by Sarah Morgan
He hesitated for just a moment and then moved his hips and entered her in a single, smooth thrust that joined them completely.
It had been so long.
The sudden intimacy over whelmed her and then he started to move and each powerful stroke felt shockingly delicious. All she was aware of was him, the intoxicating scent of him, the skilled touch of his fingers, the hard male pulse of his body. He didn’t take it slowly and she didn’t care. Frantic, desperate, she urged him faster and he drove his body into hers with ruthless, reckless hunger until the tingle and burn inside her grew into something that couldn’t be contained and her body exploded.
Her climax was shockingly intense and she heard his harsh groan and knew that her body had driven through his control and tipped him over the edge. He exploded inside her and her fingers dug hard into the slick muscle of his shoulders, clinging as they rode the storm, oblivious to everything around them.
Eventually the wildness eased and they lay for a moment, their bodies still joined and their minds still numb.
And then Marco rolled onto his back, drawing her against him. ‘That was incredible. You are incredible.’
Amy closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the after shocks to pass.
What had they done? What had she done?
For a moment she lay there, her body still weak and drugged from the after-effects of his lovemaking. ‘We shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Why not? We’re still married, tesoro. Sex is part of a relationship.’
‘We don’t have a relationship, Marco, not any more.’ More than a little confused, she sat up and absolutely felt the hot burn of his gaze on her body. Horribly self-conscious, she reached for her jumper and pulled it over her head. ‘Nothing has changed.’
It took him a moment to answer and he rubbed a hand over his face, as if forcing himself to concentrate. ‘You can’t truly believe that.’ His voice was soft and when he finally looked at her, his gaze was dark. ‘Everything has changed, amore.’
‘No, it hasn’t.’ She reached for her jeans and wriggled into them. ‘I— The sex was great, Marco, you know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that we no longer have a relationship.’
He lifted a brow in silent mockery. ‘A moment ago, when I was inside you, did that not feel as though we had a relationship?’
She felt her face turn scarlet. ‘Don’t talk like that.’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘How can you still be shy with me? You are the most complex, confusing woman I’ve ever met. You don’t mind indulging in hot, mindless sex but you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t pretend that nothing has changed between us, Amy. That would be foolish. And a waste of time. I’m not stupid and neither are you.’
She rose to her feet, unable to resist a sideways glance at his naked body. He was magnificent—his body lean and muscular, his stomach taut and flat, his olive skin liberally dusted with a pattern of dark hair that emphasised his virility and masculinity.
‘Marco, don’t do this. Please, don’t do this.’
He rose to his feet, completely unselfconscious. ‘You’ve lost weight.’ Ignoring her plea, he slid a hand around her waist and drew her against him. ‘But you’re still beautiful.’
Amy put a hand on his chest. ‘No.’
‘Yes,’ Marco purred softly, sliding his hands inside her jumper and smoothing her spine. ‘Let’s go upstairs to bed. This time we take more time. Lentamente. Gentilmente.’
Slow. Gentle.
Amy felt the smooth masculine tones connect with her insides. ‘That would just confuse things even more and I’m confused enough already.’
‘I am not at all confused.’ He brushed her hair away from her neck, lowered his head and delivered a lingering kiss to the base of her throat. ‘I am entirely clear about everything. And now we have the whole weekend ahead of us to make up for lost time.’
‘No!’ Dizzy from his touch, Amy gave him a push and forced herself to step backwards. ‘No, Marco! I meant what I said—nothing has changed. You’re not listening to me! I’m talking and you’re just not listening!’ Not trusting herself to be so close to him and not touch him, she walked over to the window and stared out into the darkness. Beyond the glass came the faint sound of the sea crashing onto the rocks below the house. ‘All right, so we had sex—good sex—but it doesn’t change the facts. We want different things. You still want a family and I still want a career.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He sounded unperturbed. ‘A career. You don’t love me enough, isn’t that right?’
‘That’s right.’ After what they’d just shared, she couldn’t look at him. ‘I don’t.’
‘And you always have sex with men that you have no feeling for, no? That is so typical of you, isn’t it, tesoro?’
How did he know so much about her when they’d spent so little time together? She forced herself to turn, noticing in a glance that he’d pulled on his trousers but his torso was still bare. ‘I can understand why you might read more into what just happened but, please, don’t. It really was just sex, Marco. And it wasn’t that surprising. The chemistry between us always led us into trouble.’
His gaze was brooding. ‘Talking of trouble—since you are still so set on following this career path and not having a family, we probably ought to talk about contraception.’
‘There’s no need. It won’t happen again.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the future,’ he said gently, reaching for his jumper, ‘I was talking about the past. We just had unprotected sex, amore. Do you want the morning-after pill? I have some in my bag.’
She froze. ‘No.’ Her mouth was so dry she could barely answer the question. ‘No, that won’t be necessary.’
