Inherited by Ferranti

‘Yes,’ she managed in a shaky whisper. ‘I remember.’

‘You liked my kisses.’ It was a statement, and he waited for her to refute it, confident that she couldn’t. Sierra tried to look away but Marco held her gaze as if he were holding her face in place with his hands. He was that commanding, that forceful, and he hadn’t even moved.

‘You don’t deny it.’

‘No.’ The word was drawn from her with helpless reluctance.

‘You still like them, I think,’ he said softly, and her silence condemned her. Slowly, inexorably, Marco drew her to him. She knew he was going to kiss her, and she knew she wanted him to. She also knew it was a bad idea, a dangerous idea, considering all that had—and hadn’t—happened between them and yet she didn’t resist.

His lips brushed hers once, twice. A shuddering sigh escaped her and she reached up to clutch his shoulders and steady herself. His skin felt hot and hard under her palms and she couldn’t keep herself from smoothing her hands down his back, revelling in the feel of him. How could a man’s skin feel so silky?

Marco’s hands framed her face as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding sweetly into her mouth as he tasted and explored her. He slid his hands from her face to her shoulders and then, wonderfully, to her breasts, cupping them as he had that day under the plane tree. She remembered how exciting it had felt, or at least she thought she had, but the reality of his touch now was so intense, so exquisite, she almost cried out as his thumbs brushed over her nipples. She hadn’t remembered this, not enough.

‘Marco.’ His name came on a breath, and she didn’t even know why she said it. Was she asking him to continue or telling him to stop?

He moved his mouth to her jaw, blazing kisses along her neck and collarbone as he slid his hand under her T-shirt and cupped her bare breast, the feel of his rough palm against her soft flesh, the gentle abrasion of it, making every nerve-ending blaze almost painfully to life. It was too much, and yet she wanted more.

‘I want you.’ He spoke hoarsely, firmly, declaring his intent. Sierra could only nod. He touched her chin with his fingers, forcing her to meet his blazing gaze. ‘Say it. Say you want me, Sierra.’

‘I want you,’ she whispered, the words drawn from her, falling into the stillness, creating ripples.

Triumph blazed in his eyes as he pulled the T-shirt off her. She hadn’t bothered with the tracksuit bottoms for pyjamas, so in one fluid movement she’d become naked. She sucked in a hard breath when he pulled her towards him, her breasts colliding and then crushed against his chest. The feel of their bare skin touching sent another tingling quiver of awareness shooting through her. Marco’s hands were on her waist and then her hips as he fitted her against him. She could feel his arousal through the thin pyjama bottoms and it made her gasp. So many sensations all at once; she could barely acknowledge one before another came crashing over her.

Marco eased her back onto the piano bench, spreading her legs so he could stand between them. Her head fell back as he kissed his way from her collarbone to her breasts, and Sierra moaned as his tongue flicked across her sensitive flesh. She’d never realised you could feel this way, that a man could make you feel this way. He glanced up at her, his grey eyes blazing with triumph, and then he moved his head from her breasts to between her thighs and her breath came out in a shaky moan as he touched her centre.

‘Oh.’ She arched against his mouth, astonished at how sharp and intense the pleasure was, how consuming as his tongue found the very heart of her. ‘Oh.’ She threaded her hands through his silky hair as her body arched helplessly against his mouth and his hands gripped her hips. It only took a few exquisite moments for her world to explode in glittering fragments around her and she cried out, one jagged note that echoed through the stillness of the villa.

She really had no idea.

She sagged against the piano as her body trembled with the aftershocks of her climax and Marco lifted his head to gaze at her with blatant—and smug—satisfaction. Realisation thudded sickly through her; his look said it all. He’d been trying to prove something, and he’d just proved it—in spades.

Shakily, colour rushing to her face, Sierra pushed her tangle of hair from her hot cheeks and closed her legs, pushing him away from her. The intensity of the moment had splintered, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. Wounded and ashamed. She’d been so wanton, so shameless, and Marco had been utterly in control. As always.

‘Now at least you know a little of what you’ve missed,’ he said and her mouth opened on a soundless gasp.