 "Payton,
talk to me."
"I don't think I can."
He swiftly moved toward her, his hands
circling her upper arms. "Why not? You can talk to everyone
else. Why can't you talk to me?"
When she didn't answer, he clasped
her chin, lifted her face to his. "You know me, Payton.
You know me better than anyone."
"Maybe that's the problem."
His intense expression pierced her, driving holes of hurt
through her heart.
"God forgive me, but you make me crazy." He
swore softly just before his head dipped and his mouth covered
hers in a kiss so hot, so fierce that it stole her breath,
emptied her lungs, left her head spinning.
Hot tears stung her eyes and reaching up, Payton clasped his
shirt, hanging on to him as her heart felt as if it were being
wrenched in two.
No one, but no one kissed like this. No one but Marco made
her feel like this and God in heaven, she wasn't over him yet.
Not by a long shot. Maybe not ever.
A cry escaped her as his lips parted hers.
She felt wildly divergent emotions -- pain, pleasure, denial.
What on earth was she doing? The last time he'd kissed her
like this it'd been in the gardens of the Trussardi family
palazzo. They'd both lost control then and they both knew what
had happened since.
There were consequences, her brain shouted, there are always
consequences.
She shoudn't -- couldn't -- let this happen
and yet it was heaven and hell and Payton knew this was how
it'd always been with Marco. Her response was pure instinct
and it was impossible to control.
Her whimper seemed to push him to the edge. Marco's thumb
stroked close to the corner of her mouth, lighting fire beneath
her her skin, making her crave more and she shifted beneath
him, the pressure of his mouth parting hers and she felt open
and naked as his tongue caressed the inside of her lower lip.
 Her hands were knotted in his shirt, her breasts pressed to
his hard chest, her body straining and it was still not enough,
she thought dimly, body hot, tingling, feverish, this kiss
and this limited touch wasn't enough. She arched closer, felt
his hand shift from her arm to her hip as he dragged her even
closer, and battling a groan she felt him press against her,
his body hard, tense, barely controlled.
He'll hate himself later. She heard the warning, knew the
warning as the voice of reality. Sanity and gasping for air
she broke free, using her palms to push him away.
His dark eyes glittered, his cheekbones glowed red.
"You."
His voice was deep, thick, accent pronounced.
She'd wanted the kiss to continue, hadn't wanted to end it
but she knew Marco, knew he'd resent the loss of control --
no matter how brief.
There would be consequences -- no, make
that hell to pay.
She was right. He drew another shallow breath.
"Maledizione!" He swore bitterly, battling to control
his breathing. "Why do I do this? What is the matter with
me?"
"Marco--"
"No. Don't say anything. You'll
only make it worse."
Payton's gaze searched the taut planes of his face, his features
hard, his mouth pinched.
He took a menacing step toward her,
his finger pointed. "I
nearly broke her heart once. I nearly crushed her, and she's
fragile, Payton, she's not like you. She can't handle the rejection."
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"No, it won't, because I want
you to go. I want you to get your things, your luggage, your
children and go. Now."
Payton's heart rose. "My children?"
 "It's what you wanted. It's why
you kept them from me."
"Marco." He was angry and
he was lashing out at her, she understood that much, but
to be cruel about the children? That just wasn't fair.
"You moved halfway around the
world. You turned me into a stranger. This is your doing,
Payton!"
She had to stay calm, had to keep
control. "I'm trying
to make amends --"
"How?" he interrupted fiercely. "By
destroying my relationship with Marilena?"
"Nothing's destroyed, Marco.
Nothing's changed. Don't blow this out of proportion. It
was just a kiss --"
"Just a kiss? How can you say
that? I'm engaged. I'm about to marry Marilena in two months
and you say, you have the gall to say, it's just a kiss?"
He'd paled, blood draining, intensifying the hard slash of
cheekbone and broad jaw.
"Maybe a kiss is nothing to you," he continued bitterly, "but
I am loyal. I am faithful. I do not do things like this. I
do not make love to one woman when promised to another and
yet twice now I've done the unthinkable and both times it was
with you."
"I'm sorry."
"What is it about you, Payton?"
"I don't know."
"I don't know either, but this. . .this
--" He broke
off, lips twisting, filled with loathing and self-disgust. "This
is wrong. I am ashamed."
He was. She didn't doubt him, or his
sincerity for a moment. "I'll
go to my room. I'll give you some space."
"That is not what I asked you to do." He was standing
over her, shoulders dwarfing her. "I said get your suitcases
and go."
"Marco, please --"
 "No! I am done talking. I am sick inside,
I am sick that we are back to where we were three years ago.
I don't know what you do to me, I don't understand the effect
you have on me, but this time I know exactly what to do. Get
rid of you." Tiny
beads of sweat formed on his brow. Tendons popped on his neck. "Fast."
They were standing so close she could feel his warmth, feel
rather than see the rise and fall of his chest. He was insisting
she, demanding she leave, but she could not.
She would not.
Yet.
LIKE IT? ORDER
IT!
top |
[Suddenly, an unexpected second
chance]... This time around will Marco's pride prove his
downfall or his salvation?"
North
American Edition 
