Chapter 51
My senses are so overloaded I can’t focus.
Did Mark call me perfect?
The thing Yan said last night in the hospital car park – was he right? Does Mark have feelings for me?
Most likely, it was one of those stock jokes we all reach for unthinkingly:
‘I’m an idiot.’
‘No argument there.’
Ha ha.
I’m not sure the theory stands up to close inspection.
Stop over analysing, and just breathe.
I make my way back to the living room where Theo and Mark are waiting.
Mark hits go on the music then comes into the middle of the room with me, just before we start, though we’re interrupted by a ringtone.
‘Shit,’ hisses Theo, gaping at his phone. ‘It’s Tig, on FaceTime. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Let it time out,’ says Mark.
‘Right, right.’
We wait, frozen, till the ringing stops. A few seconds later Mark’s phone starts.
‘If that’s a normal voice call, maybe you should answer to make sure everything’s okay,’ says Theo.
‘Where does she think you are?’
‘In the Duke of Kent with you.’
Mark nods, then accepts the call.
He goes downstairs and opens the front door while he talks to Tig.
Theo checks his watch. ‘It’s almost eight. I’m going to have to leave soon.’
‘Do you want to do a last run-through? We’ll keep the music low so Tig won’t hear it through the open window.’
Theo does better without an audience. Mark’s absence helps me relax, too.
It’s only when we finish that I notice Mark is leaning against the doorway, watching us.
‘That was very good,’ he says, although the expression on his face doesn’t match his positive words.
‘Thanks, mate,’ says Theo, grinning.
‘She’s expecting you home in ten minutes.’
Theo’s smile falters. ‘Oh, right. I’d better get a move-on, then.’
Mark sees Theo out and I sink onto the sofa, relieved that Theo’s gone and I’m no longer being filmed but somewhat nervous about being alone with Mark and the conversation I want to have with him.
‘Do you want some wine?’ asks Mark when he returns. ‘Keep me company while I cook?’
‘I drove, so just a small one.’
I follow him into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and takes out a parcel wrapped in waxed paper.
‘Steaks from a butcher?’ I ask. ‘Fancy.’
‘Blame Yan and his anti-supermarket propaganda.’
I smile. ‘Sounds about right.’
‘Red okay?’
I nod, and he takes out two glasses. There’s already a full, uncorked bottle of wine on the counter.
‘You do that whole “let red wine breathe” thing?’
‘Depends.’
‘On?’
‘The wine.’ He pours us both a glass. ‘And the company.’
I take a sip of wine because I don’t know how to respond to the compliment.
In the weighted silence that follows, I make a decision. ‘Before you start cooking, can we talk? It won’t take long.’
‘No problem, the steak needs a little time out of the fridge.’
The kitchen has counters on two sides. I walk to the side where the sink is, needing some space between us.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asks.
‘Yes, absolutely.’
I sip my wine for courage. ‘When I visited Dad earlier, I asked him what you meant when you said you owed him more than I could imagine.’
He leans back against the fridge.
I use my palms to boost myself onto the counter. Sitting here, I’m closer to Mark’s eye level, and my feet are free to swing, which helps me dispel my nervous energy.
‘He told me everything,’ I continue. ‘That you wanted to pay back Giovanni’s debt, that you literally gave him a cheque.’
He nods. ‘I only regret that I couldn’t do it sooner.’
‘Dad will never accept your money.’
‘I’ll keep trying until he does.’
‘If you think that, then you don’t know him.’
He puts his glass down. ‘The problem, Nella, is he doesn’t know me.
This isn’t something I’ll ever let go. How can I?
He saved Mum and me from a fucking monster.
I used to plot ways of really hurting him when he was asleep.
I would have ended up on a very dark path if your dad hadn’t stepped in. He saved my life.’
His voice is steady, but the room crackles with the energy it’s costing him to stay calm.
‘You don’t have to pay for the sins of your father, Mark.’
‘I hate the idea that Giovanni caused your parents money issues. He wasn’t their problem to solve.’
‘My dad loves you,’ I say, my voice catching. And the next thing I know, my eyes are filled with tears.
In two strides, Mark’s in front of me.
‘Hey,’ he says, taking my hands. ‘Why are you crying? The only person who should be crying is my bank manager.’
‘Jesus, Mark …’
‘I’m joking. Who has a bank manager these days?’
I tilt forward to hug him. He rests his head on my shoulder and holds me tight against him. It’s so soothing being wrapped in his strong arms, my face resting against the warm skin of his neck.
‘You give good hugs,’ I mumble, breathing him in.
