There was silence from his usually loquacious brother. Dom had fallen in love in college, and that one, brief lapse in his vigilance served as a constant reminder to Dom that all women had the potential to tempt any of the Moretti men.
“I don’t know what I fear. Just be careful, Marco. This is the year that everything will change. We have worked hard to get to this point. We are launching the revamped Vallerio model. You will surpass the Gran Prix record for most wins….”
“I am aware of that. Buona notte, Dom.”
“Buona notte, Marco.”
He hung up the phone, thinking of his oldest brother. Antonio often complained that Dominic needed to get laid so that the old boy would relax. But Marco suspected that Dominic’s heart was the most vulnerable of all of the Moretti men.
“Marco?”
“Coming, mi’angela.”
A warm, gentle breeze stirred the air around the balcony as he approached Virginia. Her hair lifted in the wind and for a minute it seemed as if she were part of the night. As if this was the only place she could exist. Almost as if she were a fantasy. But she was a flesh-and-blood woman, as he’d ascertained by kissing her and holding her in his arms.
“I thought you’d changed your mind,” she said.
“Not at all. I just wanted to make sure I had everything perfect,” he said, handing her the glass of chilled champagne.
“Is this part of the charm you promised to show me earlier?”
“Do you think it is?”
She laughed, and the sound was like music on the wind. He closed his eyes and let the worries that his brother always reminded him of disappear. For tonight he was nothing more than a winning driver with a beautiful woman.
“I’m not so sure.”
He arched one eyebrow at her. “What will it take to convince you?”
“I’m reserving judgment until morning.”
He handed her the champagne flute, which she took.
“To your victory on the track today,” she said.
He tapped the lip of his glass against hers. “Grazie.”
He kept eye contact with her as he took a sip of the sparkling wine.
“To mysteriously beautiful women,” he said, lifting his glass toward her.
“Grazie,” she said with a shy smile. “But I’m not beautiful.”
“Let me look again,” he said.
She stood still, a hesitant, almost fragile smile on her face as he stared at her features. Her wide brown eyes seemed luminous and filled with secrets. The thick eyelashes that surrounded them and the light dash of makeup on her lids made them look exotic.
Her high cheekbones and creamy skin were next. He lifted his free hand and traced the line of her brow and then down the side of her face. Her nose was thin and long, marking the elegance of her face, but it was her mouth that entranced him.
Her upper lip was a bit fuller than the bottom one, and both were rosy red and so soft to his touch. He ran his thumb over her mouth, tracing the bow at the top and then stroking her bottom lip.
“I see nothing to change my opinion,” he said.
“Maybe in your eyes I’m beautiful, but I promise you other men don’t see me that way,” she said.
“The eyes of other men don’t matter, mio dolce.”
“No, they don’t…I just…I’ve never done this before,” she said suddenly, her words coming out in a rush.
“Come back to a man’s apartment?” he asked, unable to help feeling a bit honored and possessive of the fact that he was the first man she’d felt this strongly attracted to.
And he couldn’t deny the attraction between them. He hoped she’d never know how much he wanted her and how much power that gave her over him. He needed her in ways he was only beginning to realize.
“Yes…I’m a bit nervous.”
“It’s not too late to leave. We can finish our drinks and I can take you back to your hotel.”
Virginia realized that Marco was making very sure she couldn’t say he coerced her into anything. Or perhaps he was just being a gentleman. What did it say about her that her first thought was that he was protecting himself?
But there was little he could do to protect himself against her. She wanted nothing more than this night in his arms—and his sperm.
She felt cold and calculating, thinking the words. She knew that every night millions of people had one-night stands and it meant nothing.
But she didn’t. She had been pretty sheltered all of her life. After being told early on that love and romance were not in the cards for her, she’d become determined to find a way to make her romantic dreams come true.
She knew that her motivation for being here was breaking the Moretti curse. But when he’d described her just a moment ago, talked about a beauty she just couldn’t see when she looked in a mirror, she felt as if this encounter meant more than she knew.
She felt as if Marco wasn’t just the means to an end. That he wasn’t just another victim of a long ago, bitter love feud between their families…felt as if he could be the man who would make her fall in love with him.
And love for Festa women wasn’t a good thing.
“Virginia?”
She shook her head to clear it. Glanced up at the moon and gathered the strength she needed to forget about consequences and right and wrong. For this one night, she wanted to just enjoy the moment with this man.
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
He smiled at her, and she realized just what true male beauty was. It was his smile when he looked at her.
“Are we going to just stand here and wait for sunrise?” she asked.
“Not at all. I thought we could sit in the hot tub and relax. Enjoy the champagne and the rest of the evening.”
The warmth of his hand on the center of her back and the low thrum of the hot tub located on the end of the balcony settled her nerves. She let go of all the planning and concentrated on the fact that she was here with a charming and sexy man.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“There’s a changing room over there stocked with robes,” Marco said, his voice deep and dark in the moonlit night. He gestured to the small building next to the tub.
