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Dante’s nod was confirmation that as far as he was concerned, this was a done deal.
Marco left the table shortly afterwards.
* * *
She’d barely openedthe door before Marco was sweeping in, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against his body, powerful and strong, holding her tight to him as he kissed her senseless, his tongue lashing hers and his mouth so dominant and commanding she almost wept with the feelings he was invoking.
He swore into her mouth, so she swallowed his curse and the emotion behind it and then he was pulling at her clothes, the dress she’d chosen earlier that day, so a button popped and she would have laughed except her own desperation was at such a fever pitch she could do nothing but lose herself to this, and him. His own clothes were pushed from his body with equal urgency, a condom rolled over his length as he lifted her and pressed her against the wall of the foyer, entering her with a single hard thrust and a guttural moan, until she was trembling with the pleasure of this, and him, her body on fire, over-sensitive, her breasts tingling as he kissed her all over and took her hard, desperately, his own need answered every step of the way by hers.
She drove herself down over his length, using her feet, anchored low in his back, for purchase, to push her higher and as she exploded, he let out a loud, frustrated noise then carried her where she was, still wrapped around him, from the foyer and deeper into the apartment, easing her onto the sofa with his body over hers, not breaking the connection, kissing her as they fell, moving faster now, one hand curved over the top of her head to stop her from banging it against the arm rest, the thoughtfulness of that gesture pulling at her heart.
But she could feel nothing beyond the physical sensations of this, the fire low in the pit of her belly that was spreading flame and heat throughout, travelling along her central nervous system until she was almost incinerated.
They came in perfect unison, a total, immersive release, an opening of one universe into another, the cracking of something vital within Portia, something important and integral, something that showed her what a liar she was.
Because no matter how hard she’d tried to create boundaries around this, she’d been fooling herself to think she could control it, to think any part of her could master the desire he invoked within her.
“You are mine,” he ground out, pushing up to stare at her, his eyes boring into Portia’s. “Not forever, but for now, you are mine.”
Her insides twisted at the possessive urgency of his words, words that were so perfectly answered by the need within her, needs that he invoked, and yes, by an answering feeling about him. He was hers, too, as much as any person could be another’s.
It was a sentiment she academically rejected but felt deep in her soul.
“Yes,” she whispered, lifting a hand and curling it around his cheek. “For now, yes.”
It didn’t placate the strange swirling in her belly and she wasn’t sure it placated anything inside him either, but a moment later, he was kissing her again, more gently now, as though he could breathe once more. It was languid and lazy, an exploration and tasting, and then he was pulling away, standing, staring at her with an expression she couldn’t fathom.
“My brother wants to manage your love life,” Marco said quietly, detouring to the kitchen to dispose of the condom before striding to the foyer and retrieving their clothes, pulling on his jeans then looking at her dress regretfully. “I’m sorry about this,” he ran a finger over the missing button.
She shook her head. “Don’t be.” His desperation for her would be a memory she carried to the grave. “And what are you talking about?”
“Dante wants to set you up with a family friend.”
“He what?” Portia’s brows shot up. “That’s totally…not something I’ve ever asked him to do.”
Marco lifted his eyes heavenward. “I am aware of that. He thinks you need distracting from your situation.”
Portia stared at Marco with a thousand conflicting feelings in her gut. “I’m doing a pretty good job of distracting myself,” she said quietly, then smiled. “But it’s sweet he cares.”
“He does care.” Marco was glowering. Portia stood, dressing in her underwear, ignoring the dress. “He warned each and every one of us away from you. Particularly me.”
“Oh dear.” She couldn’t help a small laugh from escaping.
“I did not see the funny side.”
“But why do you care?” She moved closer, forgetting about boundaries and protecting herself and knowing only that she was here, with him and that was exactly where she needed to be. “As you pointed out: for this moment, right now, I’m yours.” She kissed his lips. “Who cares what Dante thinks?”
Marco made a growling noise.
“I’m a big girl,” she pointed out. “I can make my own decisions.”
“And your own mistakes?” He asked darkly.
“I don’t think you’re a mistake.”
Marco hesitated. “This isn’t what I expected it to be.”
Portia’s heart stammered. It was such an important admission to her. It was proof that he was as lost in this as she was, as unsure about the way it was morphing beyond anything recognizable and agreed upon.
