by Nicola Marsh
She’d always loved the rain as a kid, had spent hours in it, jumping in puddles and making mud pies and twirling in it. Her mum hadn’t cared. The more time she’d spent outside, the better, so Sharon could concentrate on her latest man rather than acknowledge a daughter she wished never had existed.
And it was days like this, when the rain brought the memories flooding back, that she wondered why her mum had her in the first place.
‘Whatever’s putting that look on your face, stop thinking about it right now or else.’
Forcing a brittle smile, she tilted her head up to look at him.
‘Or else what?’
He leaned into her space, his face temptingly close to hers.
‘You want to test me?’
Oh, she wanted to do many things with him, testing the least of them.
Pretending to frown, she jabbed him in the chest. ‘You don’t scare me, big bad Luca Petrelli.’
‘No? We’ll see about that.’
With a faux growl he lunged at her and she squealed, darting off the path and into the rain.
‘Be afraid, be very afraid,’ he said, slowing his pace so she remained an arm’s length in front of him as she fled, laughing so hard her lungs hurt, eventually stopping and clutching her belly.
‘Truce,’ she gasped, doubled over, her laughter easing as he caught her, wrapped his arms around her from behind and cradled her against him.
‘You think I’ll let you get off that easy?’
He spun her around to face him as the last of her giggles faded away, only to be replaced by something much more breath-snatching.
Intense, overwhelming desire.
Raindrops clung to his eyelashes, framing his eyes in crystals, illuminating them and making her want to look into them for ever. And she could’ve sworn steam rose from between their bodies, their drenched clothes drying from the incredible heat generated between them.
‘You can’t dare me and get off lightly.’
‘Ooh … I’m scared.’
Her shaky laugh faded as his hungry gaze dropped to her lips.
‘You should be.’
Before she could respond he swooped in and kissed her. Correction, devoured her, his lips crushing hers in a mind-altering, soul-destroying kiss that changed everything.
She clung to him, her arms wrapped around him in a vice, needing an anchor in a world spinning dangerously out of control.
His tongue danced with hers, a sinuous samba of pleasure as his hands strummed her back, making her ache for more.
All her previous protestations that this thing between them wouldn’t go any further evaporated in the steamy summer shower, for nothing was more certain than this kiss was not the end.
It was merely a beginning.
The door to the apartment crashed open as they tumbled through it, mouths melded, hands frantic, oblivious to everything bar quenching their hunger for each other.
Charli couldn’t remember the five-minute drive from the museum to the apartment, couldn’t remember the itinerary for this afternoon, couldn’t remember anything but how Luca tasted and smelled and felt.
He pushed her up against the wall and kicked the door shut, his body heat warming her better than a hot shower.
‘Better get you out of these wet clothes,’ he murmured in her ear, nipping the lobe, sucking it into his mouth and tonguing it ‘til she groaned.
‘Can’t wait that long,’ she gasped out, popping the button on his jeans and sliding the zip down in one fluid movement.
He stilled and she inwardly screamed, No, no, no, don’t you dare stop.
Raising his head, he looked her straight in the eye. ‘You sure you want this?’
‘Does this answer your question?’
Sliding her hands under the waistband of his jeans, she eased them down over his hips and touched her pelvis to his.
He groaned. ‘No regrets afterwards. No second-guessing. No—’
‘You talk too much.’
She kissed him, showing him exactly how much she wanted this.
Now.
Thankfully, he shelved his gallantry and went for it, tugging on zips and popping buttons and ripping a camisole along the way to getting her naked.
‘Bedroom,’ he muttered, shucking his jeans and jocks in a co-ordinated move that would put a stripper to shame, and managing to protect himself without breaking lip contact.
‘Here. Now.’
She wrapped a leg around his thigh and her arms around his neck, whimpering when he lifted her waist, rubbed along her moist core once, twice, before sliding in to the hilt.
She should’ve questioned the sanity of this, should’ve had some reservations, should’ve done a thousand and one things not involving getting hot, naked and sweaty with Luca Petrelli but she’d lost the will to think when he’d kissed her in the rain. And had no intention of getting rational now.
As he thrust into her, harder and deeper and faster, driving her closer to the edge, driving her insane with wanting him, she gave over to the heat spiralling from the inside out, the growing tension, the exquisite pleasure bordering on pain as he drove her higher.
She plunged over the edge with a scream, burying her face in the crook of his neck, biting down on his shoulder.
He roared, driving hard one last time before shattering along with her.
Stunned and sated she clung to him, her head lolling back against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring him inside her.
She didn’t want this intimacy to end, didn’t want to deal with the aftermath or the inevitable awkwardness.
With the few times she’d had sex in the past, she’d quickly dressed and exited, not wanting to build false hopes; the guys she’d briefly dated hadn’t come close to what she’d been looking for.
This time, there was no escape.
‘Stop thinking so much,’ he said, lifting his head off her shoulder, his crooked grin slamming into her heart with the force of an electric-guitar rip.
