Sweet Revenge: The Martinez Marriage Revenge / The Italian Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge / The Kouros Marriage Revenge. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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It was then he moved to the bed and carefully eased her down onto the sheets, and she tossed her head in abject denial as he withdrew, then began a tracery of feather-light kisses over each breast in turn, pausing to savour there before moving lower over her abdomen.
She wanted his mouth on hers … except he had a different destination in mind, and she cried out as he sought the moist heat, laving the clitoris into vibrant, erotic life, sending her high with sensual spasms so intense she cried out as each wave consumed her body and reached right down to her soul.
Then, and only then did he enter her again, surging to the hilt in one powerful thrust, and she became boneless, so caught up with witching abandon she no longer knew who she was … only aware she never wanted this shameless rapture to end as she arched her body and took him again and again until they reached the brink, then soared together in glorious ecstasy.
It took a while for her rapid breathing to slow and return to something resembling normal, and she held on as he carefully rolled onto his back and took her with him, cradling her close, his lips buried against her temple.
It was then he felt the moistness on her cheek, and he smoothed a gentle hand over her hair, tucking some of it behind her ear as he searched her tear-filled eyes.
‘I hurt you?’
She didn’t trust herself to speak, and she simply shook her head.
He lifted a hand and brushed her cheek with his thumb, then he caressed her lips with his own, softly and with such tenderness fresh tears spilled and ran down each cheek in warm rivulets to pause at the edges of her mouth.
Light fingers traced her spine, soothing her as she buried her face into the curve of his neck.
She didn’t want to move. Didn’t feel as if she could.
Soon, she silently vowed, she’d disentangle herself from his arms, catch up her abandoned T-shirt, then quietly retreat to her room.
But for now she’d simply enjoy the aftermath of good sex. Very good sex, she amended silently, and felt the faint pull of unused muscles, the sheer euphoria of sensual fulfilment.
There was a part of her which yearned to be held through the night, to be comforted by the beat of Marcello’s heart beneath her hand, her cheek. To move in the night and be gathered in close against him.
She must have dozed, for she drifted awake to the realisation of a warm body curved round her own, a steady heartbeat against her back … and memory surfaced in a slow, unfolding image.
No. It was a dream, surely? Like one of many which haunted her mind in the dark hours of night.
Yet this was no dream. The arms which held her were real. And she froze for a few interminable seconds, then carefully, slowly, she began to ease herself free. Only to feel those arms tighten as warm breath teased her hair.
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
‘Please.’ Her voice was a strangled whisper of sound, and she felt the press of his mouth against her nape.
‘What if—?’
‘Nicki?’
Ohmigod, Nicki. What was she thinking?
Be honest, a wicked voice taunted. You weren’t thinking at all. ‘If she wakes and I’m not there.’ The words tumbled out in a rush, only to come to a halt as Marcello pressed a hand over her mouth.
‘Don’t,’ he cautioned quietly as he cupped her face and kissed her, slowly, lingeringly, as he felt his body harden with need and her own response.
With care he gathered her in, his persuasive touch wreaking havoc with her emotions as he branded her his own in a highly sensitised coupling that surpassed what they’d previously shared.
CHAPTER NINE
SHANNAY WOKE to the muted sound of the shower running, registered the large bed, the rumpled sheets … and closed her eyes in automatic reflex as memory provided a vivid image of what had transpired through the night and with whom.
If there was the slightest edge of doubt, her body bore numerous signs to disprove it. Not the least of which was the need to shower and retreat to her room to dress.
Nicki.
She reached out and checked her discarded watch, then let out her indrawn breath. Six. It was only six o’clock. Nicki rarely stirred before seven.
The shower ceased, and she hurriedly tossed back the covers and slid from the bed.
Where was her T-shirt? A hasty glance over the floor revealed nothing. Had Marcello picked it up?
Oh, hell, surely not Maria? At this early hour, the likelihood was so remote it was immediately dismissed.
So where the devil was it? She required something to cover her nudity, and she crossed to Marcello’s walk-in wardrobe, selected the first shirt her fingers touched, slid an arm into each sleeve, then re-emerged into the bedroom at the same time Marcello emerged from the en suite with a towel hitched at his hips.
Broad shoulders, expanse of naked chest, the fluid flex of muscle as he towelled his hair dry, powerful thighs.
There was no chance she could escape before he saw her, and almost as if he sensed her presence he lowered his arms.
A slow smile curved his generous mouth as he caught her drinking in the sight of him, and his lips curved as her gaze slithered to a point near the vicinity of his left shoulder.
‘Buenos dias.’ His voice was a husky, intimate drawl as he crossed to stand within touching distance, and she was powerless to prevent the descent of his head as he covered her mouth with his own in a slow, evocative kiss.
Her eyes dilated with a conflicting mix of emotions as he lifted his mouth fractionally from her own, and he had no trouble determining each and every one of them.
‘Marcello—’
He cut off the tumble of words by the simple expediency of brushing his lips over hers … and sensed rather than heard her soft moan in protest as it remained locked in her throat.
Her eyelids drifted down, only to spring open again seconds later as his hand cupped her breast and teased the tender peak before slipping down over her abdomen to the soft curls at the apex of her thighs.
His touch was incredibly gentle as he stroked the sensitive bud still acutely responsive from his attention, and he absorbed the slight hitch in her breath as he sent her spiralling to climax, then he held her until the spasms diminished.
For a moment the past didn’t exist as he brushed his lips to each closed eyelid in turn before releasing her.
‘Great fashion accessory, mi mujer.’ He ran a finger down the shirt’s open edge, his gleaming gaze locking with hers. ‘Although I prefer you without it.’
Shannay dragged the edges together in a delayed sense of modesty as she turned away from him.
He waited until she reached the door, then cautioned quietly, ‘From now on you sleep here with me.’
She didn’t answer, for she was unable to find the words in acquiescence or argument as she turned the door-handle and walked from the room.
It was a relief to discover Nicki still fast asleep, and she quickly showered, then dressed in a gypsy-style skirt in shades of brown and a fashionable top, dried her hair, caught it in a casual twist and anchored it with a wide hinged clip, added lipgloss, then heard her daughter begin to stir.
Breakfast was a convivial meal eaten out on the glass-enclosed terrace, and Shannay endeavoured to focus on Nicki’s excited conversation with Marcello on learning they were to experience the Aquopolis theme park after their morning visit with Ramon.
Something she achieved with difficulty, given the distraction provided by Marcello’s presence directly