by Sarah Curtis
“No.”
“What did you say to Mr. Big Mouth?”
“Who?”
She shook her head, “You know, the guy you assaulted.”
“Nothing.”
“Are you ever going to answer in more than one-word responses?”
He threw her a smirk. “Yes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
They reached the car, and he opened the passenger door for her, but after she got in, instead of going around to the driver’s side, Marco squatted so he was eye level with her. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear then left his hand cradling her neck.
He stared at her a moment, his eyes serious when he finally said, “I can’t seem to get this date thing right. Did I ruin the evening?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No.”
“Do you want to give dinner a shot?”
She laughed outright. “No.”
He chuckled. “Home and pizza delivery?”
“Sounds good.”
He kissed her lightly on the forehead before standing, closing her door, and going around to his side.
They were on the road for a few minutes before he said, “I’m sorry you missed the movie, I know you were excited to see it.”
She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Although, I am bummed I missed seeing Liam Ryder in spandex.”
Marco’s eyes darted her way before turning back to the road. “Come again?”
“Liam Ryder. He’s a blond, Australian hottie. I was looking forward to seeing him in his tight superhero costume.” She wiggled her eyebrows when Marco’s eyes darted her way again.
She had his profile as he stared at the road, and she saw his jaw flex. “I don’t share.”
Okay, she could understand that. She didn’t want to share Marco either. But drooling over movie stars was different. It was almost as if they weren’t even real people.
“It’s looking not dating.”
“I. Don’t. Share. Not even your fantasies.”
Her eyeballs saw black they rolled so high in her head. “Do you know how ridiculous that is? Are you trying to tell me, with all the nightclubs you go to, you don’t look?”
“I may look, but I don’t see. I don’t see anyone but you.”
God, he meant that.
Staring at his profile, she said, “And all I see is you.”
She saw his shoulders relax, and a small smile curve his lips, and she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “And Liam Ryder.”
Turned out, Marco could hold a grudge. He also hadn’t thought her joke funny. She discovered this when they got home. They came in through the sliding door, as usual, but what was unusual was Marco closed it right after Fred darted out.
Confused, she asked, “Why’d you lock him outside?”
“I don’t want to be disturbed.”
He grabbed her waist and walked her backward until they reached the foot of the stairs.
“I’d like to talk about this Liam Ryder guy.”
She laughed. “You’ve got to be joking. You can’t still be upset about that.”
That got her a growl as he hiked her up, tossing her over his shoulder.
The air left her in a whoosh, so she couldn’t manage a proper girly shriek. Though, she did accomplish one in her head.
He smacked her ass.
“Hey!
“I’m serious. You’re never to think about him again.”
A few seconds later, she found herself tossed, her back landing on the bed with another whoosh of air exiting her lungs. Marco followed her down, hovering over her. “Now, tell me you’re all mine.”
She giggled. “I’m yours.”
His face grew so close, she felt his breath hit her lips. “That didn’t sound like you meant it.”
His voice was low and gravely, and it sent goose bumps down her arms. How could he even doubt he was it for her?
Reaching up, she brushed her fingers through his hair and held his gaze, all humor fleeing. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
He kissed her then, a light brushing of her lips before he demanded more, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. Conquering it. Claiming it. Marking it as his.
He ended the kiss, raising his head, studying her. Her eyes soaked him in. He really was handsome. His chiseled features were too masculine to be considered beautiful. As was his squared jaw and Roman nose that was just a little too large but managed to fit his face perfectly. It was a face that captivated. And she was one-hundred percent enthralled.
“Now, I have one more very important question, and then I’m going to kiss you again.”
She liked that idea, so she quickly asked, “What?” thinking they were finally going to get busy.
“What do you want on your pizza?”
Or not.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next morning, Gabby woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. She kicked off the covers, rolled out of bed, and darted to the bathroom, invigorated knowing Marco was up already and not wanting to miss a minute of time with him.
She had felt the same the night before. After pizza and a movie, not wanting their night to end, Gabby had suggested another movie. Marco had been game, but as it turned out, Gabby hadn’t been because she couldn’t remember anything after the opening credits. Having awoken in bed, Gabby realized Marco must have carried her there after she’d fallen asleep on the couch. She looked at the bed on her way out of the bathroom but couldn’t tell whether Marco had joined her in it last night or not.
Hitting the top of the stairs, her eyes were drawn to Marco in the kitchen, busy at the stove. His back to her, and shirtless—dressed in only a pair of slacks—their family crest was on full display. She’d seen his tattoo once before—that fateful day of her eighteenth birthday—but she knew it well, as Nico had the same one on his back.
