"The final lesson is about to begin. Kiss me. Now,” Marco instructed and with a beautiful gentleness that surprised and warmed her, he edged himself to her moist center, tentative and teasing as he nudged at her slick folds.
"Now, Marco. Please?” Carly voiced her need.
He smiled down at her. “Patience, cara. A man needs to know his journey, before he starts."
Inch by delicious inch Marco entered her. Carly reveled in the feel of him, wanting him to fill her. Faster. Harder.
"At last,” Marco sighed and captured her lips. “I've waited a long time for this."
A lilting laughter slid from Carly. “A few days."
"It seems a lifetime."
Carly silently agreed. It did. For some unknown reason, she felt as if the past had dissolved; only now mattered. Only being with him, holding him to her. She felt cherished ... even thinking the word took her by surprise. It was not something she had felt before. Ever.
Marco was holding back, when what she wanted was him to bury himself in her, deeply, over and over, but at the same time, taking it slow so she could savor every single glorious second.
"You are Aphrodite, the temptress,” he said. “And I am definitely tempted. Your skin is silk and satin.” His voice was hoarse with need, and Carly witnessed unmasked desire etched across his face. His hands caressed her in ever-increasing circles, from her breasts, down the flat plane of her stomach, lower and lower, till he came to the junction of her thighs. He lathed a path from one aroused nipple to the other with the tip of his tongue. “You taste of the ocean and of passion, Carly Mason. I cannot wait. For two days your lushness has lured me. Now, we finish what we have started."
Speech died in Carly's throat as Marco took hungry possession of her mouth. She clasped at his shoulders and pulled him to her.
More. She wanted more.
Her body yearned for him, craved his touch, the taste of him. He was her drug. His lips plundered hers, devouring, taking everything she had, everything she willingly offered with an equal need, until she rocked in unison with him and the flames of desire overtook. Finally, Marco cried out her name and together they soared to a deep and total fruition.
* * * *
"Cara,” Marco's strident voice interrupted her slumber. She rolled over. This wasn't how it was meant to be—afterwards. She didn't want to wake up. She wanted to dream, to remember, to...
"Wake up."
Carly bolted upright, blinked several times and groaned as the morning light seared her barely awake brain. “What's the matter?"
"We have a problem.” Marco spoke so matter-of-factly goosebumps slithered up and down her arms, a prickling fear welling in the pit of her stomach.
Was this how morning afters started? What was he going to say? Sorry it was a mistake, can you please go to your own room. Carly looked about. She was in her own room. She didn't want to hear this and shimmied down the bed, yanking the cover up over her. “Not now Marco. I'm tired."
Marco's warm breath brushed across her the curve of her neck. “I'm sorry, cara mia, but we have to discuss this."
She pushed the corner of the sheet away from her face and looked up into his very somber expression. It didn't bode well. “What's got you so serious this early in the morning? Don't tell me you're not a morning person,” Carly teased. She knew she was babbling, but anything to stay the execution.
"Cara.” Hearing the gentle but insistent tone in his voice she sat up, careful to wrap the sheet about her. If it's over already, no need to let him get an eyeful she thought sourly.
"Protection."
She looked blank. “Protect ... oh my God."
"Even he can't help us. Are you?"
"Me?” she squeaked.
"Yes.” Gone were the passion-filled eyes, the twinkling glint of mischief.
She blustered. “Yes, of course.” And waved a dismissive hand at him. “Don't worry about it.” What were the chances? A one-off. Surely not?
Marco visibly relaxed and Carly tried to follow his lead. “It's my fault,” he said. “I could not hold back. I am a man. I should have had more sense. Next time..."
"Next time?"
"Si, like now, my sweet.” Marco grinned and glanced down his length. Her gaze followed. “Even now my body yearns for you sweet Carly."
"It does?” Oh, yeah, it sure did.
"But this time,” he said turning to the side table beside the bed and reaching for the foil. “This time we are prepared, together."