Having spent most of her adult life waiting for this exact moment, she knew it was time for her to act. But action was the one thing that had always scared her. Her grandmother had loved Lorenzo Moretti and that single act had completely ruined Cassia’s life.
Perhaps sensing her unease, Marco said, “Do you know about the stars?”
“What?”
“The stories of the different stars and why the constellations fill the sky,” he said. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he led her to a double lounge chair and gestured for her to sit down.
She did, and Marco sat down next to her. He put his arm around her shoulder and shifted until she was lying next to him with her head on his shoulder.
She looked at him and knew without a doubt that he had sensed her keyed-up nerves. And she wondered if this was a sign from the universe that she should give up on her plan. Was there a side effect she’d missed when she’d determined the way to break the curse on their families was by getting pregnant with Marco’s child?
“The sky is different here,” Marco said. “In the Northern Hemisphere, where we both live, you can never see the Southern Cross.”
She stopped worrying about seduction and relaxed against him. “I had heard that. Where is the Southern Cross?”
He pointed at the sky. “Right there…do you see it?”
Her gaze followed the line of his arm, and she saw four stars in a diamond shape in the sky. The Southern Cross. “Does it have a legend with it, like Orion or Sirius?”
“Not really. Because it is visible only from the Southern Hemisphere, we have no Greek or Roman legends associated with it.”
“What is that constellation?” she asked pointing to another one.
“That is Leo. Egyptian priests used to be able to predict when the
Nile would flood based on its position in the sky.”
He talked about other constellations and she began to see beyond the international celebrity race car driver to the man beneath. He was used to moving in a world of privilege and wealth, yet tonight he was just a man.
“How did you become interested in stars?”
“My father. He isn’t into racing or cars…not the way a Moretti should be.” He turned on the lounge chair so that he was leaning over her. “But he loves legends and the past…he has spent a lot of his life reading about stories of old.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“In San Giuliano Milanese. It’s where our family home is.”
“Are you close to your parents?” she asked.
“In some ways. I’ve always shared a love of the night sky with my father. When I was younger, most of my time alone with him was spent outside at night, looking through the lens of his telescope.”
Being an only child, she’d had too much time alone with her mother, who had been very sad most of the time.
“Why didn’t your father like cars?” she asked. She knew that Giovanni Moretti was rumored to have been too easygoing to run the big automotive company. That he wasn’t interested in business…only in making love to his wife.
“He liked them, he just loved my mother more. So business didn’t hold his interest.”
“Yet, it does hold yours,” she said.
“Tonight I can see why my father was distracted,” Marco said.
She thought she saw surprise in his eyes as he revealed that, but he recovered quickly, leaning in close to kiss her. His kiss was soft and slow, one of seduction rather than full-out passion.
He swept his hand down the side of her body, un-erringly finding the zipper in the side of her dress. Instead of unfastening it, he simply traced his finger over the seam.
His mouth moved along her jawline with small, nibbling kisses, then dipped lower to caress the length of her neck. She shifted in his arms, trying to bring her body into full contact with his as he continued to tease her.
Her breasts felt sensitive and the skin of her arm beaded with goose bumps as he continued to move his hand over her body. She wanted more.
Marco had always had an innate gift for seducing women. Dom had suggested it was because he was Italian and wooing women had been bred into him, but Marco thought it was more than that. He’d never been callous in his seductions and he’d walked away from women who he knew would regret having made love to him when they woke in the morning.
But he couldn’t walk away from Virginia. He surprised himself with the depth of the need he had for her. Still, if he made this about the physical, then his emotions would recede and she would be nothing more than a passionate memory for him to look back on, years from now.
The rich darkness of her hair contrasted with the creamy whiteness of her skin. He drew down the zipper at the side of her body and watched as the sky-blue material gaped open. He slipped his hand under the fabric and touched her skin.
Her breath caught and she shifted in his arms, turning on her side so they were now facing each other. He reached between them and drew her hands up to the first button on his shirt.
Staring into her wide, chocolate-colored eyes, he saw the shyness that was so much a part of her melt away as her fingers brushed against his chest.
Blood rushed through his veins, pooling in his groin and hardening him as she started unbuttoning his shirt. Her fingers were cool against his skin as she worked her way down his body. When she finished unbuttoning the shirt she pushed it open and he shrugged out of it.
He growled when she leaned forward to brush kisses against his chest. Her lips were soft and not shy as she explored his torso, and he felt the edge of her teeth graze his pecs.
He watched her, his eyes narrowing and his pants feeling damned uncomfortable. Her tongue darted out and brushed his nipple. He canted his hips forward and put his hand on the back of her head, urging her to stay where she was.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, one finger tracing over the scar under his left nipple.
