I have to put a stop to this charade.
Steeling myself, I step toward the door—only to stop when big, warm hands land on my shoulders.
Gently, he pulls me toward him, molding my back against the hard planes of his body. “Come to bed, kitten,” he murmurs in my ear, his deep, velvety voice caressing me like a touch. “It’s late, and we’ve both had a long day. We’ll sort it all out tomorrow, I promise.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the stinging tears in. My treacherous heart is beating much too fast at his nearness, my body turning boneless and languid. His masculine scent surrounds me, a familiar mixture of pine and fresh breeze, and his erection is thick and hard against my lower back.
He wants me.
He definitely wants me.
And God help me, I want him too.
“Emma.” His voice lowers another octave. “Look at me.”
He could turn me around easily, but he doesn’t. His powerful hands rest on my shoulders, unmoving, and I know he’s leaving it up to me.
Look or don’t look.
Stay or go.
I can walk out of this room, tell my grandparents the truth, and end this insanity right now.
I can salvage what remains of my heart.
Except… he did come all the way here. Would a man do that just because a woman he was losing interest in decided not to see him? Private plane or not, it’s a two-plus-hour flight and time out of his busy schedule. Even chasing me down at the airport seems like a lot of effort if I’m nothing more than an amusing challenge.
Is it possible?
Could he have truly meant some of the things he said?
Does he want me to move in out of something more than logistical considerations?
My feet seem to reach a decision before my brain does, and I turn around, tipping my head back to meet his gaze.
For a second, we just stare at each other, our bodies so close we’re nearly touching. His hands are still on top of my shoulders, the heat from his palms seeping into me, warming me down to my toes. I can see the primal hunger in his eyes, but underneath, there’s something softer, gentler.
Something that makes my chest ache in an entirely different way.
“Emma.” He tenderly cups my jaw. “Give this—us—another chance.”
I draw in an unsteady breath, my heart thudding in my ribcage.
A chance.
He’s asking for a chance.
Another chance for him to hurt me.
Or maybe, just maybe, to find out if this could be real.
“I’m still not…” I lick my dry lips. “This doesn’t mean I’m moving in with you.”
Something hot and dark blazes in the cool depths of his eyes before he veils the expression. “Understood,” he says roughly, and before I can clarify what he means, he dips his head and covers my lips with his.
My mouth opens on a startled gasp, and his tongue invades with unapologetic fierceness as he maneuvers us toward the bed, yanking off our clothes on the way. Gone is the tender man who would’ve let me walk out of the room, and I realize he was never there in the first place. It was always this ruthless conqueror, a savage determined to consume me.
The real Marcus Carelli.
As our clothes hit the floor, his hands skate over my curves with possessive greed, his palms hot and rough on my bare skin, and I respond with the same dark fervor, my hurt and anger transforming into blinding lust. It feels like mere seconds before we end up fully naked on the bed, with him on top of me and my wrists pinned to the bed next to my shoulders as he devours my mouth, swallowing my panting breaths. His large, hard-muscled body is warm and heavy over me, his cock smooth and hard against my inner thigh as he wedges his knees between my legs, opening them wide. His mouth moves over to nibble on my earlobe, then trails down my neck, sucking and biting, and I feel like I’m burning, like I might combust from the dizzying need. By the time he reaches my breasts, my entire body is covered with delicious goosebumps, and I’m so turned on I feel the slickness on my thighs.
“Please,” I moan as his hot, wet mouth clamps over my peaked nipple, sucking on it with a strong pull. “Please, oh please, Marcus, just… Oh God, yes, right there.” My eyes squeeze shut, my hips lifting off the bed as he releases my wrists and moves one hand down to my aching clit, manipulating it with unerring skill. Freed, my hands fall to my sides, only to spasmodically fist the blanket as the tension inside me coils unbearably, the pleasure spiking in a dark crescendo.
I’m almost there, almost at the peak, when the fingers withdraw and his lips return to mine, stifling my moans. Kissing me deeply, he guides his cock to my entrance and slowly, ever so slowly, presses in.
He’s big—God, I almost forgot how big he is—and despite the abundant slickness, there’s an almost painful stretch as he sinks into me, penetrating me with exquisite gentleness. My hands fly up to grip his sides, my muscles tensing as the stretch threatens to turn into a burn. I can feel every thick inch of him, and my body quivers with the effort to accept him. At the same time, his kisses are driving me wild, his tongue tangling with mine with a sensual ferocity that only emphasizes the care he’s taking by entering me so slowly.
Finally, he’s all the way in, his balls pressing against my bottom, and as he pushes up onto his elbows to gaze down at me, I see that his face is sheened with sweat, his hard jaw tense. “You okay?” he asks raggedly, and I nod, unable to speak. He’s so deep in me I feel as if we’re one, as if something more than our bodies is joined together. With his face mere inches away and
