Castellano's Mistress of Revenge (11 page)

His fingers coiled her hair like a rope, bringing her inexorably closer. He felt her breath on his face, the fresh mint and womanly essence of her making his groin instantly swell with blood. He rubbed up against her, letting her know how she was affecting him, gauging her reaction.

She looked up at him with widening pupils, her soft lips slightly apart, and her breathing rate gradually increasing. Her breasts were jammed against his chest, the tight buds of her nipples detectable through the fabric of his shirt. The feel of her feminine mound so close to his erection was mind-blowing. He ached to feel her slick, tight body enclose him, to take all of him inside her, each and every one of her inner muscles rippling and clenching as he thrust into her.

He slowly released the tie that bound her hair, letting it fall in a fragrant cloud around her shoulders. Without saying a word he lifted the bottom of her tank top. She put her arms up, her breasts full and rosy-peaked as he lifted the top over her head and tossed it to one side.

Her eyes meshed with his, the want, the need, the expectation he could see reflected there so like what he was feeling it momentarily stopped him in his tracks. It had always been like this from the first time they had
met. Her eyes had fascinated him, their smoky-grey and blue-flame depths had captivated him, luring him into a sensual orbit he had never been able to escape. He wore the memory of her body on his skin. It was like a perfume he couldn't wash away. No one else before or since had affected him as she did. Her femininity, the dainty softness and yet athletic strength of her excited him.

The air of mystery about her now made her all the more irresistible. There were secrets in the moving shadows of her eyes, things he had not seen before but was now determined to uncover.

Marc ran his hands down Ava's slim waist to settle on her hips, holding her against his pulsing heat. He realised with a twinge of regret this was not the time for an inquisition. He knew enough about her to know if he pushed too hard she would clam up; her defiant streak would come to the fore, leaving him with a host of doubts to torture him into the long hours of the night.

Ava felt a sudden shift in mood and looked up at Marc with a mixture of wariness and uncertainty. She self-consciously crossed her arms over her breasts. ‘Is something…wrong?'

The faraway look fell away from his gaze like heavy velvet curtains dropping in one quick movement over a stage. ‘Nothing is wrong,
ma petite
,' he said and released his hold. He reached into his trouser pocket and handed her a long, thin jeweller's box. ‘I bought something for you while I was away.'

Ava looked at the designer's name inscribed on the box and felt her heart give a little flutter. She had looked in that particular jeweller's many times, but it was the
sort of place where price stickers were never placed in the shop front windows. She had no idea how much Marc had spent, but, putting her modesty aside for a moment, she opened the box to find an exquisitely beautiful diamond pendant, so fine and so delicate she knew the price would have been in at least six figures. ‘I…I don't know what to say…' she faltered. ‘It's beautiful…'

‘Here,' he said, taking the box from her. ‘Let me put it on you.'

She turned around, her skin shivering in reaction as his fingers brushed against her neck to fasten the pendant's clasp. He placed his hands on her shoulders again and turned her back to face him. The diamond rested just above her naked breasts, making her ache to feel his touch.

‘Perfect,' he said, his eyes dark and intense as they held hers. ‘The glitter of the diamond reminds me of your eyes when you are angry.'

Ava bit down on her bottom lip as she covered her breasts with her folded arms again. ‘I guess it would look better if I was wearing something more glamorous than my oldest pyjamas.'

‘I think it would look better if you were wearing nothing at all,' he said and untying her arms from across her body, scooped her into his arms as if she were a quarter of her weight.

‘Marc, put me down. I'm—'

‘At least five kilograms lighter than you were when we were together in the past,' he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. ‘You are obviously not eating enough for all the activity you do.'

‘You don't know anything about the activity I do,' Ava said, scowling, as he carried her through to the master suite.

His dark eyes lasered hers as he set her down in front of him, her body still pressed up against the warm sexiness of his. ‘No, you are right,
tesora mia
,' he said with an inscrutable look. ‘I know very little about your activities. Perhaps when there is an appropriate time you can tell me all about them,
sì
?'

Ava shifted her gaze from the laser beam of his to her hands, lying flat against his broad chest. She could feel the beating of his heart under her right palm, the
thump thump thump
so steady compared to her erratically skipping one.

Marc tipped up her face, making her look at him. ‘I've missed you,
ma belle
. I have got used to you snapping at me. Tragic, isn't it?'

