzed jaw and his dark eyes glittered dangerously. ‘I don’t like the way you look.’

  Something died inside her. ‘Well, I can’t do much about that,’ she mumbled, glancing towards the man who’d asked her to dance. ‘ He didn’t seem to find me repulsive.’

  Rocco’s dark jaw tensed and the expression in his eyes was menacing. ‘Call me old-fashioned,’ he growled, ‘but I don’t want my wife to be considered an object of lust by other men.’

  ‘Well, you don’t seem to want me, so I don’t understand the problem.’

  Muttering something that she didn’t catch, he closed his hand round her wrist again and virtually dragged her from the dance floor to the stairs.

  Unaccustomed to walking in high heels, she almost twisted her ankle, and grabbed at his arm to save herself. ‘Slow down, will you? I can’t walk this fast in these shoes,’ she gasped.

  He shot her a glance that was blisteringly unsympathetic. ‘Then perhaps you should have worn something more suitable.’

  ‘What could be more suitable for a nightclub than killer heels?’

  ‘You should have worn something flat.’

  ‘Why would I do that? I’ve spent my life wearing “something flat”, Rocco,’ she muttered, trying to regain her balance. ‘For once I wanted to see life from a different perspective. I don’t see why you care. Your height is one of your few redeeming features.’ She stumbled again, and he let out an exasperated sigh and scooped her into his arms, striding through the door and outside onto the pavement without so much as a sideways glance at the doorman.

  A flashbulb exploded in their faces, and Rocco cursed fluently in both English and Italian as he strode across to the limo that was waiting on the kerb. ‘That picture will be all over the papers tomorrow. My wife being carried out of a nightclub.’ He deposited her in the back seat and the door slammed shut behind them, shielding them from view. ‘They won’t know that you can’t walk in heels. They’ll assume you’re drunk.’

  ‘Why do you care? You’ve never cared what people think about you. Your reputation is confirmation of that.’

  ‘Incriminating pictures never go away, and I don’t want my son having to see pictures of his mother being carried out of a nightclub.’

  She collapsed back against the seat. ‘So we’re back to your son again? Don’t you ever give up?’

  ‘Obviously I was talking about the future,’ he said coldly, and she turned her head to look at him.

  ‘So what’s your son going to think when he sees all the pictures of you with other women? Is he going to think Way to go, Dad! Or is he going to think Stupid Mum, staying with that bastard?’

  Rocco inhaled sharply, and his gaze was icy and disapproving. ‘Bad language doesn’t suit you. It isn’t in your nature.’

  ‘How would you know what’s in my nature? You’ve never taken the trouble to find out. You just have baby-making sex with me and then leave. My personality is obviously of as little interest to you as the rest of our relationship.’

  There was a long, pulsing silence, and she was suddenly aware of the rapid escalation of tension in the car. The atmosphere cracked and snapped and Rocco stared at her, his breathing unsteady as his eyes dropped to her cleavage.

  Then he dragged his eyes away and thrust his jacket towards her again. ‘Put this on. And this time don’t argue.’

  ‘Why should I put it on? We’re not in the nightclub any more.’

  Like a storm cloud obliterating the light, his eyes darkened. ‘I have no desire for my chauffeur and bodyguard to become intimately acquainted with your body.’ His eyes slid back to her long, slender legs, and for a moment he seemed to have trouble speaking. Then he gritted his teeth and looked away. ‘You don’t look like a respectable married woman.’ His voice was hoarse, and she frowned for a moment.

  A respectable married woman?

  ‘Well, obviously I didn’t want to look like a respectable married woman when I dressed to go to the nightclub,’ she said, struggling to keep her tone reasonable and measured. ‘I would have looked completely out of place. I’ve never looked sexy before, and I wanted to look sexy.’

  He ran a hand over his face, apparently having trouble concentrating on the conversation. ‘Why would you need to look sexy?’

  ‘What sort of a question is that? Because I want you to find me attractive! I even chose new underwear—look.’

  On impulse, she lifted her skirt several inches and had the satisfaction of seeing something dark and dangerous flare in his eyes before he inhaled sharply. ‘Dio, what do you think you’re doing?’ His voice strangled, he leaned forward and hit a button, closing the screen between them and the driver.

  ‘Showing you my new underwear.’ Trying to get some sort of reaction from him.

