Page 22

ROISIN

Lord help me, I should fight this kiss.

But I don’t want to.

Marco might not want anything to do with me, but he brought me to a damn tiny crevice in the mountains to cheer me up. He carried me across the snow so that I didn’t have to touch it. He made sure that the food I’m eating isn’t poisoned, for Christ’s sakes.

Marco De Luca might not want me, but he also has shown me more kindness and love than I’ve felt in years.

And I’m just a girl. I can’t be expected to hold out under these conditions. On top of all of that, Marco walked out of the shower without a shirt on, and the curve of his muscles made me practically salivate with want.

I’m not strong enough to resist him. Complicated, messy, as awful as this is.

I want him. Pure, simple, and clean .

So I cave.

When his hand curls behind my neck, tugging my lips up to his, I moan and lean into it. The feeling of him pinning me to the counter should scare me. It should scare me a lot.

Except with Marco, I never feel trapped.

And while I’ve been scared plenty, he doesn’t scare me.

I’m so tired of fighting this. Marco is like a drug, I know I’m an addict, and right now, I’m not strong enough to say no.

I kiss him with everything I’ve got.

It’s not just a kiss. It’s consuming. Marco’s body is everywhere. The kitchen is small, absolutely, but it gets smaller by the second as his lips skate over my neck.

He smells good. Comforting.

Sexy.

I gasp when his hands scoop underneath my legs and lift me up onto the counter. I’m wearing some soft lounge pants and a tank top with a sweater over it, all selected from the bag that he packed for me.

Leaning back on the countertop, I shiver as Marco’s hand finds its way under my shirt, tracing up the line of my stomach toward my breasts.

He moans when he finds out my choice (or lack thereof) in underwear.

“Jesus, Roisin. If I’d known…”

“You knew,” I murmur. “You didn’t pack me a comfy bra, so I had to make do. ”

Marco’s eyes shoot up to mine, and I can tell that he’s genuinely worried for a second. I lean forward and press a kiss between his eyebrows.

“I’m teasing you,’ I whisper.

The brown of his eyes flashes. “If that’s the decision you made, I’m throwing out every fucking bra I can find,” he growls.

I laugh, but before I’m even really aware of it he has my shirt tugged up and over my head.

I shiver, but not because the air in the cabin is cold.

Marco’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. Like I’m some kind of feast, spread out for him.

I tilt back, leaning on my elbows on the countertop.

“You,” Marco growls, the sound of his voice a low and tantalizing rumble, “are the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever seen.”

I turn my head, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “I bet you say that to all the half-naked girls you see.”

“No,” he rasps, his lips an inch from one of my nipples. “I don’t.”

When his mouth closes around me there, I arch, gasping like I’ve been struck by a live wire.

The thing is, normally I’d assume that men would say anything to me in this position. That they’d lie to get what they wanted.

Marco doesn’t lie.

Oh sure, he withholds information. He uses his considerable intellect to his advantage .

But I’ve never heard him tell an outright lie…

Not like I did.

I shake off the thought. I didn’t lie to Marco; I didn’t tell him who I was. It wasn’t relevant until it was.

His teeth bite lightly on the underside of my breast, shocking me back into the moment. I moan, my fingers scraping along the back of his neck and his well-trimmed hair.

“The things you do to me,” he rumbles.

He has absolutely no idea.

“I want more. Please,” I whisper. I don’t even care that I’m begging.

It feels safe to beg him because I know he’ll give me exactly what I want.

Marco grunts, picking me up again, spinning me over to the worn leather couch. It’s warm now, from the fire that he lit before he went to shower. My back sticks slightly to the leather, but Marco’s hands on my hips distract me. He tugs my pants down, leaving me bare to the fire.

And to him.

It’s so much like that time at the cottage…

The night that he found out about me.

I shudder. I don’t want history to repeat itself, but I’m not sure at this point what Marco knows and doesn’t know about me.

And I don’t want to ruin this moment. Not when I want it so badly.

Not when I need him like I need my next breath .

Marco’s eyes are so dark, they look black. I can see the fire reflected there, and when he looks at me, with the flickering light caressing his skin, he looks like some kind of primal god.

Like something from a fairy tale.

“I’m going to taste you,” he rumbles. One of his big hands slides up my leg, pushing it to the side, opening me to him.

I throw my head back, arching my chest up. He groans, and one hand presses against my hip, pinning me to the couch.