‘Why not?’ He moved towards her, his eyes intent on her face. ‘You have decided that you will take your chances? If you become pregnant, you will have a family and abandon your ideas of a career? You are leaving the choice to fate perhaps?’
‘None of those things. There just isn’t any way I could get pregnant.’ She kept her tone casual, assuming that he’d take her comment to mean that it was the wrong time of the month, but he swore softly in Italian and his eyes darkened with anger.
Amy watched him, confused by his reaction. Only a moment ago he’d offered her contraception. Surely he wouldn’t want her to get pregnant, given the mess that their marriage was in?
So why did he look as though he wanted to put his fist through the window?
Marco ran out of the back door and onto the coast road. It was dark but he didn’t care because he knew the road as well as he knew his own kitchen and he needed to burn off his anger.
She’d turned down the morning-after pill.
There was no way she could get pregnant. Wasn’t that what she’d said?
So what did that mean? That she was already taking contraception?
They’d been apart for two years so there was only one reason why she would be using contraception.
Jealousy dug its claws in deep and he increased his speed, pounding along the road, ignoring the punch of the wind and the bite of the cold as he tried to outrun his demons.
Obviously it was as he’d first suspected.
She’d found someone else.
Was that why she’d been crying? Was that why Nick had encouraged him to find out more about her past? Was this man an ex-lover? Someone she’d known before she’d met him?
Marco pounded along the road, his mind full of questions.
Was this mystery man the reason she’d been so intent on ending their marriage?
He ran until the breath tore through his lungs and then he stopped, breathing heavily, forcing his mind to work.
This was Amy. Amy. Not any other woman. She wasn’t a woman to take a string of lovers. Despite the evidence, it didn’t fit with what he knew of her.
Amy would only indulge in a physical relationship with a man if she cared deeply.
But if she didn’t have another man, why was she using contraception?
She cared deeply. For him. After what they’d shared that afternoon, he knew that she was still in love with him. So why was she so intent on denying it?
Why did she want to end their marriage?
Amy lay on the bed with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, full of regrets. She should have kept her distance from Marco. She should have known that she wouldn’t be able to resist him.
If only she’d walked away from him the moment she’d felt the tension sizzling between them.
If only she had more self-control.
If only—the two most useless words in the human language.
The slam of the door downstairs announced that Marco was back from his run, but judging from the violence of the sound his temper hadn’t improved.
Hardly surprising perhaps, running in the freezing wind in the darkness.
Amy closed her eyes, feeling nothing but sympathy for him. Their impulsive lovemaking session had left her feeling equally confused and frustrated. That was what happened when you gave in to chemistry.
It produced complications.
It was some consolation that he had no more self-control than she did.
The door to her bedroom opened and she turned her head and saw him standing in the doorway, broad-shouldered and powerful. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and he’d clearly pushed himself to the limit physically.
His eyes glittered darkly and his mouth was set in a grim line. ‘Is there someone else?’
‘I’m sorry?’ The question was so surprising that she sat up instantly, her eyes wide. ‘What do you mean, someone else?’
‘It’s a plausible reason for you to end our marriage.’
‘Marco, I’ve told you why I ended our marriage. There isn’t anyone else in my life.’ And there never would be. She had nothing to offer any man.
‘So why are you taking contraception?’
‘I never said that I was—’ She broke off, realising too late that she’d revealed far too much yet again. How did people ever lie and cheat? She was hopeless, absolutely hopeless.
‘You said that there was absolutely no chance that you could possibly become pregnant.’
Her heart pounded against her chest. ‘It’s just not the right time of the month.’
‘Nature isn’t that predictable, as you and I both know. If you are truly this career person now, why would you want to risk having a baby?’ He strode into the room, his eyes fixed on her face. ‘I’ve been thinking about this, going through the facts, sifting through the options, and I’ve only come up with one possible explanation for the way you’re behaving. You don’t think you can become pregnant, is that right?’
She felt the colour drain from her face. ‘Marco…’
He watched her and nodded slowly. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You can’t have a baby.’
Amy shrank back on the bed, her arms around her knees like a child. ‘Go away, Marco.’ She was shivering again and the headache was back. ‘I want to be on my own.’
‘Well, that’s tough, because when you’re married there are two people involved.’ His voice soft, he sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘An honest woman makes a hopeless liar, Amy, and you are an honest woman. Since the day you told me you were leaving, nothing you have said has made sense.’
‘Marco, please—’
‘You are a mass of in consistencies. You keep telling me that you want a career and although you are undoubtedly an excellent doctor, it’s always been clear to me that what you really long for is a family. You say you don’t want children and yet I see you with them and you are warm and kind. And you say that you don’t love me but when we are together…’ he reached out and slid a hand under her jaw, gently insisting that she look at him ‘…you give everything, tesoro. What we shared earlier—that wasn’t sex, it was love.’
She sucked in a juddering breath. ‘Don’t do this. The truth is that none of the reasons matter. The end is the same. I can’t be with you.’
His thumb gently stroked her jaw. ‘We both know that is nonsense. We were meant to be together.’