Gabby took her time navigating the stairs, taking in the scene before her. Marco was cooking, moving eggs around in a pan with a spatula. His slacks were hanging low, in fact, they were barely hanging on to his hips, leading Gabby to think they weren’t buttoned—maybe not even zipped all the way—with the white elastic band of his underwear clearly visible. Also visible were two scars. She knew of the one down low on his right side—a knife wound he’d gotten about five years ago when he’d helped break up a fight in one of Nico’s clubs. The gunshot wound to his left shoulder, she hadn’t known about.
She came up silently behind him, but seemingly not silent enough, for he didn’t so much as flinch when she traced a finger over the mark on his shoulder. “When did this happen?” There had been times in their pasts when she hadn’t seen Marco for months, making it possible for him to have been injured without her knowing.
Marco flicked off the burner before turning and taking her into his arms. “Good morning.” He kissed the top of her head, his breath heating her scalp and warming it.
She wrapped her arms around him, running her hands down the smooth skin on either side of his spine until she encountered the scar at his side. “I know when you got this.” She lightly traced over the three-inch patch of raised skin. “But no one said anything about you getting shot.” And she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or angry about that.
“It happened a long time ago. Back when I was still a soldier.”
Gabby remembered Marco only ever being Nico’s sidekick, so it must have been a very long time ago, indeed. “How did it happen?”
“Wrong place, wrong time, and too green to know any better.”
That hadn’t really answered her question, but she supposed it was the best she would get. She decided to change the subject. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
Marco glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “I can manage the basics.” He kissed her forehead. “Go take a seat, and I’ll dish this up.”
“I can help.”
“It’s not hard to dish up eggs and bacon, cara mia.”
“I’ll pour us coffee.” She reache
d into the cupboard above the coffee pot and took down two mugs. She’d learned much about Marco over the past few days, one of which was how he took his coffee.
Pouring the steaming liquid into two mugs, she said, “Not that I don't like having you around, but don't you need to work?” It’d been three days since the explosion. She knew Marco’s “job” wasn’t the usual Monday-through-Friday-nine-to-five profession, so just because it was Saturday didn’t mean much, but she did assume he’d have to go back to work at some point.
“I am working.”
She went to the fridge to grab some milk for her coffee but stopped in the process of opening it. “No you're not. You haven't left my side in days.”
“My job is to protect you.”
“What? Your job is to protect Nico.”
“Not right now it's not.”
She splashed a dash of milk in her coffee and returned it to the fridge before saying, “And you’re okay with that?”
He stopped dishing up food to look at her. “Spending twenty-four hours a day, every day, with you? Fuck yeah, I’m okay with that.”
She couldn’t suppress her smile. “Just checking.”
She set their cups on the breakfast bar and took a seat on one of the stools. Marco joined her a minute later, sitting beside her and placing a plate piled with eggs, toast, and bacon in front of her. She was hungry, but there was no way she could eat so much food. Looking over at Marco’s plate, in hopes of sharing some of hers with him, she saw his was piled even higher.
Okay, guess everything on her plate was hers. She took a big bite. “Mmm.” Marco gave her his eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hand to speak around a mouthful of eggs. “So good.” While simply prepared, they were seasoned well and had the perfect consistency—not too dry nor too runny.
Marco’s fork landed on his plate with a clatter. He was still staring at her.
She swallowed her bite of food. “What?”
“You can’t make noises like that and expect me to ignore them.”
Gabby blinked. Noises? And then her lips tipped up as the lightbulb clicked, and she did something so far out of her comfort zone, it made her heart race. “You mean this one?” She licked her lips and repeated the noise.
Marco stood so fast, his stool fell back and crashed to the floor. Fred yipped and darted out of the room, but Marco’s sole concentration was on her, and he was oblivious to both.
“Exactly that noise.” He took a step toward her. “Do it again, and that’s a good way to get yourself fucked in a hurry.”
Her eyes went wide. “What about the three-date rule?”
“Thought we ditched that plan after our first date.” He moved in so close, his thighs butted against her knees.
She tipped her head back to keep his eyes. “You didn’t try anything last night.”
Amusement lined his face. “Did you want me to?”
She nodded even though the thought of having sex for the first time made her extremely nervous.
He watched her, his eyes missing nothing. “You sure? The first time is a big deal. You positive I’m the one you want to share that with?”
She understood Marco was giving her an out, but she was sure of the fact that not only did she want Marco to be her first, but her last, as well. She swallowed and nodded again.
“I need the words, cara mia.”
“I’m sure.”
His brow furrowed. “Why don’t I believe you?”
That made her smile. “I promise, I’m sure. I’m just a little worried and that’s making me nervous.”
His hand came up and cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “About?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. What if I’m not any good at it? I want you to enjoy it.”
She didn’t expect him to laugh. Her eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”
“Streghetta, there’s no fucking way in hell I won’t enjoy it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because it’s you?”
“What?”
His hand reached under her t-shirt, trailing up the bare skin of her side, stopping just under her breast. She’d never been more aware of not wearing a bra.
