need.
He could give her that.
And he did. With the slow drift of his hand, the soft caress of his lips as he traversed every sensitive pulse-point, each hollow, pausing to suckle at the tightened bud at the peak of her breast, the tender swell beneath, and low over her quivering stomach to the curls at the apex of her thighs.
Lower, as he explored the sweet moistness, the delicious scent of woman and the swollen clitoris pulsing beneath the erotic laving of his tongue.
Her fingers threaded through his hair, then curled into its length and tugged as sensation spiralled through her body. She arched, unconsciously craving more … and he obliged, cradling her hips between his hands as he held her still.
She was his, mind, body and soul, and still he held back, exerting taut control as she shattered beneath his touch.
Marcello eased her into his arms, cradling her shuddering form as she buried her face into the curve of his neck … and when she went to move, he tightened his hold.
‘Stay,’ he bade huskily. ‘I need you like this.’
It was so easy to let her eyelids drift closed, to relax and let the darkness of sleep steal over her.
For a long time he simply held her, lulled by the evenness of her breathing, the soft sigh of her breath warm against his skin … and on the edge of sleep he wondered what the new day would bring.
DESPITE EVERY EFFORT to minimise the abduction attempt on Nicki, it still made the news, appearing on television stations and in the newspapers.
Marcello refused all interviews, requesting the media and public respect their privacy. He employed guards to ensure no media representative intruded into the grounds of his mansion, and Shannay kept Nicki indoors away from the zoom lenses of persistent cameramen well-known to use devious means in order to gain the slightest advantage.
Staff were reminded of their signed confidentiality agreement, and Marcello placed Sandro in a position of power in the city office while he worked from home.
Nicki’s well-being was a prime focus, and Shannay rarely let her out of her sight. Thanks to Carlo’s handling of the abduction attempt itself, his protective reassurance during their captivity in the van and counselling, Nicki appeared to be dealing quite well with the trauma.
Yet it became apparent the media refused to give up, and although they didn’t get past the guards it was impossible to ignore reflected sunlight bouncing off the poised camera lenses, and a helicopter bearing a TV-station logo passed overhead at least three times a day in the hope of a photo scoop.
For Shannay, it was the last straw, and on the third day she drew Marcello aside soon after Nicki had settled to sleep.
‘We need to talk.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Let’s take it in the bedroom, shall we?’
Not the bedroom. It held too many memories, and she needed to be strong. ‘I’d prefer the office.’
He regarded her carefully, examining her features and noting the darkness apparent in her beautiful eyes, the exigent determination, and prepared to do civilised battle.
With a smooth movement he indicated the direction of the office. ‘By all means.’
On reaching his sanctum, he closed the door behind them and indicated a comfortable leather chair. ‘Take a seat.’
And have him tower over her? ‘I’d prefer to stand.’
Marcello crossed the room, leant one hip against the executive desk and held her faintly defiant gaze.
‘There is something you want to discuss?’
His voice was mild, but there was a studied stillness about him that reminded her of an indolent predator.
Don’t falter. Don’t allow him to see the slightest chink in your resolve. ‘I’m taking Nicki home to Perth.’ There, she’d stated her intention. ‘I can book a commercial flight, or ask you to organise your private jet.’
He didn’t protest, merely stated fact. ‘Your home is here.’
Shannay gave a slight shake of her head. ‘We have an arrangement, and you gave me your word,’ she reminded, holding his steady gaze. ‘I insist you honour it.’
‘Circumstances have changed.’
Her chin tilted. ‘Because you persuaded me to have sex with you?’
Marcello was silent for a few measurable seconds, then one eyebrow arched in deliberate query. ‘Just … sex. Is that what you call what we share?’
‘We scratched a mutual itch.’ Liar. It was more than that. Much more.
She stood immobile beneath his deliberate appraisal, and she held his gaze as if her life depended on it.
‘There’s nothing I can say or do that will change your mind?’
Assure your love for me never died. That love is the reason you dragged Nicki and me back to Madrid … not a need to avenge the past.
But he remained silent. And she didn’t have the courage to lay bare her emotions.
‘No.’ It was the only word she could manage without risking an inability to control the tremble in her voice.
‘You intend to return to Madrid … when?’
This was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. ‘I’ll accompany Nicki when she travels to visit with you.’ And die a little every time, she added silently.
‘That’s your final word?’
She couldn’t afford to back down, even though the decision was killing her.
Did he know? Or even guess?
Maybe he didn’t even care. Sex was … well, sex. And for a man, without love to make it special, almost any woman would do. And any number of women would line up hoping to tempt him into their bed the instant news filtered out his wife had left him … again.
‘Yes.’ A determined if stoic confirmation.
She searched his features for the slightest sign her decision affected him … and failed to detect a thing.
When she thought of their lovemaking … and it was lovemaking, she wanted to burst into ignominious tears that he could brush it aside so easily.
‘When do you plan to leave?’
He wasn’t going to argue? Attempt to persuade her to stay?
Yet what had she expected? For him to break down and beg?
That wasn’t his style.
‘As
