Chapter 46
forty-six
I floated through our dinner and all the way back to Marco’s.
At this point, it’s possible my feet won’t ever touch the ground.
All of Tris’s theatrics about taking a risk, giving this a chance. Enjoying what I can while I can….
She was right. Because even if this ends, I’ll always have the memory of this man converting a Manhattan rooftop into our own private restaurant.
How he blushed when he offered to dance with me, admitting he’s terrible at it.
And the way he leaned over the table when our three catered courses were through, brought my hand to his lips, and murmured, “Ready to go home?”
Home.
The word echoes in my dizzy, delirious thoughts as I watch Marco’s profile. He frowns in concentration, swiping his electronic key card through the front door’s lock mechanism.
It beeps, and he cracks the slab open, pausing to slant me a look that’s half-teasing, half-consternation. “Fair warning,” he begins. “I have one more surprise for you.”
Astute man that he is, Marco doesn’t give me time to overthink it. He promptly shoves the door out of the way, deftly spinning me over the threshold so I can see the final piece of his plan.
Hundreds of white rose petals line the wood floor of the hallway, forming a trail to the ice bucket and champagne laid out on the kitchen table. The only light in the whole apartment comes from dozens of candles. They flicker from clusters on the floor, the countertops, and the coffee table.
The door shuts behind us, but I barely hear it. My eyes sting as I blink, trying to clear the dream-like vision in front of me. Hoping I’m wrong.
This can’t be happening. I’ll never recover from losing this.
Tears drip down my cheeks, blurring the scene. No matter how many times I flutter my lashes, it’s all still there.
Two thick fingers press under my chin. Marco turns my face toward his, a new question blooming in his eyes. Wondering what he’s done wrong.
You’ve ruined me, I think, praying to God that he won’t be able to read my mind. His warm depths ignite, swelling with all the things that are so uniquely, sincerely him.
Pain and determination. Possession and lust. Solid and steady, but somehow threaded with that open, obvious tenderness.
It’s already all the things I never thought I would have. Then he opens his mouth, his voice gravelly as he issues his final request.
“Let me make love to you.”
If I really am dreaming, I’ve decided not to wake up.
Nope. No way. I’ll just die here in Dreamland, thank you very much.
Marco waits, looming over me, all dark sensuality and reverence. I’m sure I practically climb his body in reply, because two seconds later, he has me in his arms once again.
I expect him to set a brisk pace and stride right for the bedroom. Instead, he cuddles me close and nuzzles into my neck. “Sweet, beautiful girl. So good to me.”
His praise touches my heart… then slides down to pool in my core, contracting the muscles until they throb. I whimper, and he hums, kissing a slow path to my mouth. He sinks his tongue against mine, moving with languorous, thorough thrusts.
Marco takes a few steps and balances me against the cased opening to his great room, slipping his jacket off before trailing his fingertips up my forearms. They tingle while he pulls Tris’s crimson pashmina from my elbows, letting it fall to the floor beneath me.
“You look incredible tonight,” he whispers, lifting my arm to brush his lips against the pulse in my wrist. My legs tighten around his hips.
“You made me so proud. I loved showing you off. I’m going to take you to every five-star restaurant in the whole damn city, just to make sure everyone who’s anyone knows you’re mine. ”
My heart pounds, heavy with the depth of my emotion. “Thank you,” I breathe, on the verge of tears again. “Thank you so much, Marco. For all of this.”
His kisses return to my face, more purposeful than before. “We’ll do it again,” he promises. “All of this. We’re aren’t just for one night, Alice. I’m going to take you out and bring you home and make love to you every chance I get.”
My eyes spill while I nod, gasping around a sob. “O-okay.”
He tsks, holding me closer. “Come here, baby.”
Marco bends and easily sweeps my body to the side, holding me bridal style as he starts toward his bedroom. There are roses and candles everywhere—the kitchen table, the floors, the counters—but I can’t appreciate them.
I only see Marco. His chiseled jaw, dark with stubble, taut with all the emotion he keeps inside. The way his eyes shine, hot but also full of feeling. The concentration tightening his square features, the determined set of his massive shoulders.
He carefully places me on the edge of his bed and shucks his shirt before going to his knees.
The air rushes out of my body while he reaches for my ankles.
His fingers make quick work of the straps, sliding my heels off before taking my feet.
He sets one on his shoulder and begins massaging the other, running his open mouth along my inner thigh.
“God,” he exhales, lightly biting the plump skin. “Fucking heaven.”
His tongue smooths away the sting just as his thumb works my instep. My hips jerk forward, and I moan. The sound echoes off his walls, drowning out the quiet beat of whatever song pumps from the speakers in the ceiling. I bite my tongue.
Good Lord. I really am noisy.
Just as my tide of shame rises, Marco nips me again. I look down to find his dark eyes glowing with heat. “Louder,” he demands.
For a second, I flounder. But then his free hand smooths up the back of the leg draped over his hard, hot shoulder, and his fingertips brush the wet lace covering my core.
