‘Can you feel that, cara? Can you feel how I want you? Always,’ he murmured, his eyes softening, ‘every minute of every day,’ and then he lowered his head, his hands cradling her face, just as the lift pinged a warning.
He wrenched his head up and moved away, slid his hand down her arm and threaded his fingers through hers, nodded to the people waiting to go up and walked with her briskly out of the lift, across the central foyer and into the consulting room area.
He pulled his lanyard out of his pocket, swiped the security lock with the magnetic card and opened the doors, then pushed the nearest consulting room door open and ushered her through it.
She heard it click shut, then nothing, just the suspense that swirled around them in the air and robbed her brain of oxygen.
What did he want from her?
A deep, slow sigh cut through the silence and she heard the examination couch creak behind her as he sat on it.
‘What do we do, Alice?’ he asked, his voice low and, oh, so sexy, unravelling her rigid self-control and leaving her open and vulnerable.
‘I don’t know. What do you want from me, Marco?’
He laughed softly, and the sound teased her nerve endings and sent shivers of need through her body. ‘I have no idea. Well, I have, but that’s not going to happen, we both know that.’
Was that regret in his voice? She couldn’t tell without looking into his eyes, so she turned and searched them, and then wished she hadn’t because the humour, the teasing that seemed to dance almost permanently in them was gone, leaving something far more dangerous to her self-control and peace of mind.
Desire, white-hot and irresistible. She swallowed and took a step back, bumping into the desk and sitting down abruptly on the edge of it before her legs gave out.
‘So what do we do?’
He laughed again, a wry huff of sound that unravelled her a little further, then met her eyes again.
‘I don’t know, but I know we can’t go on like this, fighting all the time about nothing and dancing round the elephant in the room. I want you, Alice, and I don’t seem to be able to put that on one side, and I don’t think you can, either.’
His eyes held her, the need in them so openly expressed she was in no doubt about it. He wasn’t toying with her. He really meant it, and his words had so accurately expressed her own feelings that she felt as if he could see into her soul.
He was right. She couldn’t put it on one side, couldn’t ignore it any longer. Didn’t want to ignore it any longer.
As if he saw the moment she crumbled, he held out his hand silently, and she stood up, her legs shaking, and walked over to him, taking his hand and letting him draw her up against him, standing between his legs as he was propped on the edge of the couch, his warmth enclosing her.
He raised a hand and traced the line of her jaw, lifting a stray lock of hair away and tucking it back behind her ear. The caress was so tender, so gentle that it made her want to cry. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like that, as if she was something precious and fragile. If ever...
She met his eyes again, and he stared into hers for an age, then drew her nearer, lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.
She moaned softly against his mouth, parting her lips to him, and she felt his hands cradle her cheeks as he deepened the kiss. She met him touch for touch, stroke for stroke, their tongues searching, duelling.
They always duelled, but not like this, not—
‘Marco...’
‘I want you, Alice,’ he groaned softly. ‘Tell me you want me, too.’
‘No—yes—Marco, I—’
‘Alice, you’re killing me...’
He kissed her again, his lips coaxing, trailing fire down her throat, over her shoulders, in that delicate, sensitive place behind her ear. She arched her neck to give him better access, his name a sob in her throat. ‘Marco...’
‘Tell me, Alice,’ he said, his voice low, scraping over her senses like gravel and bringing everything to life. ‘Tell me you want me. Tell me you want this, too, before I go crazy—’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes, I want you. I want you...’
He muttered something in Italian and his hands reached down, bunching up her dress as his mouth plundered hers and his body rocked against her, pressing her up against him. She could feel his hands on her skin, cradling her bottom, sliding up around her waist as he lifted her easily and turned, settling her on the edge of the examination couch where he had been.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly against her, the pressure building as her fingers found the ends of his bow tie and tugged it undone. She couldn’t do the buttons, her fingers were shaking too much, and with a little scream of frustration she ripped his shirt open, her nails raking down his chest in the process.
‘Dio, Alice—’
He buried his hands in her hair and rocked against her, his body tight against her most intimate places as his mouth took hers again, his tongue searching, delving, and she wanted him closer. Needed him closer. Needed him...
‘I want you,’ she said, her breath hissing out between her teeth. ‘Marco, please, now. I want you—’
He swore softly and pulled away a fraction. ‘Don’t move.’
She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, the breath shuddering out of her body as he let her go and stepped away, and she clenched her legs together against the raging need and waited. She could hear him doing something, heard the snap of a wallet, the soft rasp of a zip, a slight rustle.
A condom. Of all the tragic ironies. She nearly laughed, only it wasn’t funny. He didn’t need it—except to protect her and himself from the other unintended consequences of random sex. Nothing else...
She opened her eyes and moaned again, her body throbbing with need as she reached for him, gripping the firm shaft of his erection and sliding her hand down it, unrolling the condom along its length. He swore softly in Italian and eased away the scrap of silk that passed for her underwear, his hips nudging her legs apart again as he slid his fingers deep inside her.
She gasped and tried to clench her legs together to quell the waves of sensation but there was no way because he was there, his body filling her at last, making her sob with need as he thrust into her, slowly at first and then faster, harder, again and again, his hands cradling her bottom and holding her tight against him, rocking as her control splintered into pieces and she convulsed around him.
He caught her cry in his mouth, his body tensing, shuddering with the force of his climax, and then as it passed he let out a long, fractured sigh, dropped his head against her shoulder and cradled her close, his mouth against her ear murmuring soft words she didn’t understand.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Her body was a seething mass of sensation so intense that even now she could feel the shockwaves rippling through her, and as he finally eased away she couldn’t look at him.
What had she done?
She’d never felt like that. Never responded like that, so wildly, so spontaneously, so freely it had felt like she was flying.
Not now, though. Not any more.
Now she’d come down to earth with a bump, crippled with self-consciousness, and she slid off the edge of the couch, rescued her underwear from the floor and pulled it on hastily. As she tugged her dress straight with shaking hands, she felt