‘Then why didn't you call me so I could snap at you on the phone?' Ava asked, looking into the black depths of his eyes, feeling herself melting as his lips curved upwards in a half-smile.

‘I like to see you when I speak to you,' he said, bending down to press a light, brief kiss to her lips. ‘I also like to feel you tremble beneath my touch.'

She pressed her lips together, tasting him, tasting the promise of passion that was brewing like a storm approaching. She felt it in his body, the surge of his flesh against her reminding her of how suddenly things could get out of hand. A kiss was never just a kiss with Marc; it was a prelude to a sensual onslaught that would leave her tingling for hours later. Her body was already preparing itself, the moisture of arousal hot and wet be
tween her thighs, the persistent ache of her breasts for his touch and the heavy pulse of longing that made her feel hollow and empty inside.

He took her hands from his chest and, turning them over, kissed each open palm in turn, his eyes still holding hers. She shivered each time his tongue dabbed at the very centre of her palm, an erotic mimic of what was to come.

His hands released hers to undo the buttons of his shirt. Ava lifted her hands to explore his tanned chest as each part of it was revealed: the sculptured pectoral muscles, the tightly coiled ridges of his erectus abdominus, trailing her fingertips through the sprinkling of masculine hair that arrowed down to disappear beneath the waistband of his trousers.

‘Touch me,' he commanded softly, urgently.

Ava's heart gave a sideways movement as she saw the naked need in his glinting eyes. She undid his waistband, rolling down his zip over the proud bulge of his manhood, her fingers impatient to feel him skin on skin.

He shrugged himself out of his shirt and, heeling off his shoes, stepped out of his trousers as they slid to the floor, leaving only his black underwear. Ava traced him through the tented fabric, teasing him, watching as he sucked in a breath to keep control. She became more daring, slowly peeling back the fabric, allowing him the freedom he craved, cupping him and then making a circle with her fingers, moving up and down his shaft in a rhythmic motion that she knew he would not be able to tolerate for long.

‘Mon Dio
, no more,' he groaned, dragging her hand away.

She lifted one of her fingers to her mouth, her eyes holding his, tasting him, watching as his throat moved up and down as he fought to contain himself. She loved seeing him like this, fighting the rampant flames of his desire for her while she slowly but surely burned in anticipation.

He snatched in another breath and reached for her pyjama bottoms, almost wrenching them down her legs in his impatience. ‘You are the only woman on this planet who can do this to me, do you know that,
ma belle
?' he asked, nuzzling at the side of her neck where every nerve seemed to be calling out for his attention.

‘How do you know that if you haven't been with every woman on the planet?' she asked, shivering as his tongue found the shell of her ear.

‘Don't talk,' he said, sucking on her earlobe. ‘I just want you to feel.'

Ava felt her spine slowly unhinge as he worked his way to her breasts, the moment when his mouth closed over her right nipple making her gasp out loud. He did the same to her other breast, sucking and circling her with his tongue until the flesh was achingly tight and pulsating with sensation.

He pushed her down on the bed, gently but in a primal alpha-male manner that made her skin tingle in delight. He opened the bedside drawer and took out a condom, ripping open the packet and applying it with a deftness she could only assume came from extensive practice, a thought that was as painful as it was unwelcome.

Marc looked at her questioningly, obviously picking up some nuance on her face she hadn't been able to
disguise in time. ‘As much as I would like to do this bareback, Ava, I don't want to have to deal with the consequences if an accident should occur.'

Ava felt her heart contract, as if it were suddenly jammed between two house bricks. ‘It's quite all right,' she said, injecting her voice with just the right amount of nonchalance. ‘I don't want any accidents either.'

His eyes stayed on hers a fraction longer than she was comfortable with. It felt as if he was peeling back her skin, looking at her innermost desires, one by one.

‘Things are different now,' he said. ‘You understand that,
sì
?'

She nodded and reached for him again, stroking the sheathed length of him, watching as his face contorted with the effort of holding back his response.

He nudged her thighs apart, one of his legs going over one of hers in an erotic tangle of limbs that awakened every nerve in her body in feverish excitement. He plunged into her, so deeply she winced, her fingers digging into his flanks to anchor herself as the unexpected pain gradually subsided.

She felt him check himself, coming up on his elbows to look down at her, a frown narrowing the distance between his impossibly dark eyes. ‘I should have used some lubricant,' he said. ‘Did I hurt you?'

