Once in their early days as lovers, sensing her uncertainty and slight awkwardness with her own sexuality, he had relaxed her with an evening of champagne and slow lovemaking before coaxing her to let him position both of them where she could see the reflection of their naked bodies in a mirror. Then carefully, and with breathtakingly deliberate sensuality, he had revealed to her the mysteries of her own sex, showing her it’s desire-swollen and flushed outer lips, caressing them so that she could see her body's reaction to his touch sliding his fingertip the whole length of her wetness before focusing on the tight, excited and oh-so-sexually-sensitive flesh of her clitoris. He had brought her to orgasm there in full view of her own half-shocked, half-excited gaze.
But she’d had her own sweet revenge later, turning the tables on him by exploring him with shamelessly avid hands and lips, spreading apart his heavily muscled male thighs so that she could know the reality of his sex with every one of her senses.
Now as his fingers probed her wetness, she rose up eager to accept their gift of pleasure. But for once, he didn't seem inclined to draw out their love-play, instead suddenly groaning and reaching for her covering her and thrusting powerfully and compulsively into her as though he couldn't get enough of her driving them both higher, deeper, closer to the sanctuary that waited for them. Instinctively Emily clung to him riding the storm with him welcoming him and sharing its turbulence.
Marco could feel an unfamiliar urgency possessing him and compelling him. demanding that he thrust harder and deeper. Emily shuddered beneath the intensity of his passion, immediately responsive to it. Her nails raked his back where his flesh lay tightly against his muscles, inciting him to fill her and complete her. The sensation of the tight heat of her wetness as it gripped and caressed him flooded everything but his ability to respond to her sensual urging from his mind. A primitive need surged through him.
It had been some time since he'd last used a condom when they had sex; their relationship was of a long enough duration for him to know that there were no health reasons for him to do so and that Emily was on the pill. Also, he knew how much she herself loved the skin-on-skin contact of their meshing bodies.
Was Marco aware of how deeply he was penetrating her? Emily wondered dizzily, or how intense and primeval a pleasure it was for her as surges of sensation built, promising her orgasm? Did he know that when he came he would spill so very close to her womb? Did he know how much she wanted him; how much she ached now? Right now for him? She gave a low soft, almost tormented cry as her orgasm began, clutching at Marco, her head thrown back in pagan ecstasy as her pleasure shuddered through her only to intensify into a second spiral of even greater intensity that shook her in its grip and melted her bones as Marco came hotly inside her.
Emily blinked fiercely. What they had just shared had been incredibly close and physically satisfying. Emotional tears slid down her face. Surely it wasn't possible for Marco to make love to her like this and not be in love with her? Perhaps the change she had sensed in him was because he was falling in love with her and he was reluctant to admit it? Tenderness for him and for the vulnerability she knew he would never admit to stole through her.
She snuggled closer to him warmed by his body and the intimacy they had shared, and most of all by the glow of the hope growing inside her. She would teach him that their love would make him stronger, not weaker; she would show him as shed tried to do all along, that he was what mattered to her and not the things he could give her. Marco had never told her why he was so adamant that love wasn't something he believed in or wanted, and she assumed that it must be because as a very young man he had been badly hurt and had vowed never to fall in love again. In a man as proud as Marco, such a wound would go very deep.
Although people had been quick to gossip to her about him when shed first met him and about the stream of glamorous women who'd graced his arm and his bed before her no one seemed to know much about his life before he had come to London. Marco was fiercely protective of his past and his privacy, and Emily had learned very early on in their relationship how shuttered he could be when she tried to get him to open up to her. So it had to mean something that they were still together. Emily told herself sleepily. Why shouldn't that something be that he had fallen in love with her without even realising it?
CHAPTER FOUR
‘AND I want the whole place to— know—like be totally me. So there II have to be plenty of pink and loads of open-plan storage for my shoes. All my fans know that I'm a total shoe-freak.’