My audible gasp makes his lips twitch. He goes back to licking a path up my thigh while he strokes over the soaked panties, lightly teasing my clit through the rough fabric until I mewl.
He gives a low sound of approval while he lifts my other ankle to hook my knee over his vacant shoulder. He pushes the skirt of my dress to my waist, baring the ivory thong underneath. “Look at you,” he murmurs, staring. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
He doesn’t waste any time. With a few more reverent brushes of his mouth to my upper thighs, he pulls the panties away from my pussy and settles his mouth over me.
Unlike the starved, possessive licks he gave me the first time, his mood tonight seems more loving. He takes his time lingering over every inch of me, working me into a frenzy with slow, deep plunges inside and sweet suction over my clit.
The hand that isn’t busy holding my underwear to the side reaches up. At first, I think he’ll grab my breasts, but his palm settles against my cheek instead, holding my face while he pleasures me.
The tender way his thumb brushes over my mouth sends me over the edge. The next time he slants suction over my throbbing core, I come, crying his name while Marco groans.
We both pant. He straightens, sliding his hand back to my nape as he gets to his feet. “You’re incredible,” he praises, stepping between my legs and bending over me.
I ache to have him naked. My fingers fly to his belt.
The fine fabric of his suit falls to his feet, and I push at his boxers, too.
Marco steps out of it all and slowly lifts the hem of my dress, pulling it off.
I remove my bra and my sopping panties just in time for him to wrap both of his muscle-bound arms around my middle.
He hugs me close, rubbing our bare skin together, and easily maneuvers us into the middle of his giant mattress.
Lying on such a big bed, with such a big man on top of me, I actually feel like I’m the right size, for once.
Especially when his body settles between my legs, and he trails kisses up my stomach before capturing one of my nipples.
I dig my nails into his solid shoulders, moaning and arching under him, pressing his pulsing erection between our bodies. His breathing picks up, but his pace doesn’t. He clearly wants to take everything as slowly as he can stand to.
For me.
To make it romantic and sweet for me. Because he already knows me well enough to know exactly what I want.
Fresh emotion fills my eyes while I run my hands down his back, feeling the hard flesh.
He rears up just in time to distract me with the masculine perfection of his body.
Flickering candlelight moves over his muscles, bathing his glowing bronze.
I trace down over his abs and take his rigid length in my hand.
“Alice,” he groans, tipping his head back while I stroke him. “I love the way you touch me.”
I remember what set him off last time and use both hands, clasping around the head of his erection on each draw until pre-cum wets both of my palms. When he starts to pulse on every tug, I look up to find him staring at me, chest heaving. He pulls out of my hands and crawls over me.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispers, pausing to press a kiss to my heart. “Better. More.”
But he has it all wrong. He’s the answer to my prayers, not the other way around. The dream I thought I’d never have… and he is truly so much more than I ever imagined.
Marco tenses, dark eyes skirting to the nightstand. I instantly shake my head, my hand floating up to touch his cheek. No. We don’t need a condom. I just want you.
He stares at me, eyes smoldering with every kind of intensity I can fathom. Including guilt. With a regretful expression, he reaches over and takes one out anyway.
“You’re all that matters to me,” he whispers into my hair, leaning as he rolls it onto his length. “I’ll make sure it’s safe for you, and then we can stop using them, okay?”
In answer, I put both hands on the back of his head, tangling them in his thick black hair, and pull his mouth to mine. Marco settles between my thighs. The blunt head of his cock brushes against my pussy, slicking through the wetness seeping from my center.
He sets his forehead against mine, eyes falling shut as he groans. “Alice.”
The way he feels… the way he looks… I’m suddenly terrified to be so happy. Part of me panics, sure that he’ll change his mind at the last minute—fling himself off me or reveal a hidden camera or something.
I move to grip his sides, pressing him down while I spread my legs wider, rushing to get him inside me before it all goes wrong. Marco senses the frantic edge to my movements and opens his eyes, reading all the fears pricking at my middle.
His features crease, pained. He frames my face with his hands, balancing on his forearms as he stretches over me. His dark depths glow fervently.
“You don’t have to be afraid, sweet girl,” he says, staring right into my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” Another flash of feeling echoes in his gaze. “I promise.”
Tears stream down my temples while I blink up at him in amazement. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he says, the word almost harsh with his insistence. “More than ever before.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to doubt it. The second he finishes his confession, he surges forward, filling my body with one deep thrust.
I moan too loudly, but he doesn’t care. Marco strokes over my hair and my cheek while he brushes our lips together.
His chest vibrates on a ragged grunt as he starts to move.
He sets an achingly slow pace, sliding almost all the way out of me every time, angling his hips to hit the throbbing place inside me on each plunge.
While he rolls his body against mine, grinding and rotating, his mouth swallows every moan and gasp.
He’s tireless, working himself into me until I’ve melted into the mattress twice. When he finally comes, he keeps his face right over mine, letting me see the moment he loses control and spills into me with a mournful cry.