But not loved. Never loved.
She pushed that niggling reminder to the back of her mind as Marco introduced her to various guests—stars, socialites, business types and the odd more ordinary people, and Sierra chatted with them all. Laughed and drank champagne and felt dizzy with a new, surprising elation.
After a few hours Marco pulled her away from a crowd of women she’d been chatting with, plucking the half-drunk glass of champagne from her fingertips and thrusting it at a waiter, who whisked it away.
‘What is it...?’ Sierra began, only to have her words fall away as Marco drew her onto the dance floor.
His gaze was hooded and intent, the colour of his eyes like molten silver as his hands slid down to her hips and he anchored her against him.
‘Dance with me.’
Sierra felt as if the breath had been vacuumed from her lungs as she wordlessly nodded, placing her hands on his broad shoulders, the fabric of his tuxedo jacket crisp underneath her fingers.
The string quartet was playing a lovely, lazy melody, something you could sway to as you lost your soul. And Sierra knew she was in danger of losing hers, of losing everything to this man. Tonight she wasn’t going to worry, wasn’t even going to care. She’d let herself fall and in the morning she’d think about picking up the broken pieces.
‘It seems like the ball is going well,’ Sierra said as they swayed to the music. ‘Are you pleased?’
‘Very pleased. The hotel is booked solid for the next three months. That’s in part because of you.’
‘A very small part,’ Sierra answered. ‘You’re the one who put in all the hard work. I’m proud of you, Marco.’ She smiled shyly. ‘I know you told me how much your job meant to you, but I realised why tonight. You’re good at this. You were meant for this.’
Marco didn’t speak for a few seconds; a muscle flickered in his jaw and he seemed to struggle with some emotion. ‘Thank you,’ he said finally. ‘That means a great to deal to me.’
The song ended and another one began, and neither Marco nor Sierra moved from the dance floor. She felt as if she could stay here for ever, or at least until Marco finally, thankfully took her upstairs.
‘You are the most beautiful woman in the world tonight.’ Marco’s voice was low, his tone too sincere for her to argue with.
‘As long as you think so,’ Sierra murmured.
His eyes blazed for a second, thrilling her, and he pulled her even closer to him. ‘Do you mean that?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply. After everything that had happened, everything he’d made her feel, she knew there could be no dissembling.
Marco drew a shuddering, steadying breath and eased her a little bit away from him as he smiled wryly. ‘I don’t want to disgrace myself here.’
She smiled, the curve of her lips coy. ‘Then disgrace yourself upstairs.’
Regret flashed across his features like a streak of pain. ‘We can’t leave the ball yet.’
‘Do you have to stay to the end?’ Some of the socialites and celebrities seemed ready to party until dawn.
‘No,’ Marco answered firmly. ‘And even if I needed to, I wouldn’t. I can’t last that long without touching you, Sierra. Without being inside you.’
The huskily spoken words sent a spear of pure pleasure knifing through her. ‘Good.’
Marco shook his head. ‘Keep looking at me like that and I really won’t last.’
‘How am I looking?’ Sierra asked with deliberate innocence.
‘Like that.’ He pulled her closer again. ‘Like you want to eat me.’
‘Maybe I do.’ A blush pinkened her cheeks but she held his heated gaze. She could hardly believe the audacity of her words, and yet she meant them. Utterly.
Marco groaned softly. ‘Do you enjoy torturing me?’
‘Yes,’ she answered with a shameless smile. ‘It’s payback for the way you tortured me this morning.’
His gaze swept over her body. ‘That was torture for me, as well. Sweet, sweet torture.’
She felt as if she could melt beneath the heat of his gaze. Or maybe combust. She’d felt an intense excitement spiralling up inside her from the moment Marco had taken her onto the dance floor, and it was overwhelming now. The need for him was a physical craving, so fierce and wonderful she was helpless to its demand.
Her tongue shot out and dampened her lips as she gave him a look of complete yearning. ‘Marco...’
‘We’re going,’ Marco bit out. ‘Now.’ His long, lean fingers encircled her wrist as he led her purposefully from the dance floor.
In any other circumstance Sierra would have baulked at being led from the ballroom like a sulky schoolgirl or a flagrant harlot. Now the need was too much to feel even a twinge of embarrassment or anger. She just wanted to get upstairs fast.