Carly had no time to reply, no time to think. Again she could only feel. Circled in his arms, he led her on a journey of slow, body tingling, mind-blowing lovemaking. A journey she never wanted to end, one she thought could never be repeated.
But it was. Over and over again.
Chapter 7
The end had arrived.
Marco lay beside her, asleep, his breathing regular and one arm slung possessively across her waist.
Four days had come and gone. Funny how a few days ago she wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. Now, she wasn't so sure.
As Marco turned toward her, his long lean frame rubbed against her bare skin and the tangled sheets fell away leaving him naked. Her eyes shuttered, blotting him out of view. She had to be strong. Get back to business.
But just as it had the last few days, his touch sent an unwavering heat threading through her veins, lighting a deep and intense need to be with him, to feel him inside her. Shutting her eyes couldn't drown out those feelings. They intensified every minute. It was as if his body was a current and sent a shaft of longing straight through her like an electric bolt.
Carly let out a heavy sigh, smothering the sound with her hand as a single tear trailed down her cheek. She swiped at it and rolled away from the tempting heat of the man beside her. She didn't want their time in paradise to end. She wanted it to go on—forever.
But forever didn't happen. Forever wasn't reality. It was impossible. She had a life. Marco had a life, though she still didn't know much about it.
Okay, so he had an old bike. He was Italian and his mother English. That summed up her entire knowledge of Marco Valente.
Just as you've kept your life a secret.
These four days had been like emotional foreplay, a temptation of what life...
No!
Carly gritted her teeth. She wouldn't go down that track. She had to remember her goals, her motivation.
Time wasn't infinite and despite the lovingly sensual reality that had catapulted her into another world, making her lie awake for hours, while he slept like a babe beside her, it had ended.
And that was that.
Easing herself up from the bed, she snatched up her toweling robe and put it on, yanking the belt tight around her. Perhaps if she felt something other than Marco, it would jolt her back to undeniable reality. She needed time alone. Time when Marco's body didn't tempt her every second. She was addicted to this man. He was her drug.
On silent feet, she padded outside. The morning was barely awake, the sky a rainbow of colors as the sun tipped over the thick green crest of the island and the tuis and fantails began their morning chorus. Leaning against the porch railing, Carly pulled the collar of her robe up around her neck. It might be the heart of summer, but she was frozen to the bone. Cold and confused. She rubbed at her arm, aware again of the stabbing pain of her laceration, the one she'd forgotten throughout the long, sensual night.
Mindlessly, she stared out to the horizon.
Seagulls dipped and dived in a circle off shore. They'd obviously found their breakfast. The tide was on the wane and a strip of dark, wet sand lay exposed—just like her heart Carly admitted wryly. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to cry. Refused to give in.
Oh, God. What was she to do?
Marco Valente was one sexy man. He was also the man she had, in four short days, come to love—totally and utterly, with a pure intent that shocked her to the core. This wasn't part of her life plan, part of her reality, but h
ad snuck up on her, taking her unaware.
"Carly?"
She didn't move, but her body registered Marco's presence as a heat pervaded her heart and she relived in a fraction of a second every moment of their four days.
"What are you doing outside? Come back to bed.” His hands warm and reassuring reached out to her shoulders and pulled her back gently so she leaned against his hard frame. He was aroused. Again. She couldn't help but smile. This man was so very blatant.
"We have time.” His breath fanned her cheek and she let her head drop back, wallowing in the scent of him. His tongue caressed her exposed neck eliciting a shiver from her. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, wanting and needing him. She turned and his arms enveloped her, crushing her to his length. Cradling her to his chest Marco carried her back to bed.
Carly didn't utter a sound. She wanted this—with a vengeance. Her time may be almost up, but she determined she would enjoy it to the absolute last second. She would ignore the warring words in her brain and the increasing fear rising in a wave of panic in her gut. A fear that reminded her of her past, one she never, ever wanted to recreate.