Ava felt it then, it took her completely by surprise, but then just about everything about Marc these days took her by surprise. She hadn't expected her love for him to survive how he had handled their break-up; she hadn't expected her love for him to survive his ruthless demands and conditions…she hadn't expected her love for him to come back with such intensity she could feel
it fill the aching emptiness of her soul like water filling a dam after a flash flood.

‘Ava?'

She gave herself a mental shake and gazed into his eyes. ‘Make love to me, Marc,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, as if he was waiting for something.

She placed her hands around his neck and pulled his mouth down to just above hers. ‘Please?' she said.

‘It will be my pleasure,' he said huskily and covered her mouth with his.

H
IS
kiss was like fire against Ava's lips, his tongue a sword of flame that burned her with each stab and thrust. She met his demands with feverish ones of her own, nipping at him with her teeth, sucking on his lower lip, pulling and releasing, teasing him, daring him to let his passion off the leash. She felt him straining to keep control, the tension building in his body as he re-entered her, slowly this time, waiting for her to stretch to accommodate him, her own silky moisture easing each of his movements within her.

His rhythm gradually picked up its pace, gently at first, but as she kept pace he moved on with increasing intensity, the friction against her sensitive nerves making her quiver in response. She could feel the way her body assembled all its feeling into one tightly budded point, the release she so desperately craved just out of her reach. She whimpered against his mouth as it kissed hers with tantalising thoroughness. She arched her spine, pushing her hips up to meet the downward thrust of his, but it seemed he was going to make her wait a little longer.

‘Marc…' Her voice was a breathless whisper of sound. ‘Please…oh, please…don't make me wait any longer…'

He increased his pace, his breathing hard as she urged him on with her hands and fingers pressed into his buttocks. The rocking of their bodies thrilled her, the way they fitted together so neatly. His hair-roughened limbs were such an erotic contrast to the creamy smoothness of hers, the strength of his taut muscles as they bunched beneath her touch making her breath catch in her throat. The pressure inside her was building up to a crescendo. She could feel every deep thrust of his send ripples of delight throughout her body. Her breasts were almost flattened beneath the pressure of his chest but she loved the scratchy feel of his masculine hair against her softness. It reminded her of how she used to trail her fingertips through it in the past, circling each of his hard flat nipples, kissing her way down to the throbbing heat of him until he exploded with passion.

Ava shifted restively beneath him, needing him to bring her to the ultimate moment, but too shy to ask. She felt him smile against her mouth as he reached down between their bodies, finding the core of her with heart-stopping accuracy, his fingers working at her, stroking slowly, gradually building his pace and pressure until she was gasping out loud. She was so close, agonisingly so, but suspended, hanging, dangling over a precipice so high it was terrifying.

‘Let go,
cara,
' Marc coaxed gently. ‘Come for me.'

‘I can't,' she cried, writhing beneath him, her head thrashing about in frustration.

He stilled her with the cup of his palm against her cheek. ‘Hey, look at me,' he commanded softly. ‘It's me, Marc. You know how to do this—we've done this many, many times before,
sì
? Why should this time be any different?'

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her teeth biting into her lower lip, before she mumbled as her gaze fell away, ‘I know…but it's…it's different now…'

‘How is it different?' he said, slowly stroking her again. ‘I have not forgotten a thing about your body. I don't think I ever will forget how you respond to me.'

She choked back a little gasp and he increased the pressure ever so slightly, watching as she rode the wave right to the top before finally free-falling. She cried out, a high, keening cry that sent shivers cascading down his spine. He felt her body spasm and convulse around him, sending him mad with the desire to let go, but he waited until her release had faded.

‘There,' he said, smiling. ‘I knew you could do it. You just needed to relax and to trust me.'

She looked at him in wonderment, her eyes still glazed with passion, her creamy chest a rosy hue, signalling how intense her release had been. She reached up and touched him on the face, her fingers a light caress that made Marc wonder if she had not experienced pleasure with anyone since him. Had she been celibate for five long years? Had no other lover touched her? It was a surreal feeling to think he had been the last person to bring her pleasure. That she had not sought it elsewhere, even whilst married to Cole, as so many women in her place would have done. It made him wonder all over again why she had agreed to such
a marriage. If she was of such integrity why then had she been bought for a price like the gold-digging opportunist the Press had made her out to be? Was there something he
still
didn't know about her reasons for marrying Cole? He had searched and searched and yet he still felt as if a part of the puzzle was missing. It annoyed him, like a grass seed in his sock. He kept looking for it but no matter how much it pricked him he couldn't locate it.

