Authors: Bella Costa
“My God.
The Hyatt!
Is the baby mine?”
Serena was helpless.
“Answer me woman.
Is it mine?” he
yelled.
His raised voice jolted her and she nodded her eyes red and raw with
fresh tears.
He is angry.
Oh God I don’t want him to be angry.
He stared for what seemed like an eternity.
His face unreadable.
A small muscle in his jaw throbbed under his
left sideburn.
Finally he expelled a long held breath and rubbed his temples.
Shaking his head he left the bathroom.
Quieter this time.
I can’t deal with this.
Not now.
Not like this.
Not here.
Please.
Serena composed herself.
It was
easier now that he had left the bathroom.
Normally she was so strong but she just couldn’t stand up to this
man.
She was contemplating getting out
of the bath but she felt safer in the deep water.
After only a minute or two, he returned with
a small pile of clothes and a towel and left them on a dresser next to the
bath.
“Get dressed.
We need to talk.” He
said quietly and left her alone.
She bathed slowly, in no rush to face the storm she was sure was brewing
down stairs.
Seriously Serena.
He
owes you nothing and you owe him nothing.
You were ready to raise this child on your own this morning.
Nothing has changed.
He will probably be relieved that you
expected no accountability from him.
Yup.
You’re
going to get a grip and deal with this like a grown up.
As much as you have always wanted him, you’ve
never had him and never will.
Grow a
pair!
Her skin was pink and tingly from the hot water.
She vigorously rubbed it dry.
She looked through the pile he had left on
the bench.
A pair of warm hiking socks,
a pair of boxer shorts, a large white T-shirt and a long knitted pull
over.
Comfy.
She dressed quietly, the smell of Sandalwood on the soft wool of the
pullover not going unnoticed.
She then
looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.
Perhaps I should leave him
something to remember me by!
She rifled through the well stocked vanity unit and found a hair brush,
some blush and lip gloss and a few other interesting tubs and bottles.
Five minutes later she was ready.
Chapter
forty two
He stood in front of the fire, deep in thought, a glass of Aida’s brandy
taking the edge off the throbbing behind his eyes.
He saw her sock clad feet first.
Slender pink knees followed and then the hem
of his jumper hiding the best bits of her thighs.
By the time she reached the bottom of the
stairs, he had drained the glass.
Her
hair was smooth and shining and fell past her shoulders to rest on the gentle
mounds of her breasts.
The colour had
returned to her face and her lips were full and shining and totally
kissable.
Marco shifted to make the
erection in his tight jeans a little more comfortable.
He hoped she wouldn’t notice.
Shit.
This would be easier if he wasn’t so
attractive.
She drew herself up trying to get a tall as possible and walked
seductively over to the sofa.
She slid
into the deep cushions, draping her legs over one armrest, ankles crossed and
knees slightly bent.
Leaning her
shoulders against the other armrest she lifted her arms and brushed both hands
through her hair, freeing it to fall loosely down the side of the soft suede
upholstery.
The movement of her arms
had shifted the hem of the Pull over up her thighs, giving Marco a tantalising
peek at the edge of his boxers which encased all the parts of her he wished he
could encase among other things.
Marco watched her little show in growing astonishment.
She was flirting with him!
“You wanted to talk?”
She asked,
watching him through her lashes.
He had changed his clothes and stood in front of her, both his bare feet
squarely planted on the floor.
His bare
chest glowed darkly in the firelight.
Both his hands were now tucked deeply in the pockets of dark blue cargo
pants.
Thank god he isn’t wearing his
jeans.
“When were you going to tell me about my child?”
He was only just managing to control his voice.
Suddenly a little unsure of herself she placed a trembling hand over her
belly.
“My child!
Is that all you wanted to talk about?”
He looked around the room looking for inspiration, strength, controlled,
something.
He found nothing.
Swiftly he pulled the coffee table closer to
her and sat on the edge facing her.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” she asked moving her hand slowly from her belly to her
breast.
She needed to distract him from
her child.
She didn’t want to discuss
her little person with Marco right now, or any other time for that matter.
She brought one knee a little further up, allowing
the flickering light of the fire, caress it gently, her finger tips brushing
the top of one breast slowly.
“Christ Serena.
Stop it.”
He planted his elbows on his knees, burying
his head in his hands.
“Okay.” Her hand paused.
“What
would you like me to do now?
Tell me
Marco.”
It was too much for him.
He dropped off the table onto his knees in
front of her.
“Is this really what you want to do?”
He pleaded.
“Yes.” She said tapping a little rhythm with her finger tips on her
breast.
God it’s great to be back in
control.
I had no idea.
“Are you going to run again?”