Why?
Because reality would catch up. Eventually.
And it did. Just as she knew it would.
* * * *
Carly lifted her gaze skyward, the whirring sound in the distance catching her attention and forcing her to face up to the present. She so desperately wanted to ignore the sound, believe it wasn't happening, but it was. It had to—in the end. The sound became louder until she had to admit the helicopter was about to arrive.
Paradise was dissolving.
"Cara.” Marco cradled her to him.
She would never get tired of his touch. Struggling to contain her grief, Carly mustered every last crumb of tangible strength and turned to him, pasting a smile on her face. “The helicopter is here.” Her voice was but a whisper as she stated the obvious. She filled her lungs with a deep, steadying breath. “It's time."
It was over. The words twisted and churned with tumultuous viciousness in her heart and her hands shook and knees began to buckle beneath her. Marco reached out to support her, but she flinched and jerked bodily away from him. She couldn't bare him to touch her. Not now that it was over.
His hands fell away and his expression turned frosty. Carly wanted to cry, no please, hold me, don't leave me. But she couldn't, wouldn't. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could utter a sound.
"So, this is it then?” she whispered, struggling to sound cheery while inside she cried silent tears, her words awkward and trite.
"It's been a pleasure."
"Pleasure,” she repeated parrot fashion. Her moist eyes caught his, drinking in as much as she could in the few minutes they had left. They were the bluest eyes she had ever seen and lightened and darkened with his mood. The hard planes of his bronzed cheeks and his killer smile sent a heady anticipation spiraling down her spine and made her hunger for his touch. The touch she had to deny.
She dragged her gaze away, suddenly taking intense interest in the sand splattered patio. “Yes, it was. Thank you."
* * * *
Thank you! All she says is thank you. Marco stiffened, forcing himself to retain an air of detachment. Without speaking, he escorted her to the waiting helicopter.
It was the same pilot who ferried them four days earlier. “Good holiday was it?"
Carly nodded, but Marco couldn't trust himself to speak and so remained mute. The pilot eyed them both and shrugged. Holding herself stiff, arms hugging her waist, Carly ignored him and seated herself and buckled in. The pilot went through procedures and within minutes they were off, leaving paradise behind.
For twelve, long drawn out minutes Carly refused to acknowledge he was even at her side and for the first time in his life, Marco found himself stymied. Damn it. He had his pride. He wouldn't beg.
Where was his control, his renowned ability to tackle the most difficult business acquisition?
She's not an acquisition.
No, but he wanted her. A lot.
"Would you care to have dinner with me tonight?"
"Dinner?"
"Yes, the meal in the evening,” he teased.
For a moment Marco thought she would say yes. Wanted her very much to, which surprised him. He hadn't realized how four days could change a man's thinking. But it had. He'd entered this deal with Carly for fun, a chance respite from his own hectic world of responsibilities and his mother's constant marriage prattle.
And now? Now ... well it was just dinner. That's all. Wasn't it?
"I don't think so,” she finally replied.
"No?"
"No,” she reiterated, her refusal curt. Marco wasn't used to begging, but as the helicopter began to land, he was filled with a sense of urgency, of unrequited need. “Another time then?"
"No. I can't.” Carly scrambled from her seat, but he grabbed her wrist just as she made for the exit.
"Can't or won't?"
"Take your pick. But the answer is still the same."
"Yet you shared many hours in my arms."
"That was then, Mr. Valente,” she said with a stiffness in her voice he hadn't heard for four days. “And this is now. Now, we go back to our lives. I go to work and you go ... wherever you want to."
As she shook him off, Marco realized with a jolt that even now, after days and nights together, neither of them really knew anything about the other, or had even offered that information.
Paradise Island had truly been a fantasy.
Grabbing her bag she delved into its depths. She turned to him and held out an envelope to him.
"What's that?"
"Payment."