‘Marc?' Ava traced her fingers over the flattened line of his mouth. ‘Is something wrong?'

He rolled away from her, lying on his back to stare blankly at the ceiling.

Ava felt her stomach cave in, wondering if she had disappointed him in some way. His erection had subsided and she knew it wasn't because he had come. She knew him well enough to know the signs and she had been waiting for them, waiting for that pressure-cooker-like tension, the way his body would go rigid before pumping his way through his release. She felt cheated, even though she'd had the best, most intense orgasm of her life. She reached out and touched his chest, her palm flat against his sternum. ‘Did I do something wrong?' she asked.

He turned his head sideways to look at her, his dark eyes fathomless. ‘No,' he said after what seemed a lifetime. He turned his head back and stared at the ceiling again, releasing a long and raspy-sounding sigh. ‘It's not you, it's me.'

Ava pulled in a breath that felt as if it had barbs attached. She felt so unsure of herself. In the past if something like this had happened she would have seen
to matters with her lips and tongue or even her hand and he would have been back in business within seconds.

She moved her hand experimentally, but as if he sensed her intentions, one of his came over it and stilled it.

‘No,' he said, releasing her hand as he got off the bed. ‘I'm not in the mood right now. Sorry.'

Ava felt assailed by doubts and insecurities. He had never spurned any of her advances in the past. Was he already tiring of her? She shrank back on the bed, pulling at the sheet to cover her nakedness. She watched as he silently dressed, each of his movements mechanical, as if his mind was elsewhere.

After he had disposed of the condom he turned and looked at her, his expression as unreadable as a blank sheet of paper. ‘Maybe it is best if we keep to separate bedrooms,' he said, ‘for the time being at least.'

Ava swallowed thickly, her heart feeling as if he had kicked it aside with one of his strongly boned feet. She moistened her lips, feeling vulnerable and perilously close to tears. ‘If that's what you want,' she managed to say without a tremor in her voice.

He ran his hands through the thick pelt of his hair, leaving deep, finger-size trails. His jaw was moving beneath his skin, as if he was silently rehearsing the words before he got them out.

Ava held her breath, waiting for the words she dreaded. He was finished with her. He had set out what he hoped to achieve. He had extracted his revenge, he had made her beg. Well, she had well and truly done that, she thought with a scalding wave of shame. He couldn't have timed it better. Just when she realised she
still loved him and would stay with him on any terms he was going to end it.

It was finished.

Over.

Finito.

The end.

‘At the time of your marriage, or at any time leading up to it, did you know Cole was bidding for the same contract as me?' he asked, pinning her with his hawk-like gaze.

Ava moistened her lips, her mouth so dry she had to do it twice before she could speak. ‘I know you will find this hard to believe, but I didn't know he was making a bid on the Dubai thing. I knew very little about that arm of his business at that point. I don't think he wanted me to know. I know that sounds terribly naïve of me, but it's the truth. By the time I found out about it I had already accepted his offer and signed a contract. I had no choice but to stick with it. I had already used some of the money.'

His expression revealed nothing to show he either believed or disbelieved her. ‘So you married him and moved to Monte Carlo and lived as his wife, allowing everyone to think—including your sister—you were his wife in every sense of the word.'

Ava lowered her gaze. ‘Serena knew the truth…about why I married Douglas…'

The room seemed to take a breath and hold it in the silence.

‘And what was the reason, or am I to play twenty questions for the next hour or two?' Marc asked.

She pulled the sheet a little tighter around her body
as she got off the bed and slowly raised her eyes to his. ‘Because…' Her tongue darted out to sweep over her lips. ‘Because I did it for her.'

Marc felt as it something had just slipped into place, making him feel a heavy, clunking sensation somewhere in the middle of his chest. He stared at her for another stretching silence, mentally shuffling through possible scenarios, none of them making him feel particularly comfortable. ‘Why?' he asked, surprised at how hoarse he sounded.