He smells of clean skin, and the hint of his aftershave feels like summer. I’d recognise his scent with my eyes closed.
‘Well, you can have one whenever you want.’
The low rumble of his voice quickens my pulse. This isn’t nearly enough, and I can’t keep silent any longer.
‘What if I want more than a hug?’
My words hang in the air, and all I can hear is my own heartbeat in my ears. We’ve been dancing around our mutual attraction because acting on it felt so wrong, but, right now, all the reasons for staying away from each other feel illusory or flawed. I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction.
‘Try me.’
I lift my head from the crook of his neck, so I’m eye-to-eye with him, transfixed by the patterns in his irises. They’re like strands of rich honeycomb. He stays completely still, his body language communicating the first move needs to come from me.
Leaning forward, I kiss him lightly on the lips. ‘How’s this?’
He swallows and nods.
I kiss him again, and as though a dam has broken, he kisses me hungrily back.
I’ve tried to forget how good he is at this, but now his mouth is on mine, I realise exactly why it’s been so hard to forget. His tongue playing with mine powers my whole body.
Energy surges through me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, closing the distance between us. He hooks his hands under my knees to stop me sliding off the kitchen counter, then his lips travel down my neck to the edge of my top, and finally, he dips his tongue between my breasts.
I gasp, and he halts abruptly.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, his voice rough. ‘Do you want to stop?’
‘If we stop, Mark, I’m going to explode.’
‘You and me both,’ he murmurs.
He lifts me up, swings me round and sits me on the table.
He stands back, breathing hard. ‘You’re wearing too many fucking clothes.’
‘It’s funny, you only swear when you’re angry or turned on.’
‘Do I need to specify which one I am now?’
‘I think I can work it out.’
He reaches for the button of my trousers, unzips them, then lifts me off the table long enough so I can yank them off. He pulls my top over my head, and I’m left sitting on the table in just my knickers and bra.
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, and his eyes are molten gold.
‘That bra is something else.’
‘This old thing?’ I trace my fingers around the scalloped edges of black lace shot through with red ribbon. This ‘old thing’ cost ninety quid but, by the look on his face, was worth every penny.
He takes off his shirt, and it’s my turn to marvel at his chest. ‘How do you have this body?’
‘A lot of Nordic Track rowing, but we can swap exercise tips later.’
‘Good call,’ I mumble, impatiently reaching for the fly of his jeans.
He stills my hands. ‘We’re going to take this nice and slow.’
‘I’m not sure slow works for me.’
‘Lie down, Nella,’ he whispers.
I lean back, resting on my elbows so I can still see him.
He stands above me, not moving. I thought he’d be all Italian Stallion about this.
He certainly looks the part – tense and powerful, the sheen on his chest, accentuating the contours of his muscles.
A racehorse waiting for the gates to open.
I’m this close to begging: climb on, hold me down, and giddy the fuck up.
‘I brought a twelve-pack of condoms,’ I blurt. ‘If that’s what you’re worried about.’
He quirks an eyebrow. ‘A little presumptuous? And maybe a tad ambitious?’ Then he grins. ‘I bought some today, too.’
‘Great,’ I reply, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. ‘So, please, for the love of God, will you just—’
He cuts me short by pulling me by the ankles to the edge of the table. His fingers hook into the waistband at the sides of my knickers, and I hold my breath as he inches them down. Thank you, Jesus.
He pulls up a chair.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What people usually do at a kitchen table.’
It takes me a moment to realise what he means. ‘You really don’t have to, I’m more than ready—’
Before I’ve finished my sentence, his mouth is on me.
He starts softly, his tongue making gentle strokes then slowly builds up pressure, and then, when I’m tantalisingly close – and I get there shockingly fast – he uses his hand, too, and I’m suddenly coming very loudly in the middle of the kitchen, not giving a toss that I’m never going to be able to look at this table the same way again.
When I finally get my breath back, I sit up and find him watching me. I expected him to look wolfish, but his expression is much more tender.
He stands, offering me his hand. ‘Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?’
Mark carries me to his room, lays me down reverently on his bed, then takes out a box of condoms from the bedside table.
‘I know I said we’d take this slow, but that was before you came on my mouth with my fingers inside you.’
He kneels on the floor in front of me and unclasps my bra. Bending down, he places a soft kiss on my nipple.
The touch of his lips makes my insides clench.
And, even though I’m impatient for his mouth on my breast, what I need more is him naked.
‘Stand up,’ I whisper.
His hands are at his fly before he’s fully on his feet, but I shake my head. ‘Let me do that.’
It’s painfully erotic to sit naked on his bed and slowly unbutton his jeans while he stands watching.