"Porca miseria,” Marco swore. He closed the space between them. He easily towered over her. She tilted her head back, squinting as the sun shone in her eyes and raised a hand to shade her face, but he grabbed her wrist and she gasped. Did she feel the heat between them as he did?
"You think I want your money?"
"That's not what you said before we went. You agreed."
"Ah, but all that changed didn't it, cara. Your friends didn't come. We had time for ourselves, and ... sex. You hired me to play your gigolo, and now you toss me aside."
"But, the job ... the terms."
"Damn the job and its terms. This is about us."
"There is no us, Mr. Valente. It's over. Get it? You were merely an employee."
Anger boiled inside Marco. Not at Carly, for she obviously knew what she wanted, and had gotten it. He was angry with himself. His gut churned and he fisted his hands at his side. He'd been a fool even to agree in the first place. Had thought that perhaps, maybe...
Fool!
"We were meant to be on the island with my friends, and since neither of us had come with a phone, we had to stay. Simple as that. Nothing more,” she said taking several steps back. “The contract ended the moment the plane flew off and my friends didn't turn up."
"Yet you were happy to play, sweetheart,” Marco drawled.
Carly's face bleached of color.
Just then, he felt the buzz of his mobile hidden in his jacket pocket. A slow smile spread across his face.
Revenge is often sweet, so they say. Pulling it from his pocket, he flicked it open.
"I'm here,” he said.
Carly stared at him. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. He searched her face, waiting, keeping his stance rigid, knowing she would attack.
She didn't disappoint him. “You had a phone all along,” she accused jabbing an index finger at his chest. “I asked you the day we arrived, Marco Valente, if you had one. You said no."
Marco looked away, aware of a definite stain of heat beneath his skin.
"At least you have the decency to look guilty,” she chastised.
He snorted, uncomfortable with her accurate barb. “Do you think a phone would have improved the situation?"
"Of course."
"How? We would have gotte
n off the island and you could have worked your butt off, instead of enjoying four days. I made a decision. You said you wanted to escape to paradise with your friends."
"My friends weren't there, remember?"
"Was it so bad? Didn't you enjoy yourself?"
Carly's lips pursed into a thin disapproving line.
"Okay,” he shrugged, refusing to acknowledge the hint of guilt assuaging him. “So I lied. I'm not sorry."
Yes you are. That's why you feel guilty.
"Tell me one thing, Marco, since I didn't hear it ring while we were on the island, I presume you deliberately kept it on silent. Did you?” she challenged.
Marco nodded and Carly's breath escaped in one long hiss. “If there is one thing I hate, it's a liar and a cheat,” she accused.
"What are you complaining about, cara?"
"Don't you cara me, buster."
"You got what you wanted. Don't complain."
Carly shivered. “Wanted? How the heck do you know what I wanted?"
A slow smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, cara mia, I know. Your body told me."
"Trust you to bring it down to sex."
"It wasn't just sex. It was desire. Blatant, scorching, and flagrantly hot sex,” he said watching with triumph as a blush traveled the curve of her delicious neck. “It was more than good, you can't deny it."
Carly's eyes widened.
"See, you can't, can you?” he reiterated. He sure couldn't. It had been pure heat. Sizzling, mind numbing, and unforgettable. But despite the ring of truth, Marco felt a sadness and disappointment that everything had come down to this.
A play of emotions crossed Carly's sweet face and she let out a world-weary sigh. “You lied to me, Marco. Now you reduce it to sex."
"No, cara. You do that by handing me money."
"I always keep my promises."
"All very admirable, but I don't need your money. I have my own, plenty of it."
Just then a white stretch limousine rounded the corner and pulled up beside them. A black-suited driver with a crisp white shirt and dark tie exited and held open one of the rear doors. He nodded toward Marco. Now the truth would be out.
For the second time in as few a minutes, Carly's mouth gaped in astonishment. “What does that man want?"
Hiring Cupid Page 9