Her heart?
Hell.
‘I’m not.’
‘Yeah?’
He massaged her temple, his pressure so light it bordered on sensual. ‘I can feel those cogs turning.’
‘Only one thing for it, then,’ she said, hating how her voice quivered, hating how her well-protected heart trembled more. ‘Distract me.’
‘My pleasure.’
And as he carried her to the shower, followed by the bed much later, he did.
Over and over again. All afternoon.
CHAPTER NINE
CHARLI dealt in cold, hard facts.
At work she double-checked travel itineraries, tour dates, stage bookings, launch parties, security staff, ensuring everything ran smoothly and leaving no room for mistakes.
So what the hell was her excuse for the monumental mistake she’d just made?
As Luca rolled over in bed, propped on an elbow and grinned, she was looking straight at him.
The white sheet draped over his waist, tangled in his legs, leaving him deliciously naked from the waist up, his beautiful bronze torso scoured with nail marks.
God, she’d been mad for him. Insatiable. Unable to get enough. How many times had they made love since he’d taken her up against the wall? Three? Five? More?
She’d lost count after her first three screaming orgasms, had been completely and delightfully out of it.
Then in the bathtub, after he’d lathered handmade lavender soap all over her body, massaged her scalp until she’d whimpered and toyed with her until she’d orgasmed—three times in a row—she’d been mindless and she’d made her mistake.
When he’d wrapped a fluffy bath towel around her, scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bed, laid her on it, unwrapped her like the best present he’d ever received and made mad, passionate love to her, she’d tipped over the edge. And not just metaphorically.
Before the bathtub, they’d had sex.
Afterwards, they’d made love and for he
r that was a huge distinction. And a huge mistake.
She’d let him in, into a place in her heart no one ever ventured, and it terrified her.
It hadn’t registered at the time or later, when they’d curled up together and passed out for a good two hours, but now …
‘Oh-oh. You’ve got that look.’
She nibbled on her bottom lip, shuffling from one foot to another, wondering how fast she could do a runner.
‘What look?’
‘The old now-that-the-fun’s-over-how-fast-can-I-get-away? look.’
Damn, he was good.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Considering they were sharing this apartment, where could she run to anyway?
She padded over to the bed, remained standing. If she sat and he reached for her again, she doubted she’d have the will power to resist.
‘Think I’ll go for a walk.’
His endearingly crooked smile faded. ‘Now?’
‘Yeah, clear my head.’
He sat up, all trace of teasing gone.
‘What’s wrong?’
Inwardly wincing, she took a deep breath and settled for the direct approach.
‘This afternoon was incredible but we should concentrate on work for the rest of the tour.’
Swiping a hand over his face didn’t erase the tension. ‘We should, huh?’
She blushed and shuffled her feet. ‘Yeah, it’s for the best. We’re adults, we can continue working together, what just happened shouldn’t be a problem.’
But there was a problem, a big one, for the guy she’d let creep under her guard, the guy she’d just made love to many times, the guy she thought was noble and charming and deeper than she first thought, was now staring at her as if she’d tarnished the incredible afternoon they’d shared.
She stood there, wringing her hands until she realised what she was doing and tucked them into the robe’s deep pockets, waiting for him to say something, anything, to make this situation better.
For once, the guy who hadn’t shut up since they’d met remained scarily silent, a frown slashing his brow, his sensual lips pinched.
It wasn’t as if there was any chance of a future for them so this was for the best. The second she’d realised she’d made love was the second she knew Luca had broached her carefully erected defences. She had to shut him out. She had to. A repeat of this afternoon would only lead to one thing: a one-way trip down heartbreak highway.
‘I think it’s for the best.’
‘You’re right.’
She quickly averted her gaze as he stood and wrapped the top sheet around his waist. Not that she hadn’t already seen everything and, boy, had it been impressive.
Not a good thought at this stage of proceedings because her face flushed at the memory, weakening her resolve.
If he were a different guy, if she were a stronger girl … what would it be like to take a chance on a real relationship with a guy like Luca?
‘Yeah, we need to concentrate on work.’ He hitched the sheet higher and padded towards the bathroom. ‘That’s the great thing about flings. Once it’s out of your system it’s easy to get back to the important stuff.’
She froze, her deliberate blasé act splintering into a million painful fragments that lodged in her heart and drove home the insidious, unwelcome truth.
That while she’d fallen for him during their deliriously special, life-altering encounter a few hours earlier, he’d seen it as nothing more than a fling.
And all the rationale in the world urging her to push him away before he got any closer counted for nothing in the face of his callous indifference.
Luca went through the process of showering and dressing on autopilot. He shaved like a robot, nicking under his chin twice and not noticing until blood dripped into the basin. Watching it trickle down the side and slide into the hole, he wondered if it was a sign.
Thanks to his stupidity, his life could be down the plughole too.
He’d labelled what they’d shared as a fling …
Slamming a fist into the wall, he barely registered the pain. Could he be any more of a bastard?
