a few after-school lessons? Can’t you reschedule?’
She frowned slightly but didn’t move away. ‘Maybe.’
‘Then reschedule.’ He pulled her close enough so their hips collided and she could feel how much he wanted her. ‘Reschedule, and come with me to LA.’ A few more days with her, nights with her, and then perhaps he’d have had enough. Perhaps then he’d be willing to let her go.
* * *
It was amazing how tempted she was, and yet not amazing at all because what woman on earth could resist Marco Ferranti when his hands were on her skin and his smile was so seductive?
And yet...to leave her job, her obligations, her life back in London and go with him wherever he beckoned?
‘Sierra?’ Marco brushed her neck with his lips in a kiss that promised so much more. ‘You will come?’ He nibbled lightly on her neck and Sierra let out a helpless gasp of pleasure as she reached up to clutch his shoulders so she could steady herself.
‘Yes,’ she managed, knowing there had never really been any doubt. ‘Yes, I’ll come with you.’
Later, lying amidst the tangled sheets while she admired the view of Marco’s bare and perfect chest, Sierra finally summoned the mental energy to ask, ‘Why are you going to LA?’
‘I’m hoping to open the next North American Rocci hotel there.’
‘Hoping?’ Lazily, she ran her hand down the sculpted muscles of his chest, her fingers tracing the ridge of his abdomen before daring to dip lower.
Marco trapped her hand. ‘Minx. Wait a few minutes, at least.’
‘A few minutes?’ Sierra teased. ‘And here I thought you were some super stallion with superhero capabilities in the bedroom.’
‘I’ve just proved my capabilities in the bedroom,’ Marco growled as he rolled her over so he was on top of her, trapping her with his body. ‘But I’ll gladly prove it again.’
She smiled up at him, feeling sated and relaxed and happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time, perhaps ever. ‘So have you started plans for a hotel in LA?’
‘Preliminary plans.’ Marco released her, rolling onto his back, but he kept one hand lying on her stomach and Sierra found she liked it. She’d had so few loving touches in her life. Her mother had hugged her on occasion, and her father only in public, but to be caressed and petted and stroked. She felt like a cat. She could almost start purring.
‘What’s got you looking like the cat who’s just eaten the cream?’ Marco asked as he shot her an amused look and Sierra laughed.
‘I was just comparing myself to a cat, as it happens.’
‘Comparing yourself to a cat? Why?’
‘Because I like being touched. I feel like I could start purring.’
‘And I like touching you.’ Marco moved his hand from her stomach to her breasts and then Sierra almost did start purring. ‘Very much.’
They spent the day in bed. Although not technically in bed; some time around noon Marco ordered food in and they ate it downstairs in the living area, in their dressing gowns. And some time in the late afternoon Marco ran a deep bath full of scented bubbles and just as Sierra was about to sink into all that bliss he actually joined her.
Water sloshed out of the tub as Sierra scooted to one side and Marco settled himself comfortably, seeming undaunted by the bubbles that clung to his chest.
‘I didn’t realise you were going to get in with me,’ Sierra exclaimed, her voice coming out in a near squeak, and Marco arched an eyebrow.
‘Is that a problem?’
‘No, but...’ How could she explain how it felt even more intimate to share a bath with this man than what they’d done in the privacy of the bedroom? And the things they’d done...
Quickly, Sierra realised she was being ridiculous. ‘No, of course not,’ she said and slid over so she was next to Marco, their legs tangling under the water. ‘Actually, I can think of some interesting ways to wash.’
His gaze became hooded and sleepy as he watched her reach for the soap. ‘Can you?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Her embarrassment and uncertainty, after a day’s worth of thorough lovemaking, had fallen away. She felt confident, powerful in her knowledge of how much Marco desired her. ‘Yes, indeed,’ she murmured and she slid her soapy hands down his chest to his hips. After everything they’d done together that day she was amazed that Marco still desired her. But how could she be amazed, when she still desired him?
‘Sierra...’ His voice came out on a groan as she stroked his shaft. She loved giving him pleasure, loved knowing that she made him this way.
‘You’re going to kill me,’ he muttered and stayed her hand.
She arched an eyebrow. ‘But wouldn’t it be a good way to go?’
‘Yes indeed, but I have a lot more life in me yet,’ he answered, and then showed her just how much.
Twilight was falling over the city several hours later as Sierra lay in bed and watched Marco get dressed. ‘Are we going somewhere?’ she asked as he pulled on a crisply ironed dress shirt.
‘I have a business meeting,’ he said with one swift, apologetic look towards her. ‘It’s been wonderful playing hookey today, but I’ve got to make back sometime.’
‘Oh.’ Sierra pulled the rumpled duvet over her naked body. ‘Of course. So you’re going out?’
‘You can order whatever you like from room service,’ Marco said as he selected a cobalt-blue tie.
Sierra watched him slide his tie in his collar and knot it with crisp, precise movements. She felt uneasy, almost hurt, and she wasn’t quite sure why. Of course Marco had business meetings. Of course she couldn’t tag along with him, nor would she want to.
‘So.’ He turned back to her with a quick smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’ll see you later tonight. And tomorrow we’ll go to LA.’
‘I haven’t even dealt with my plane ticket...’
‘I cancelled it.’
She jerked back a little. ‘You did?’
Marco was sliding on his jacket and checking his watch. ‘Why should you worry about it?’
‘But I need to book an alternative return flight...’
He gave her a wolfish smile. ‘We don’t need to think about that now.’ Then he was dropping a distracted kiss on her forehead and hurrying out of the suite, all while she lay curled up in a crumpled duvet and wondered what she’d got herself into.
‘A fling,’ she said aloud. Her voice sounded small in the huge empty suite. ‘You know very well what this is. A fling. You’re here for sex.’ What had seemed simple and safe now only felt sordid.
She got out of bed, trying to shake off her uncertain and grey mood, and dressed. She didn’t feel like ordering takeaway and eating it alone upstairs; she’d go out, explore the city on her own for a bit.
Twenty minutes later Sierra headed downstairs and out of the modern glass doors of the hotel. The foyer was buzzing with guests; clearly the opening had been a success. A few people clearly recognised her, but Sierra ignored their speculative looks. She wasn’t going to care about the tabloid article that had come out this morning. It would be forgotten by tomorrow, no doubt.
She strolled down Central Park West towards Columbus Circle, enjoying the way twilight settled on the city and the traffic started to die down. She found a little French bistro tucked onto a side street and went inside. As she sat down and glanced at the menu she realised she was ravenous. She supposed that was what making love all day did to you, and the