What?
“Serena if you are going to run again then this can’t happen, and God you
have no idea how much I want you right now.
I am laying out my soul here.”
Serena felt her control slipping again.
She did want him.
Badly.
He looked so
sincere.
No matter how much he had hurt
her, she didn’t have the heart to hurt him back.
Sighing she sat upright in the chair, pulling
the hem of the pullover over her knees.
“I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted Marco.
I can’t be a part time plaything.
Useful in the sack, but
unloved and despised outside of it.”
He took one of her hands and sandwiched it between his.
It was small and soft.
He turned it over and ran a finger tip around
her palm.
“Serena, I know I have a reputation, thanks to Michelle and the
press.
But I’m not that person.
I don’t do part time.
At least not very
well,
or convincingly.”
Unable to keep calm with his fingers causing havoc against her skin, and
his close proximity, Serena scrambled off the chair, and tried to regain her
composure in front of the fire.
“Marco you hurt me very badly once.
I know how you really feel about me so there is no point in trying to
beg your way into my pants again.
Er your pants.”
She
said remembering the boxers she was wearing.
This is pointless and not going to
plan.
Her eyes were brimming with tears again.
Marco stood behind her.
She could
feel the warmth of his body even though they weren’t touching.
It was electrifying.
“You’re going to have to explain how I hurt you, because I don’t think I
was there at the time.”
He whispered
against her neck as he drew the lobe of her ear gently into his mouth.
She sucked in an uneven breath.
Gently with one finger he swept her hair from
her neck.
His warm breath caressed her
neck and unwittingly her head tilted giving him better access.
Serena was no longer capable of reasonable thought.
She couldn’t think of a single reason why his
touch would be wrong or why giving into it would be so bad. She leaned back
against him.
His lips trailed down her
neck, excruciatingly slowly.
When he
stopped and lifted his head Serena missed his touch so much she was sure she
was going to die.
Chapter
forty three
Gently he turned her to face him.
She inhaled Sandalwood and her eyes closed to savour the fragrance.
To lock it’s essence in her memory.
With one finger under her chin he raised her
face to meet his.
His lips were warm and
soft and gentle.
Very
gentle.
She felt his finger move
from her chin along her jaw to her ear and the whole hand joined in the caress.
His long fingers threaded through her hair
while his thumb gently brushed a tear from the corner of her eyes.
His lips moved slowly on hers.
Coaxing them.
Soothing them.
Willing them to surrender.
Assuring her it would be alright.
She held out the white flag and let him
in.
Her hands found the smooth surface
of his ribs and moved to the firm spread of his back.
As his tongue found hers and made proper
introductions, the junction at the root of her thighs exploded with heat.
Her knees quivered as his kiss deepened and
then stopped.
Her eyes flew open to find
his gazing into hers with longing.
Is he actually asking my
permission?
Serena pulled his body closer, still gazing into his eyes, willing him to
understand as she pressed her hips into his, feeling his erection through the
thick fabric of his trousers.
She needed
to get closer.
She lifted one leg,
curling it around his hip and pushed herself up on her remaining toes.
Her hips had tilted now allowing her to feel
the full length of his erection right where it matters the most.
Marco slid his hand from her face, letting
his fingers flit down her back to cup the gentle curve of her buttock.
It paused briefly to give it a slight squeeze
before letting it run along her thigh to hold it in place against his hip.
Their gaze still
unwavering.
“Don’t run” he
whispered.
“Don’t make me.”
she whispered back.
Sweeping his hand back up her thigh and over her hip, he swept the
T-shirt and pullover up her body as one, his other hand joining forces to
help.
Planting both her
feet on the floor again Serena let him go and raised
her arms above her head.
Following her
lead he swept the offending garments over her head and dropped them on the
floor.
She stood calmly and allowed him
to study her almost naked form.
His gaze
took in each handful of her rounded breasts, the pert nipples standing to
attention, awaiting instructions.
His
gaze moved slowly south, resting on the very small, almost imperceptible mound
cradled snugly in the confine of her pelvis.
In wonder he knelt down in front of her.
Pulling her closer grazed the small bump tenderly with his lips and
gazed up at her face again.
Her
expression was unreadable, but she didn’t move.
Slowly he trailed a line of kisses along the elastic of his boxers.
Gently he tugged the cotton down, caressing
her legs in its wake.
Leaning back on
his knees he studied his creation in the soft light of the fire.
She now stood before him totally naked like
his very own personal roman goddess.
Serena was completely lost to all thought processes.
Her exposed naked skin was alive.
Hot and cold, tingling and
numb.
Damp boiled within her,
lathering her in expectation while desire course through her veins like hot
lead.