luxury. I’m not used to it.’
‘You should get used to it, then. This is the life you would have had, Sierra. The life you deserve.’
She paused, a croissant halfway to her mouth, and met his gaze. ‘The life I would have had? You mean if I’d married you?’ She spoke softly, hesitant to dredge up the past once again and yet needing to know. Did Marco wish things had been different? Did she?
‘If you’d married anyone,’ Marco said after a pause. ‘Someone of your father’s choosing, of your family’s station.’
‘You think I should have married someone of my father’s choosing?’
‘I think you should have married me.’
Her insides jolted so hard she felt as if she’d missed the last step in a staircase. ‘Even now?’ she whispered.
Marco glanced away. ‘Who can say what would have happened, how things would have been? The reality is you chose not to, and we’ve both become different people as a result.’
But people who could find their way back to each other. The words hovered on her lips but Sierra didn’t say them. What were they really talking about here? A fling, a relationship, or just what might have been? She didn’t know what she felt or wanted
‘Ah, here we are,’ Marco said, and Sierra turned to see the limo pull up to an exclusive-looking boutique on Fifth Avenue. She stuffed the rest of her croissant into her mouth as he jumped out of the limo. She swallowed quickly and then took his hand as he led her out of the car and into the boutique.
Several assistants came towards them quickly and Sierra glanced around at the crystal chandeliers, the white velvet sofas, the marble floor. There seemed to be very few pieces of clothing on display. And she felt underdressed to go shopping, which seemed ridiculous, but she could not deny the svelte blonde assistants were making her feel dowdy.
But then Marco turned to her, his eyes lit up as his warm, approving gaze rested on her. ‘And now,’ he said, tugging her towards him, ‘the fun begins.’
MARCO STRETCHED OUT on the sofa, handling business calls while Sierra tried on outfit after outfit, shyly pirouetting in front of him in each one. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time than watch Sierra model clothes. Actually, he could. He’d like to spend his time taking the clothes off her.
She’d started with modest day outfits, but even tailored skirts and crisp blouses sent his heart rate skyrocketing. He wanted to slip those pearl buttons from their holes and part the silky fabric to see the even silkier skin beneath. He wanted to shimmy that pencil skirt off her slim hips.
Instead he issued a terse command to the fawning assistant. ‘We’ll take them all.’
Sierra was in the dressing room and didn’t hear him; a few minutes later she came out, frowning uncertainly. ‘I think maybe that blue shift dress might be the best choice...’
‘You can decide later,’ Marco answered indulgently. It amused him that Sierra thought he was going to be satisfied by simply buying her a single outfit. What kind of man did she think he was?
A man who was falling in love with her.
The words froze inside him, turned everything to ice. He couldn’t be falling in love. He didn’t do love. He’d seen what it had done to his mother. He’d felt what it had done to him. Waiting for someone who wasn’t going to come back, who didn’t feel the same way. His mother. Sierra. And he hadn’t even loved Sierra, back then. Did he want to set himself up for an even harder fall?
No, he was not falling in love with her. He was just enjoying himself. And yes, he might be thinking about what might have been; it was damned hard not to. Seeing Sierra in her element, where she belonged, every inch the Rocci heiress, her desire shining in her eyes...how could he not think about it?
‘What do you think about this one?’ Sierra emerged from the dressing room in an evening gown, a blush touching her cheeks. Marco stared at her, his whole body going rigid. The dress was a long, elegant column of grey-blue silk that matched her eyes perfectly. A diamanté belt encircled her narrow waist, and her hair was loose and tousled about her shoulders.
Marco couldn’t even think when he saw her in that dress. ‘We’ll take it.’ He bit the words out gruffly, and Sierra’s eyes widened.
‘But if you don’t like it...’
‘I like it.’ From the corner of his eye Marco saw an assistant smile behind her hand. ‘Please go wrap up the other outfits,’ he barked and she melted back into the boutique, leaving them alone.
‘The other outfits?’ Sierra frowned. ‘But I thought you were just buying the blue dress.’
‘You thought wrong.’ He stalked towards her and to his satisfaction he could see a pulse begin to hammer in her throat. ‘I’m buying them all, Sierra. I want to see you in them all.’
She pressed a hand to her fluttering pulse as she swallowed convulsively. ‘There are a few more evening gowns to try on...’
‘And I want you to try them on. But I think I’d better help you with the zipper on that dress.’
Her eyes had gone huge, as blue and glassy as twin mountain lakes. Her pink lips parted, and when her tongue darted out to moisten them, Marco groaned.
‘The assistant...’ she murmured and he shook his head, everything in him demanding that he touch her. Now.
‘Is gone. I’ll do it.’ Gently but purposefully, he pushed her back into the dressing room, drawing the thick brocade curtain closed behind them. The space was private, the silence hushed and expectant. After a second when she just stared at him, Sierra turned and offered him her back.
Marco moved the heavy, honeyed mass of her hair, revelling in the softness of it as it slipped through his fingers. With the nape of her neck bare he couldn’t keep from kissing her. He brushed his lips against the tender skin and felt her whole body shudder in response.
She swayed against him silently and he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Desire raged through him, a fierce and overwhelming need that obliterated all rational thought. He’d take her right in this dressing room if she’d let him, but he didn’t want their first time together to be urgent and rushed. No, he’d take his time, prolong the exquisite agony.
Slowly Marco drew the zip down the dress, the snick of the fabric parting one of the most erotic sounds he’d ever heard.
The strapless dress slipped from her body, leaving her bare, her skin golden and perfect. He slid his hands around her waist, spanning it easily, and then, because he couldn’t keep himself from it, he slid them up to cup her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her nipples, his hands full of her lush softness.
Sierra sagged against him, her breath coming out in a shudder. Marco pushed into her, and she gasped again at the feel of his arousal against her bottom.
When she pushed back gently, her hips nudging him with intent, he almost abandoned his resolution to take his time. It would be so easy, so overwhelmingly satisfying, to pull her dress up and bury himself inside her right then and there.
He slid his hands back down to her hips, anchoring her against him, pushing into her and having her push back, their bodies moving in an ancient rhythm. Sierra’s breath caught on a gasp and her whole body went tense. Marco knew she was close to climaxing, just from this. Hell, so was he.
‘Mr Ferranti?’ The musical trill of the assistant’s voice caused reality to rush in. Sierra stiffened and reluctantly Marco eased back.
‘We’re not finished here,’ he told her in a low voice.
Sierra let out a laugh that sounded close to a sob. ‘Dear heaven,