Chapter 7
seven
. . .
Marco
I stalked away from Wick, my blood singing with a heady mix of triumph and arousal. The look on his face when I’d painted that filthy picture, the way his pupils had blown wide even as he tried to deny it—fuck, it was intoxicating. Knowing I could make Mr. Straight-Laced lose his famous control.
But beneath the thrill of victory, there was something else. A flicker of longing. As much as I loved the game, the push and pull of our twisted little dance, a part of me wanted more. Wanted to see Wick come undone for real, not just in the heat of the moment. Wanted to peel back the layers of his carefully controlled existence and find the man beneath.
And then there was Meghan. Beautiful, complicated Meghan, who’d wormed her way into my heart when I wasn’t looking. The thought of finally claiming her as mine, had my pulse pounding and my cock throbbing.
I needed to see her. Needed to touch her, kiss her, lose myself in her until the rest of the world faded away. Until the only thing that mattered was the slide of her skin against mine and her breathless moans in my ear.
My feet carried me through the darkened streets. Before I knew it, I was standing outside her building, jabbing impatiently at the buzzer.
“Hello?” Her soft, sleepy voice crackled through the intercom.
“It’s me. Can I come up?”
A pause, then the buzz of the door unlocking. The elevator ride to the penthouse seemed to pass in slow motion. By the time I reached her floor, I was ready to combust.
She opened the door wearing a silky robe, her blonde hair mussed from sleep, her blue eyes wide and questioning. “Marco? What are you doing here?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I surged forward, stealing her breath with a bruising kiss. She gasped against my lips and clutched at my shoulders as I walked her backwards into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind us. “I need you,” I growled, nipping at her bottom lip. “Need to be inside you. Now.”
Meghan’s fingers dug into my biceps. “Bedroom,” she managed, her voice breathy and strained.
I scooped her up, relishing her squeak of surprise. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I carried her down the hall. Her bedroom was dark, the only light coming from the city skyline outside her window. I laid her on the bed, my hands already fumbling at the knot of her robe.
“Marco,” she whispered. “What’s going on? You seem...different.”
“Later,” I promised, pushing the robe off her shoulders. “Right now, I just need to feel you.”
She arched into my touch as I trailed my fingers down her sternum and over the swell of her breasts. I followed the path with my mouth, licking and sucking until she was squirming beneath me, her hands fisted in my hair. “Please, Marco,” she whimpered, canting her hips. “More.”
I groaned. Her words sent a jolt straight to my cock. I made quick work of my clothes, tossing them haphazardly on the floor before settling between her thighs. She was already wet. Her slick heat coated my fingers as I teased her entrance.
“Fuck, gattina,” I breathed. “You’re so ready for me.”
“Always,” she gasped, raking her nails down my back. “Now stop teasing and fuck me already.”
I buried myself inside her with one smooth thrust. A guttural moan tore from my throat as her tight heat surrounded my cock. She cried out, her head thrown back, her body arching off the bed.
I drove into her again and again, chasing the release that wound tight in my gut. She met me thrust for thrust, her hips rolling to take me deeper, her moans filling the air.
“Marco,” she panted. “I’m close. So fucking close.”
“Come for me, baby.” I snaked a hand between us to rub tight circles around her clit.
She shattered with a wordless cry, her walls clamping down around me like a vice. I followed her over the edge with a hoarse shout, spilling myself deep inside her as the world narrowed to nothing but the two of us.
Utterly spent, I collapsed on top of her, my chest heaving, my heart galloping in my ribcage. She ran her fingers through my sweat-damp hair. Her touch was soothing and grounding all at once.
“That was...”
“Intense?” I supplied, lifting my head to look at her .
“Yeah. Intense.”
I rolled off her, grabbing a few tissues from her bedside table. Pulling her into the curve of my body, I gently cleaned her up. She snuggled against me, her head on my chest. For a long time, we just lay there, the silence broken only by the distant drone of the city outside.
“Meghan,” I said eventually, my voice soft and tentative. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?”
I took a deep breath. “I...I think I’m?—”
“Marco, wait.” She sat up, pulling the sheet around her. “I think I know what you’re going to say and I need you to just…not. Not right now.”
I met her gaze, looking for any hint that she felt the way I did. Fuck, I thought she did.