“I said,” his face dipped closer to hers. “Because it’s you?”
Her breathing picked up pace, along with her heartbeat that she was sure he could feel under his palm. “What do you mean?”
“Been wanting a long time to make you mine. Never in a million years did I think it would happen.”
His hand moved farther up, cupping her breast. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly when his thumb skimmed over her nipple.
“Now that my dream’s about to become a reality, like I said, there’s no fucking way I won’t enjoy it.” His other hand landed on the small of her back under her shirt, his fingers playing with the waistband of her leggings.
“Trust me, streghetta, having you naked and beneath me will be fucking heaven.”
“Just beneath you? There’s other ways of doing it.” She felt her cheeks heat as soon as the words left her mouth.
He raised a brow. “And how do you know that?”
“I’m not completely ignorant. I’ve got older cousins and the internet.”
His other brow shot up to meet the first. “Porn?”
If possible, her cheeks flamed hotter. “A lady never tells.”
He chuckled as his hand dipped under the waistband of her leggings and discovered the bare flesh of her ass. A noise, part groan and part growl escaped his lips. “You’re trying to fucking kill me. No underwear?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t want panty lines.”
He removed both hands from under her shirt and took hold of its hem. “Arms up.”
She glanced around the living room. “Here? Now?”
He seemed to ponder that a moment. “You’re right. Your first time should be in a bed. Our second time can be on the kitchen counter.”
He grabbed her under the arms, and she squeaked, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her.
His long strides made haste up the stairs, and soon she was falling to the bed to land on her back, Marco following her down.
He kissed her then. She hated to sound like a cliché and say it was toe-curling, but God, it really was. It always surprised her how much softer his lips felt than they looked and then was no exception. His tongue swiped at her lips, parting them. Not asking for permission but demanding it.
For as long as the kiss seemed to last, it still ended too soon. Marco sat up, and she protested with a moan. His eyes heated and she got her wish when he dived back in, giving her his mouth again.
This time Gabby didn’t stop him when his hands found the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head. She even helped, lifting her back and raising her arms.
His eyes fell to her chest, nostrils flaring. “Fuck.” He tossed her shirt to the side then dipped his head, capturing a nipple with his teeth.
Gabby arched her back, a moan slipping past her lips as he bit down on her nipple just hard enough to feel good. Then he rolled it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. Tingles shot down to her core, and she knew if she didn’t get relief soon, she’d combust.
“Marco.” It was a plea as she raised her hips as best she could with his weight on her and pressed herself into his abdomen.
“What, streghetta?” She got his eyes as he raised his head.
She wasn’t sure, only knew she needed him. “Touch me, please.”
Getting up on an elbow, he rolled to the side. “Here?” His hand dipped under the waistband of her leggings, a finger landing on her clit. She jolted at the contact. He circled it a few times, and she shamelessly let her legs fall open. “Or here?” His fingers moved down through her folds and found her opening. He entered a finger into her slowly before pulling it out and doing it again.
“Both,” she panted, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.
She heard
a small chuckle before an amused, “Greedy girl.”
And she supposed she was because she wanted more.
And more.
And more.
“How about this? I think you’ll like this.”
In a blink, his fingers were gone, but before she could protest, he was ripping her pants down her legs, not bothering to finish the job, leaving them trapped around her ankles.
She felt his mouth on her then and the wet heat of his tongue. She got his finger back, and it moved in and out of her, working in time with his mouth.
She squirmed as the tingles built, turning into a growing ache.
Warm heat. Slick, wet tongue. Firm lips. The sensations were almost too much.
Her fingers found his hair, her hands tugging his head closer. Grinding herself against his mouth, her body begged for something she couldn’t put into words. But she did vocalize it, moaning and whimpering in frustration and need.
His finger moved faster, hitting some spot that had her hips gyrating. She kicked off her pants, planting the soles of her feet on the bed for leverage, growing frantic.
Marco raised his head. “You gonna come?”
“I’m so close.”
His hand palmed her breast, squeezing it once before his fingers found her nipple. His mouth fell back down to her clit. He pinched and sucked in unison, and that was all it took to send her over the edge.
She shattered.
Mind-numbing, toe-curling ecstasy rippled through her, and she shouted his name, her whole body going taut before turning to jello as she fell back limply on the bed.
His movements slowed before they stilled. Then he was gone, standing at the side of the bed, stripping out of his slacks. How did she not realize he still had them on? Her eyes traced all the contours of his working muscles. The bulge of his pecks. The rippling of his abs. Gauze still encircled his forearm, the white stark against the olive of his skin.
He slid both his slacks and underwear over his hips, and Gabby wasn’t ashamed to admit she looked her fill as he dropped his pants down his legs, kicking them to the side. She’d never seen a man completely naked before in real life, and she was curiously intrigued. Hard, long, and thick, his penis jutted out proudly from a thatch of springy dark curls.