I’m halfway to telling him that he’s being bossy and arrogant and that I need him to hurry up when he takes one long lick at my center.

All the words fly from my mind after that.

There’s nothing left to do except feel. Every sensation feels like a revelation.

I somehow notice everything… the way Marco plays with the center of my pleasure.

The grip of his hands on my thighs. The way one of his hands slowly escapes and moves up to grab my breast, as though it has a mind of its own.

The way his tongue spears inside me, then retreats.

The way he consumes me like a starving man, and I can do nothing but hold on.

“God, Roisin. Your taste. It’s everything I’ve ever fucking wanted,” he groans.

I should probably warn him that I’ve never actually come before like this. I’d also like the chance to taste him as well, while we’re on the subject…

I wiggle a little, trying to escape his grasp, but his hands push down on me hard enough that I crack an eye open to look at him .

The look he gives me is wicked. There’s no other word to describe it.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls.

“I…well, you see, I’ve just never… this is not going to um…

work,” I say, well aware of how lame my words sound.

I don’t want to tell him that I haven’t had a partner before.

I have no idea if he can make me come like this, but I definitely don’t want to give the impression that I don’t know what he’s doing.

That he’s the only one to touch me like this.

Marco pulls back. His lips shine with my moisture, and the sight makes me blush.

“You’ve never come like this, right?”

I shake my head from side to side, embarrassment choking any chance of words off.

“And you think that’s going to stop me from trying?”

My jaw works, opening and shutting. How do I tell him that I’m nervous? That I don’t want him to feel like a failure? That I don’t want to disappoint him when he can’t make me finish this way?

Marco chuckles, the sound vibrating the whole way up into my center. “Oh Roisin. Have you ever seen me turn down a challenge before?”

“Wait…” I protest weakly.

But it’s too late.

His lips return, his tongue working me with a kind of intensity and precision that makes me jackknife up off the couch. I wriggle again, but he tugs me closer .

Marco looks up at me, the challenge clear in his gaze.

When he presses one thick finger inside me, I lean back, gasping at the pressure.

He laughs. “Oh I think you can do better than that, Roisin.”

Another finger joins the first.

The pressure is intense. It’s exquisite. Somehow he works a spot deep inside my body that makes me feel like I’m about to fall apart at the seams. When a third finger is added, I writhe, part in pleasure, part in pain.

But not bad pain. The type of pain that seems to scrape each of my nerves, one by one, until I’m just putty in Marco’s hands.

It’s somewhere in this boneless state that I notice something building at the base of my awareness, at the edge of my spine. I’ve had orgasms before; I’m not unfamiliar with the sensation.

But the way this one feels is entirely different.

“I can feel you, Roisin,” Marco grunts from between my legs. “I need you to come for me, baby.”

“Marco…”

“Come for me,” he commands.

God help me.

His words push me over the edge.

I scream, my hands scrambling for purchase on the couch, tugging at his hair as I try to get away from him, try to get closer to him. I’m not sure where I need to go, because the orgasm that’s ripping through me robs me of all my senses .

“Good girl,” he rasps.

I shudder, the words somehow sinking an extra little punch into the waves of desire already racking my body. I don’t know where I end, or where Marco begins.

I don’t even know if I’m fully in control of myself, or if he’s the only one in charge.

Eventually, the buzzing in my head settles down. My breath rasps in and out of my lungs, and I’m aware of the loud noise it makes in the otherwise quiet cabin.

Marco waits, patiently, at the edge of the couch.

I prop myself up on my elbows, blinking down at him.

It’s a good thing that his lips turn up into a smile, because I’ve no idea what to say.

“No one else has made you come like that?” he growls.

Numb, I nod.

“Good. Because what I want to do to you Roisin, no one will ever do. Do you hear me? The way I’m going to fuck you, there will be no other man who can do that like I can.”

I want to roll my eyes, but I’m struck with another one of those stray thoughts.

Marco doesn’t lie.

I gulp. Does he mean right now? As in, we’re going to do this at the moment? Here? On the couch, this very second?

His eyes flash. “Do you want that?”

Of course I do. I nod.

His grin is sinful. “Good. But first, I think something is burning.”

I finally notice the scent that I thought was just my own post-orgasm haze. Scrambling up, I look at the stove, and shriek. “Help me get these out!” I say.

Marco laughs, coming up to cover me with a blanket. “There’s more food, love. We’ll figure it out.”

He moves into the kitchen, but one word rings through my mind like a bell.

Love.