Hiring Cupid (11 page)

"A bad one?"

"Yes. It was the storm of the decade they said. Mum had gone out, leaving me to baby sit the younger ones."

"You were alone?"

"Yes."

"And that happened often?"

"More than it should. But it was my life. I didn't know any different."

"And you were alone in the storm?"

Carly turned away from the thrashing storm outside. “Windows broke, the rain lashed the house, inside and out. I didn't know what to do. Then the power went out. I went outside to try and board up the windows, but I was only ten, Marco. Ten years old and trying to be an adult.” Tears gathered in her eyes.

"Too hard for a child,” he acknowledged. He held her hand, fingers lacing with hers, wishing he could have protected her then, and wanting to protect her now, to ease her pain. “Shush, don't cry."

Turning her to him, he brushed his fingers down her cheek, wiping away her tears. Her breath stilled as his thumb caressed the outline of her mouth and his eyes held hers. Soulful and full of promise.

"Please don't leave me tonight, Marco. I don't want to be alone."

"Are you sure?"

"
Si
,” she teased, her accent exaggerated.

"I can see I have to give you a few Italian lessons."

"There's a lot I'd like to learn."

"
Amore mio
, I would teach you everything."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Marco's touch set Carly on fire. It was sublime, everything she thought it would be, and more.

As she lay on the bed, she watched him strip, clothes falling where he dropped them. He was a magnificent man and she couldn't take her eyes off him. Broad shoulders tapered to slim hips, the smattering of jet-black chest hair beckoning her fingers. Carly lowered her gaze, suddenly filled with a raging hungering need to explore his glorious body and any residual calm she thought she possessed shattered as he eased his long, taut body next to hers.

He reached for her and her length grazed his, chest to chest, hip to hip, the hard sensual thrust of his arousal a potent reminder that Marco was all male. Slowly his eyes darkened to a blue-black, holding hers in a powerful force. His lips sought her mouth, arousing her with a whisper soft touch. Carly groaned and her body yielded, arching against his. Marco's breathing came in short, sharp intakes and the pulse in the base of his throat throbbed. She ran a finger over it, felt it skip an erratic dance. She couldn't help but smile, enjoying his reaction to her.

"Lesson one,” he whispered in her ear.

Carly braced herself, waiting with excited expectation, her eyes closing the moment before he dropped soft shivery kisses on her eyelids, then her earlobes and continuing down to her throat.

Her skin burned with desire, her body consumed by a basic need. She wound her arms around his neck, holding on, praying it wasn't a dream and like a genie, he would vanish. With the tip of her fingers sliding through his silky hair, the texture a sensual play against her own soft skin, she tilted his head down to her breast and arched up to meet him.

"You taste delicious,” he groaned as he suckled on one pebble hard nub.

Hearing his whispered ecstasy, she smiled, satisfied. Nothing else mattered. “I'm learning,” she managed to speak between the teasing kisses he dotted across her lips, her eyes, her face.

"You're a good student,” he agreed and sought solace from her other breast. “Your body is so responsive,
cara mia
."

"I...” Carly couldn't think clearly, her mind fragmented. She could only feel, touch, and taste. All thought beyond the now was gone.

Reacting with a compulsion and desire so strong she arched her hips to his. The hard masculine length of him pulsed against her stomach and he began to explore her intimately, teasing her to even greater heights than she thought possible. Brazened, she slipped her hand between them and clasped him, smiling as Marco exhaled a harsh, ragged gasp.

"Lesson number two."

"I try to please,” she smiled.

"You do. Very much."

Lost in a sensory world, Carly's mind went blank. Only Marco touching her, urging her with his fingers as they flickered over her slickness was important. She gloried in the sensations whirling through her veins, the rhythm of his heightened touch. Finally, as she reached for some intangible goal, allowing her body to surrender completely, the night was pierced by her cry of pleasure as Marco brought her to heart-wrenching, joyous fulfillment.

Nothing had prepared Carly for this. Nothing. She lay dazed in utter contentment, savoring the spine-tingling moment, too happy to breathe, too fulfilled to think.

As every wonderful sensation washed over her in a gentle ebbing caress, she let out a shuddering sigh of total release and contentment. “That was beautiful."

"Beauty for the beautiful,
amore
.” Marco grinned and trailed a finger down the side of her cheek. “Lesson number three,
cara
. A man makes sure his woman is pleased,” he whispered into the soft fall of her hair and again began dotting butterfly soft kisses down the curve of her throat. It sent goosebumps shimmying up and down her spine, an instant heat pulsing between her thighs.

Breathless, Carly felt the combined erratic thump of their hearts. As if joined together, they beat as one. “You have pleased me. I've never...” Her voice trailed off and an embarrassed heat rushed to her cheeks.

But Marco pulled back and the tip of his finger lifted her chin up. Her gaze met his.

"Pleasure, Marco. That was the pinnacle of pleasure. I feel complete.” And she was. It echoed through her body in a continuous salve of pure joy and made her heart sing. “You've made me come alive. I don't want to even breathe in case it disappears,” she giggled. “I never want to lose this feeling. To lose..."

"Shush. That is impossible. We have all night.” Dark, teasing glints flickered in Marco's passion-filled eyes.

"All night. Sounds perfect.” Reaching up, Carly trailed a path over the rough sandpaper stubble of his chin. “Everything I touch is so heightened, so erogenous, and arousing,” she whispered. “Are our lessons finished?"

One dark eyebrow arched humorously. “Life is one long lesson,
cara mia
."

Carly curved a hand round his still blatantly aroused penis, stroking the thick shaft. She arched back, her legs parting. “Then hadn't we better get on with the lesson,” she said with a wicked smile.

"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.

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.