Fall from India Place (On Dublin Street #4)(49)
Author: Samantha Young

His thumbs brushed over my pebbled ni**les and my lower belly rippled with arousal.

Without saying a word, Marco played my body, touching me, caressing me, kneading me. As I panted for breath, he slipped his hand between my legs and pushed his fingers inside me. I leaned my hands on the tiles in front of me and rode his fingers.

“Fuck me,” I groaned in desperation.

Suddenly Marco’s fingers were gone, my hips were gripped hard in his hands, and his c**k was gliding into me. I cried out at the fullness of him inside me and reared back into his gentle thrusts.

He cupped my right breast again, pressing me back into him as he squeezed it while his other hand moved between my legs. His fingers slid over my clit, back and forth, as he continued to f**k me in slow, tormenting thrusts.

I rested the back of my head on his chest, my hands on his hips behind me, desperate for satisfaction. He pushed me toward it, until my whole body stiffened.

Marco felt it and started pumping harder, faster.

The tension inside me broke apart, the orgasm quivering through my whole body as my eyes fluttered closed in absolute bliss.

I melted against Marco and he held me tighter, his breath hot on my skin, his grunts and pants increasing as he chased his own climax. And then suddenly I felt his teeth on my shoulder as his body tightened a few seconds before his hips jerked hard with release.

He pressed me against the tiles, his body shuddering as he came inside me.

“Fuck,” he breathed, caressing my bottom.

I shivered, my heart still racing in my chest.

That had been intense.

And apparently Marco wasn’t done with intense.

He pulled out of me slowly, but I didn’t even have time to regret the loss of him before he spun me around to face him. I stared up at him to find his expression fierce. His grip on my shoulders was uncompromising. “When we were kids, I was in love with you.”

Surprise, gratification, relief, sheer joy… it all moved through me as my eyes widened at his abrupt confession.

“That never went away, Hannah.” He rested his forehead against mine. “And now that I know you again, I’m even more in love with you.”

Oh, shit. My throat closed up. I knew, I just knew, I couldn’t say it back yet.

“Ssh,” he murmured, feeling my tension. He kissed me gently. “I can wait for you to say it. I just wanted you to know how I feel. Nothing will change that.” His eyes searched mine. “Whatever that was out there, stop. I don’t want you to be sore about our past anymore. It’s done. We can’t take it back. But we have now. And now is good.”

Too emotional to form words, I just nodded and wrapped my arms around him. I rested my head on his chest, near his heart, and let him hold me as the warm water cascaded over us.

CHAPTER 18

The next morning, I sighed regretfully as I tidied away all evidence of our visit to the cottage. When Marco came in from putting our bags in the car and saw the uncharacteristic pout on my lips, he cracked a smile. “Back to reality.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Do we have to?”

His smile disappeared. “We have a lot to talk about when we get back.”

My stomach flip-flopped. “Why don’t we talk about it now?”

“I’d rather we talk about it back home. It’s a pretty big deal.”

“It is about your mysterious weekends, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s hit the road now, because the suspense has been killing me for weeks.”

Marco pulled up outside my flat. “You go in. I’ll drop the rental off and get a cab back.”

I leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “Text me when you’re nearly at the flat. I’ll put the kettle on for you.”

“Sure, babe.”

I got out of the car, grabbed my bag, and ducked my head back in the passenger door, everything I wasn’t quite ready to say but definitely felt shining in my eyes. “Thank you for a beautiful weekend.”

His mouth kicked up at the corner. “It’s not over yet, Hannah.”

I reluctantly shut the door on that rather thrilling comment and hurried into my building out of the cold. As much as I loved my flat, I really did miss the cottage already. Pottering around the flat, putting on the heat, tidying up the mess I’d left in my bedroom after Marco had dropped the surprise getaway on me, I couldn’t ignore the kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach. I was beyond nervous about Marco’s upcoming discussion with me. In fact, it was an understatement to say I was growing a little impatient with the “family thing.” I’d even spoken to Joss about it. She reckoned Marco was waiting until I said “I love you” before divulging whatever this unspoken commitment was.

“It’s obviously important. It’s not hard to guess he just needs to know you two are serious before he tells you,” she’d opined.

“But we are serious.”

“Have you told him you love him?”

“No.”

“Then how does he know how serious you are?”

I wondered now, after he had said, “I love you,” if there hadn’t been some truth in what Joss said. We had grown much closer over the last two weeks. Perhaps Joss was right. Maybe he had just needed to know I was serious about him.

In an attempt to take my mind off it until he returned to finally clear up the whole mystery, I decided to do some housework, starting with my bedroom.

I’d barely begun when my phone went off. Assuming it was the text message from Marco, I was more than a little surprised to see Suzanne’s name on the screen. I swiped it, opening her message.

Don’t shoot the messenger. I was at the German Market last weekend and saw this. I thought it through and finally decided you needed to see it.

My heart now flipped in a much less pleasant way as I clicked on the photo attachment to enlarge it – and felt the world narrow around me.

The photo captured Marco by one of the market stalls. He was carrying a little boy and smiling at a pretty brunette who was laughing up into his face.

The little boy… he had Marco’s coloring… Marco’s smile…

The phone slipped from my hand and I felt my knees wobble.

Suddenly I was on the carpet, attempting not to throw up at the implications of the photograph. My heart was racing too hard. I couldn’t breathe properly.

I willed myself to calm down, exhaling and inhaling in measured breaths until my heart rate slowed.

Trembling, I reached for my phone and flicked open the picture again.