“Tony pushed me out of the fig tree in the backyard when I was eight and I landed on a hoe that the gardener had left lying on the ground.”
“Did it hurt?” she asked. She braced one hand on his chest as she leaned over him.
He shifted under her and lifted her in his arms so that she straddled him. He leaned up and kissed her lips. “At the time it hurt very much.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning down to lave the spot with her tongue. “I have a scar, too.”
“Where?” he asked.
She blushed and then shrugged her shoulders, pulling her right arm out of the dress. The bodice loosened and the other sleeve slid down her left arm until the dress pooled at her waist. She wore those strapless bra cups that were clear in color. He could see all of her breasts and yet as he reached up to touch them, he felt only fabric and not the sweetness of her flesh.
“The scar isn’t on my boobs,” she said, with a little laugh. “No?”
“No,” she said. “It’s here.”
She pointed to her right side an inch below her breasts. It was long, almost two inches, and had faded with time. “How did you get this?” he asked, stroking a finger down the length of it. She shivered in his arms and rocked against him. His erection twitched against her core.
“Trying to climb into the window of our house. My mom locked the keys inside.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He lifted his hips to tip her body toward him. He found the scar with his lips and rubbed his hands over her naked back, enjoying the feel of this warm woman in his arms.
She put her hands on his shoulders and eased her way down his chest. She traced the muscles of his abdomen and then slowly made her way lower. He could feel his heartbeat in his erection and he knew he was going to lose control if he didn’t slow things down.
But another part of him wanted to just sit back and let her have her way with him. When she reached the edge of his pants, she stopped and glanced up his body to his face.
Her hand brushed over his straining length. He removed the bra she still wore and then lifted her up so that her nipples brushed his chest.
“Hmm…that feels so good,” she said.
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
Blood roared in his ears. He was so hard, so full right now that he needed to be inside of her body. But he had to take care of details first.
“Cara mia, I hate to ask this, but are you on the pill?”
She pulled back for a second. “I’m…yes.”
“You are taking the pill?” he asked.
She nodded. “And I don’t have anything else you need to worry about. What about you?”
“I’m clean.”
“Good,” she said.
He pulled her closer and kissed her until she relaxed. Then, impatient with the fabric of her dress, he shoved it up to her waist. He caressed her creamy thighs. God, she was soft. She moaned as he neared her center and then sighed when he brushed his fingertips across the crotch of her panties.
The lace was warm and wet. He slipped one finger under the material and hesitated for a second, looking up into her eyes.
They were heavy-lidded. She bit down on her lower lip and he felt the minute movements of her hips as she tried to move his touch where she needed it.
He pushed the fabric of her panties aside and lightly traced the opening of her body. She was so ready for him. It was only the fact that he wanted to bring her to climax at least once before he entered her body that enabled him to keep his own needs in check.
She shifted against him and he entered her body with just the tip of one finger. He teased them both with a few short thrusts.
“Marco…” she said, her voice breathless and airy.
“Yes, mi’angela?”
“I need more.”
“Is this better?” he asked, pushing his finger deep inside of he
r.
“Yes,” she said. Her hips rocked against his finger for a few strokes before she once again needed more.
“Marco, please.”
He pulled his finger from her body and traced it around her pulsing center of her need. Her eyes widened and she moved frantically against him. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his cheek as she braced her hands on the back of the lounge chair.
He turned his head and drew one beaded nipple into his mouth, suckling her deeply as he plunged two fingers into her body. He kept his thumb on her center and worked his fingers until she threw her head back and called his name.
He felt her tighten around his fingers. She kept rocking against him for a few more seconds and then collapsed.
He tipped her head toward his so he could taste her mouth. He told himself to take it slowly, that Virginia wasn’t used to him. But one taste of her lips and he was out of control.
He kissed her and held her at his mercy, caressing her back and spine, scraping his nails down the line of her back down the indentation above her buttocks.
She closed her eyes and held her breath as he returned his fingers to one nipple. It was velvety compared to the satin smoothness of her breast. He brushed his finger back and forth until she bit her lower lip and shifted on his lap.
She moaned, a sweet sound that nearly did him in. He reached between them and unzipped his pants, freeing his erection. She cried out softly as he brushed the tip against her humid center.
She reached between them and touched him, her small hand engulfing the length as she shifted to put the tip inside her body.
He held her still with a hand on the small of her back. He had a lap full of woman, and he wanted Virginia more than he’d wanted any woman in a long time. Maintaining control was harder than it had ever been. Dangerous. He knew better than to let this mean anything more than a passionate encounter.
This was about the physical. One night together.
She rocked her hips, trying to take him deeper, and he knew the time for teasing was at an end.
“Marco?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you going to take me?” she asked.
“Do you want more?” he asked.
She leaned down and sucked his lower lip into her mouth, biting gently. “You know I do.”
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