Ava felt under siege. His questioning technique would have put a professional interrogator to shame. She felt a river of perspiration roll drop by drop between her shoulder blades to pool at the base of her spine, which was currently doing a very poor job of keeping her legs upright and steady.
Forgive me, Serena
, she silently pleaded.
I had to tell him some time. How could I let this continue indefinitely, especially when I love him so?
The words were spinning around her head, making her feel dazed. She hoped he would keep it to himself. She had put her trust in him; maybe it was foolish to do so, but after making love with him she had felt so vulnerable, so desperate for him to understand and find it in himself to forgive her for the past.

‘Answer the question, Ava,' he said.

Ava slowly raised her chin, even though her insides were quaking. ‘She'd made a mistake in the books. It was because of her inexperience. It was her first real job. She was only eighteen and had never done any bookkeeping before. Douglas accused her of stealing. She panicked. I panicked. I went to see him on her
behalf…' She bit her lip as if the memory upset her. ‘I begged him not to press charges…'

Marc felt as if a giant hand had gripped his intestines. ‘So he offered you a way to get your sister off the hook.'

She nodded, her features contorted in a grimace. ‘It was the only way to pay back the money that had gone missing. I had no one else to turn to. Our father and stepmother wouldn't have helped either of us. I was so worried about Serena. She's not like me. She's fragile. I felt I had to protect her. I still feel I have to protect her.' She gave him a pleading look. ‘Please, you mustn't tell anyone about this. Not even Richard knows.'

‘Did you ever think to approach me for help?' Marc asked, not quite able to take the edge of bitterness out of his tone.

She gave a sigh that involved her whole body. ‘I thought of it, but you hadn't contacted me since I had left the apartment. Then just as I was about to call you I read about you in one of the papers. You were dating again. I saw the photo of you with her. She was very beautiful.' She gave him a look that made his insides clench even more. ‘Dark and exotic…nothing at all like me.'

Marc swore viciously in both Italian and French. ‘You little fool,' he said roughly. ‘I was only using her to make you jealous. Little did I know that less than a week or two later you would be married to someone else.'

She looked away, but he was almost certain he had seen the sheen of tears in her eyes. He took a steadying breath, trying to think, trying to clear the cloud of confusion and regret and recrimination inside his head.

‘Our relationship,' he said after a moment. ‘This thing we have going on between us…'

‘What exactly is going on between us, Marc?' she asked. ‘Blackmail, that's what. This is all wrong and you know it. It's been wrong from the start.'

‘I can make it right,' he said, seriously wondering if he could. ‘We could start afresh. We can forget about the past. We can pretend we've just met for the first time.'

She shook her head at him. ‘Another game, Marc?' she said. ‘Well, let me tell you something. I am tired of rich men's games.'

He frowned at her. ‘This is not a game to me, Ava. I want you in my life. I thought I had made that clear.'

‘Yes, you've made it very clear. The trouble is, I don't like the terms,' she said, and giving him an embittered look, marched past him to leave, her slim body encased like a small Egyptian mummy in the bed sheet. It heeded her progress, which was just as well, as his mind was working so slowly she might have got away before he could put his hand out to block her.

‘Ava, wait,' he said, taking her hands in his. She had such tiny hands, he felt them fluttering inside the cage of his, like small, frightened sparrows.

He cleared his throat, trying to find the words to say what needed to be said. ‘I didn't know all the facts before. What you've told me…well, it makes a world of difference. We can work it out,
cara
. Somehow we'll work it out.'

Her slim brows rose. ‘Isn't it a bit late to right the wrongs of the past?' She clenched her teeth and added, ‘One phone call from you and none of this would have
happened. Do you realise that? One phone call. It's been
five
years, Marc. Five years of my life have gone and I can't have them back.'

‘I know how long it has been,' he said heavily. God, he had felt every bitter second of them eating away at him. Why had he allowed his pride to do such damage? Why hadn't he gone to her? To think he might have prevented the last five years of hell, not just his, but hers, with just one phone call or a text or a simple e-mail was like mental torture. Why had he let his father's experience dominate his life to such a degree? And how could he ever turn things around? She hated him and had every right to for that and that alone. How could he expect her to ignore the past and move on? She had told him she had been friends with Cole, but what if that hadn't always been the case? What if she had suffered at his hands—maybe not physically, but what about emotionally? Marc knew all about the way people could destroy each other with emotional abuse. He had seen it happen before his very eyes; the stripping away of self-esteem and loss of power had devastated his father and flowed on to him, leaving him with wounds that still tugged at him deep inside like scar tissue.