‘No.’ Tears welled up and spilled onto her cheeks. ‘Don’t let’s have this conversation! I’ve already cried more today than in my whole life!’
‘Emotion is a good thing. Only the English treat emotion as if it were a dangerous animal.’ His faintly humourous analysis of her countrymen would have made her smile at any other time.
But she was a long way from smiling.
She wiped one cheek with the back of her hand. ‘Emotion gives you a headache.’
‘Cucciola mia.’
She sniffed and tried to ignore the insistent brush of his fingers on her face. ‘That’s what you called Michelle. I don’t even know what it means.’
‘Literally?’ He slid his hand behind her neck, leaned forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. Then he lifted his head and gave a slow smile. ‘It is a puppy.’
‘So now you’re calling me a dog?’
He laughed softly. ‘So now I finally see the Amy I used to know. For a long time she was afraid to come out, but I knew she was tucked away in there somewhere. I want to ask you something and I want an honest answer—probably the first one you’ve given me for a long time.’
‘I don’t want to talk about this.’
‘Shh…’ Amusement in his eyes, he pressed his fingers to her lips. ‘You need to stop arguing with me. It’s bad for you, amore, and it gives me indigestion. A good Italian wife should agree with everything her husband says.’
Her heart aching, she gave a wobbly smile. ‘I don’t think I’m a good Italian wife, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.’ Her smile faded. ‘I can’t do any of the things that a good Italian wife is supposed to do. For a start, I don’t even speak the language.’
‘This could be good! Most Italian men would kill to have a wife who couldn’t answer back!’ His eyes gleamed but this time she didn’t manage a smile in response. How could he be so good about it all? Did he understand what she was telling him?
‘You’re refusing to take me seriously.’
‘Sì, that’s right, I am.’ Suddenly his voice was deadly serious. ‘Because you are talking nonsense. What is this about? Who is this “good Italian wife”? I didn’t pick an Italian for my wife—I picked you.’
It was time to spell it out. ‘But I can’t have children, Marco. You’re right about that. I’m infertile.’ There. She’d said it. Finally, after two long years of anguish and misery, she’d said it. Such a small word for something so big.
There was a moment of silence and she saw a muscle flicker in his lean cheek but when he spoke his voice was calm and even. ‘I understand that. What I don’t understand is why this made you leave. Why would this have an impact on our marriage? Why didn’t you share it with me?’
‘Because I was afraid you’d say that it wouldn’t make a difference.’ She pulled away from him and hugged her knees tighter.
‘It doesn’t make a difference. A relationship starts with two people, amore. Later on more may be added but always it starts just with two.’
‘I know how much you want children.’
‘Look at me, Amy.’ His voice was firm and he nodded when she lifted her head. ‘That’s better. Yes, I would like children but I am not a child myself. I know that life doesn’t always give us what we want or plan for and being an adult is about making choices. When I asked you to marry me I made a choice, tesoro. You were my choice.’
She struggled with the tears again. ‘Pretty lousy choice.’
‘Certainly it’s true I would have preferred to have a wife who didn’t run away to a different continent for two years,’ he said mildly, ‘but you are back now and everything is sorted. That’s all that matters.’
‘How can you say th
at? Nothing is sorted.’
‘Belissima…’ His voice in finitely gentle, he cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. ‘You are determined to make life so complicated.’
‘You can’t pretend that this is nothing, Marco!’
‘No, I’m not going to do that. But neither am I going to sacrifice our relationship for it. And neither should you isolate yourself.’ He said something in Italian and she looked at him expectantly.
‘In English?’
He slid his fingers through her hair in an unmistakable gesture of affection. ‘I said that this didn’t happen to you, it happened to us. And now we will deal with it. There are lots of options.’
Unable to help herself, Amy leaned against his chest and felt his arms close around her. She felt his warmth, his strength and she closed her eyes for a moment, greedy for the comfort even though she knew it could only be temporary.
For her there were no options. None.
Marco locked the bathroom door securely and then crossed to the washbasin, his breathing unsteady as he struggled with the emotion that he’d been holding back.
Two years.
They’d wasted two years.
His jaw tensed and he gripped the edge of the basin so hard that his knuckles whitened.
When he’d finally realised the truth, it had taken all his self-control not to erupt with anger. But then he’d seen the torment in her eyes and realised that she’d made the decision to leave him based on a set of beliefs of which he had absolutely no understanding.
Was that what Nick had meant when he’d hinted that he should find out more about her past?
And what exactly was it in her past that made Amy so sure that their marriage couldn’t survive the blow of infertility? Why did she think there were no options?
Inhaling deeply, Marco turned on the taps and splashed his face with cold water.
‘Marco?’ Amy’s voice came from outside the bathroom, tentative and unsure. ‘Are you all right?’
Marco reached for a towel and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Was he all right? He was angry, frustrated and disappointed, but he knew that displaying those emotions wouldn’t help his cause.