He stared at his stricken face in the mirror, the shame in his eyes, the worry lines that had sprung up almost instantaneously. He never wanted to get emotionally involved with anyone, had taken great steps to ensure it wouldn’t happen over the years.
Then Charli had come along, creeping under his guard, making him mad with wanting her. And he’d had her, over and over again … What had happened in that bathtub … Just thinking about it made him hard and he turned away from the mirror in disgust. He had more important things to worry about right now than his libido.
Like how he could make it up to Charli.
She’d caught him off guard, giving him the brush-off after the amazing afternoon they’d had. They’d connected on so many levels, getting physical merely cemented what he knew: they were great together.
He’d had it all worked out in his head: spend the rest of his time here burning up the sheets together, having fun together, enjoying it while it lasted. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected her to give him the ‘thanks but no thanks’ speech before their passion had barely cooled.
He’d been surprised, rattled and increasingly annoyed in that order, resulting in that throwaway remark about flings and getting this thing between them out of their systems.
He should’ve been happy to re-establish the status quo, to ensure there were no feelings involved, to clear up any possible misconceptions that what they’d shared had been nothing but steamy sex.
But he’d seen the hurt in her eyes and had instantly wished he could erase those few minutes and go back to the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms.
Logically, what had happened was for the best.
So how could he explain away the uncharacteristic twinge of remorse insisting it was anything but?
* * *
Charli did a last-minute check on her to-do list as Luca slid into the driver’s seat to drive to a nearby winery where Storm was doing a twilight concert.
Not that she needed to. She’d checked the list a hundred times already, anything to keep her mind off the disastrous way the best afternoon of her life had ended.
When Luca had come out of the bathroom he’d been business as usual, acting as if their afternoon of passion and the fallout had never happened.
She should’ve been glad. They had a ton of work to do before the ‘Storming the Vines’ concert tonight, a welcome distraction from the underlying awkwardness between them, yet between making calls to the winery and jotting down last-minute to-do lists she snuck surreptitious peeks at him, wishing things could be different before mentally kicking herself.
If anything, the aftermath of their blissful afternoon had reinforced she’d be a fool to let him creep under her guard.
As Luca eased the car out of the car park of the apartments, the images of a few hours ago slammed into her memory: unable to keep their hands off each other in the car, practically falling up the steps, fumbling with the door key, flinging the door open to tumble into each other’s arms.
She’d wanted him so badly, had been mad for him. A madness that had bubbled away under the surface all afternoon, a madness that resulted in her feeling like this. Confused. Dazed. Torn. For while she could logically tell herself she could never fall for a guy like him, what if it was already too late?
She risked a quick glance at his profile, her heart turning over. Yep, no doubt about it. For all her self-talk and rational arguments, she was in serious danger of falling for a guy guaranteed to break her heavily guarded heart.
‘Concert itinerary all set?’
‘Yeah, ready to go,’ she said, the conversation petering out that quickly.
She hated this, hated how awkward they’d become around each other when a few hours ago they’d been closeted in intimacy that shut out the rest of the world, cocooning them in a fantasy.
Sadly, fantasies were
just that—make-believe, daydreams—and she should know better than anyone that all the wishing in the world didn’t bring you what you wanted most.
She’d tried growing up, boy, had she tried: wishing for a mum to love her, a nice place to live, a room that didn’t have mould on the cornices and roaches scuttling the floor at night.
Wishing got her nowhere, which was why she made things happen. Pity she couldn’t make the sparks and fun and heat they’d shared a few hours ago return, without the fear of her falling harder and minus a guy who viewed her as just another fling.
‘Look, Charli, about before—’
‘Don’t worry about it, all dealt with, moving on.’
‘Moving on?’
‘Concentrating on the important stuff, like finishing this country tour and gearing up for the Melbourne show next week.’
‘And us?’
Her silence spoke volumes and he indicated, pulled off the highway, spraying gravel as he braked.
‘I hate this.’
He thumped the steering wheel, a frustration she understood all too well radiating off him.
Swiping a hand over his face, he swivelled towards her. ‘We were getting along really well and now you can barely look at me.’
Not for the reason he thought. She wasn’t angry about his flippant fling comment. No, the reason she couldn’t look at him was for fear he’d see right through her, would know that she’d allowed him into her heart as well as her body.
For a few incredible days she’d had a glimpse of what it was like to be wanted by a man, to be lavished with attention, to be on the receiving end of genuine charm. And she’d revelled in it, had blossomed into a woman confident in her appeal, a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to get it, a woman who had incredible, mind-altering afternoon sex with a man she’d known for less than a week.
A woman who faced her fear and did it anyway. So why was she acting like a coward now?
‘It’s not you. I just don’t know what to say.’
He captured her hand and the sizzle of heat surprised her. She thought it might have waned after they consummated their relationship; if anything, the buzz between them had intensified.
‘Maybe we don’t have to say anything. Maybe we try and go back to how things were before we, uh … lost the plot.’