“Your mother was a good person, and a beautiful woman.”
“And insecure as hell.” Monet made a face. “She had a desperate need to be loved—not by me, but by others. She needed your approval more than mine. She needed your brother and sisters’ affection more than mine. Why? Because I was hers, and I had to love her. Your family...that was the challenge.” She grimaced again. “But why are we talking about the past? It’s always about the past. I’m tired of the past. I’m only interested in the present, and the future, which is why I love London. In London everything is new for me. I have interesting work, and a fulfilling life. I never look back, and I never feel like a second-class citizen.”
“You’ve never been a second-class citizen.”
She forced a mocking smile to her lips even as she held back the sting of tears. “When it comes to the Ubertos, I’ve always been a second-class citizen. To quote your father, I’m only ‘good enough to bed, but not to wed.’ Good night, Marcu.”
He followed her out, catching up with her on the stairs. “Monet, wait.”
“This isn’t a good time for us to talk, Marcu. You’ve gone through a great deal today. It’s been so stressful—”
“I know the kind of day I had today, and it was rough. Twice I thought I make not make it home, but that was also a much-needed wake-up call. Life is short. We’re mortal. We don’t really have time to waste.”
“I’m glad you had an epiphany. But that changes nothing between us.”
“I don’t want Vittoria. I want you.”
“No. No.” Her laugh was incredulous. “I’m not a replacement for Vittoria. I’m not easy, or convenient. I’m not an option in any way.”
“The kiss we shared—”
“Shouldn’t have happened.”
“But it did, and it made me question everything.” He climbed yet another step so that he was just one stair below her now. “I’ve been determined to go through life without feeling, but that’s obviously not working, not for me, or anyone.” He took the next stair so that they were side by side. “The children have no idea how much I love them, when everything I do is to ensure their well-being.”
He lifted a long tendril of hair from her shoulder, the silky strands sliding through his fingers. “And you—you imagine that you’re someone I wanted to use for my pleasure because I had nothing else to do, and no one else to turn to, and that’s not true. It’s not ever been true.”
“Please, Marcu, I’m not a fool. You married Galeta only a few months after I left Palermo. She must have already been on the horizon when you were making love to me in your bedroom.”
“We’d dated. We weren’t serious.”
“Just like you weren’t serious with me.”
“I never hid anything from you. You knew I was socially active.”
She averted her face, features tightening. “This walk down memory lane isn’t helping anyone.”
“My point is, I’ve always been honest with you, even when it wasn’t easy or comfortable. I am being honest now when I say that kissing you changed something inside of me. It woke something—”
“No.”
“But it did, it has.” He reached out, tipping her face up, his finger beneath her chin. “I haven’t felt anything in years. I’ve been numb, and then you come back into my life—”
“Because you dragged me back into your life!”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Okay, that’s fair. I did drag you, but I think I finally understand why I had to call in that favor. I needed you.”
She drew away from him and climbed a step. “For the children.”
“No, not for the children, but for me. I just didn’t know it yet.”
She climbed another step. “How convenient to realize that after I was here, hostage.”
“You’re not a hostage. You could go anytime.”
Monet turned to face him fully, eyebrows rising, dark wings above brilliant golden-brown eyes. “So if I asked you to let me return home, you’d allow it?”
“Yes.”
“If I said I wanted to go tomorrow, you’d be fine with that?”
He felt a pinch in his chest—sharp, hard, deep. “Yes,” he said after a moment, uncertain how they’d come to this place already. He’d fought to come home, fought to return to her, and now she wanted to leave him.
Marcu took a breath, “Yes,” he repeated, “but you wouldn’t be able to leave tomorrow. You won’t be able to go anywhere until the storm passes, and that’s another few days.”
“Then I want to leave, as soon as I can.” Her gaze met his. “Will you agree to that?”
The pinch was even stronger this time, stealing his breath. He didn’t want to answer. He had to answer. “Yes.”
She seemed to think this over and then she nodded. “Thank you.” And then she leaned down and kissed him. “I don’t hate you,” she whispered against his mouth. “But I can’t stay. It’s not good for either of us.”
And just like that, heat exploded between them, and her light kiss became fire, and the fire was bigger than either of them.
He pulled her to him, holding her firmly while he kissed her deeply, parting her lips with the pressure of his. She made a soft groaning sound, which just whetted his hunger, and his tongue teased the softness of her lower lip before stroking the inside of her mouth. She tasted of almonds and cinnamon and her...how he loved the taste of her. No one had ever felt so right in his arms. No kiss had ever made him feel like this, either.
She reached for him, her arms wrapping around his neck, and the kiss was a mutual give-and-take, the hunger binding them together. Her fingers threaded in his hair, and he shuddered with pleasure at the feel of her fingertips across his nape.
“Take me to your room,” she breathed. “Let’s not do this where everyone can see.”
He swung her into his arms and carried her up the remaining flight of stairs to his suite. She was light in his arms, her body soft and warm, and he tried not to get ahead of himself. She hadn’t offered herself up. She hadn’t promised anything. This was just a kiss, and he could be satisfied with that because he wanted her to be happy. It was time he made her happy.
* * *
She felt like she’d waited for this moment—and him—for her whole life, and she had no fear as he undressed her.
He was the one for her, and the one she wanted to be with now. She wasn’t going to think about the future, or the past, she was simply going to give herself over to the pleasure of being with Marcu, the man she adored. Life was complicated and hard and she should be able to have this moment for her, to remember forever.
Stripped bare, he studied her a long moment and then kissed her mouth, and the side of her neck, and beneath her ear in that delicate hollow where every nerve ending seemed to be.
His mouth traveled down the length of her neck, his tongue flicking her collarbone—more nerves, more tingling sensations that made her tremble and ache.
He took his time exploring her curves and shape, lips and tongue and teeth on her nipples, then strokes of his tongue to soothe the light bites. Her breasts felt full and ripe, her nipples strained. She struggled to catch her breath, dazed by the sharp hot sensations filling her veins, coiling in her belly.
He continued his exploration, moving lower, dropping kisses to her belly button and on each hip bone, fingers light across her pelvis, grazing her inner thighs.
She closed her eyes, panting as he parted her thighs, pressing her knees down, open, revealing her most private place. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time because this was so new and yet it felt so good, and it was him, Marcu, who was making her feel this way. Hot, alive, glorious.
His hands parted her thighs wider and then his mouth was there, and his tongue traced the delicate folds. She shuddered at every light lick, unbearably sensitive, her insides feeling like hot thick honey. She was wet and growing wetter, and his fingers slid into her even as he teased her clit, his breath warm, his tongue cool. He lifted his head to watch her as he stroked her with his fingers, burying himself in her tight heat, and it was strange, but wonderful. She bucked as he dropped his head to kiss her nub as he continued stroking her, the incredible sensations flooding her, building, rising higher and higher until she went over an edge, and shattered into a thousand bright pieces.