  His gaze lifted to hers, his eyes burning hot. ‘Francesca—’

  If the clothes didn’t do it then maybe the underwear would, she thought, deciding to go for broke. With an unconsciously sensuous movement, she wriggled out of the stretchy short skirt, revealing black lacy pants and suspenders.

  He stared at her in blatant shock, his powerful body unnaturally still.

  ‘Francesca—you can’t—’ He broke off and swore softly, and then jabbed his fingers through his hair. ‘You have to stop this. You have to stop this now.’

  ‘Stop what?’ Acting on an instinct that was entirely new to her, she pulled off her top.

  Rocco’s gaze transferred itself to the rise and fall of her full breasts, barely contained inside the filmy black bra. He murmured something hoarse in Italian, and then switched back to English. ‘You can’t—’ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. ‘I don’t think—’ Struggling to compose a coherent sentence, he gave up on words and hauled her across his lap.

  His mouth came down on hers with determined force, and excitement exploded inside her. She felt the rough slide of his hands in her hair, felt his fingers dig into her scalp as he held her head to allow himself full access to her mouth. The kiss went on and on, until her world was spinning and her body was throbbing with desperation. Until she’d forgotten where they were and who they were. They were biting, gasping, feasting on each other, and then she felt his hands drop from her head to cup her bottom—heard his hoarse groan of masculine appreciation as he encountered warm female flesh.

  It was out of control and desperate, and his hands gripped and guided, positioning her to his satisfaction, and then she felt the insistent probe of skilled fingers as he sought out the most intimate part of her. His touch was so maddeningly good that she couldn’t hold back a gasp of excitement. She writhed against his hands, their mouths still locked in a fierce kiss, his body pumped up and hard under hers as they drove each other frantic.

  Chessie forgot they were in the car. Everything was focused on the physical demands of their bodies, and suddenly she felt a desperate need for satisfaction. Driven by a force that she didn’t recognise, she slid her hands down his body and fumbled frantically with his zip, feeling the thickness of his arousal straining against the soft fabric of his trousers.

  Sobbing his name against his lips, she finally managed to free him, and then wriggled her hips to bring herself closer.

  Without breaking the kiss Rocco lifted her in a smooth, easy movement and positioned her above him. Then he steadied her writhing hips with his strong hands and ground into her with a fierce thrust that brought a cry to her lips and a harsh groan to his.

  She moved by instinct, her hair falling forward, her tongue meeting the seduction of his, as their frantic, rhythmic movements drove them to the borders of sanity.

  When they finally exploded it was at
the same time, and she gasped his name as her body contracted round the rhythmic thrust of his.

  And still he didn’t release her, holding her hips with his hands and her mouth with his until the vicious pulse of his body finally ceased.

  Finally she lifted her head, and they both dragged in much needed air.

  ‘Rocco—’ Her voice shaking with emotion, overwhelmed by what they’d both shared, Chessie lowered her mouth to his again, this time in a gentle kiss that acknowledged the depth of their intimacy. For a moment he didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, his thick, dark lashes brushing his bronzed cheeks, the line of his jaw darkened by stubble.

  Finally he controlled his breathing sufficiently to speak. ‘I was rough.’ His voice was low and very male. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  She felt her stomach shift. ‘No.’ She spoke the words softly. ‘It was incredible.’

  He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Dio, I can’t believe we just did that.’

  ‘What’s wrong with what we just did?’

  ‘We had sex in the back of my car.’ As if suddenly acknowledging the implication of his own words, he lifted her away from him and deposited her on the seat. In a few swift movements he adjusted his clothing, and then glanced towards her with a dark expression in his eyes. ‘Get dressed.’

  ‘We’re married, Rocco! What’s wrong with—?’

  ‘Get dressed!’

  Why was he so angry? He hadn’t been able to resist her, and surely that was a good thing? It meant that there was hope for their marriage. It meant he found her sexy—that their marriage wasn’t all about making babies.

  ‘You’re incredibly prudish for a man with such a shocking reputation with women.’ Confused, and still weak from the intensity of their lovemaking, Chessie wriggled back into her skirt and top and gave her hair a shake. ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Like someone’s extremely hot date,’ he growled, and she was about to smile and thank him for the compliment when she registered the simmering anger in his eyes. Clearly the comment hadn’t been intended as a compliment.

  ‘You just lost control,’ she pointed out in a shaky voice, pushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘So don’t tell me that you don’t like the way I look.’