“I care about you, Marco. I do. But I’m in a weird place right now. With everything going on with Emmett’s wedding and...and other stuff, I just don’t think I can handle anything serious.”
Other stuff. I knew what—or rather, who—she meant.
“Ah, got it.”
I was done being vulnerable. This conversation was all I had needed to remind me to stick to what I knew best—casual hookups and meaningless flings. No strings, no expectations, no chance of getting hurt.
“Marco…”
“Really, gattina. It’s fine. Can I stay?”
Her face relaxed. “Really?”
“Of course. Let’s sleep, yeah? I’m fucking exhausted.”
“Fun night?”
“Oh, yeah. Spent all night pissing Wick off. ”
Meghan playfully swatted my chest. “Marco!”
She curled up next to me, and I held onto her for dear life. If this was all I’d get from her, I’d take it.
Wick
“I love you, Wick.” Emmett stumbled against me, his arm slung heavily over my shoulders as we made our way down the darkened city street. The cool night air had done little to sober him. His breath reeked of whiskey and his words tumbled out in a drunken jumble.
“I mean it, man. I love you. You’re...you’re like a brother to me.”
I tightened my grip around his waist, steering his meandering steps back onto the sidewalk. “I love you too, buddy. Let’s just focus on getting you home in one piece, alright?”
“Home...” Emmett’s face split into a dreamy grin. “Callie’s waiting for me at home. God, she’s so pretty, Wick. Like...like a fucking angel or some shit. I’m so lucky. I’m marrying a goddamn angel.”
Something twisted in my chest. I recognized that dopey, love-drunk look on Emmett’s face. I used to wear it myself, back when... No. I couldn’t go there. Not tonight. Not with Emmett draped all over me, in desperate need of a friend to pour his heart out to.
“She’s lucky too, Em,” I said. “You’re going to make a great husband. ”
“You really think so?” He lifted his head to squint at me, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
“I know so. Callie is head over heels for you, man. Anyone can see that.”
“I just...I love her so fucking much. I can’t imagine my life without her.” Emmett’s voice cracked, and he swayed alarmingly to the side before I hauled him upright again.
We walked in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the scuff of our shoes against the pavement and the distant blare of a car horn. Then Emmett spoke again:
“Wick? Do you think...will you ever have this? What Callie and I have?”
I tensed. An image of Meghan surfaced in my mind—her warm smile, the way her cheeks dimpled when she laughed.
And then there was Marco. That infuriating, intoxicating dickfuck. My body responded to his touch like a live wire. I had never felt like this about a man before, and it was fucking with my head. But I couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Not when I was already so twisted up in knots over Meghan. I took a deep breath and forced a casual tone. “I don’t know, man. Maybe someday.”
Emmett nodded, his head lolling. “You deserve it. Someone to love you like Callie loves me. Not some asshole like Beth. Someone to make you happy.”
His earnest words were a knife in my gut. If only it were that simple.
As we turned onto his street, Emmett suddenly straightened up, his eyes widening with drunken delight. “Wick, look!” He pointed ahead, where the warm glow of lamplight spilled from the windows of his house. “Callie’s waiting up for me.”
Through the sheer curtains, I could just make out Callie’s silhouette moving about the kitchen. Even from a distance, her presence radiated warmth and comfort, a beacon guiding Emmett home.
“She’s so beautiful,” Emmett murmured, his voice soft with reverence. “I can’t believe she chose me, you know? That she wants to spend her life with me.”
We navigated up the porch steps together, Emmett fumbling with his keys before finally fitting them into the lock. As the door swung open, Callie emerged from the kitchen, her face glowing at the sight of her husband-to-be. “There you are!” She hurried forward, giggling as she reached out to steady Emmett. “Wow. Someone had a good night, huh?” Emmett’s face was nuzzled into her neck, and I couldn’t make out what he was mumbling into her skin, but I had a good idea. I had been listening to the same bullshit for the last twenty minutes.
Her eyes met mine over his shoulder, warm with gratitude. “Thanks for getting him home safe, Wick.”
I nodded, stepping back as Emmett enveloped Callie in a clumsy embrace. “Anytime.”
As I watched them together, their love so strong it was almost a physical force, the pain in my chest deepened.