MASSIMO HAD NEVER been lost for words. His ability to smooth awkward social moments had always been effortless. Now it wasn’t just that he couldn’t think what to say, he’d lost the physical ability to create sound at all. His throat was clogged, his mouth parched, and his tight lungs rendered breathing impossible. He felt hot, tense and uncomfortably helpless—he wasn’t coping. He’d never failed to cope with anything. But watching Carrie walk down the fine sand to where he stood right by the shore was killing him.
Her long silk slip was covered by a loose gossamer-light layer of lace, creamy and hinting at such softness. She was luminous—demure yet devastatingly sensual. He couldn’t stop staring, even as doing so destroyed him. Her blue eyes were as clear as the water beside them, while her hair gleamed like a rose-gold crown, and suddenly his made-to-measure linen shirt felt too small. Tongue-tied and breaking into a sweat, he was unable to tear his gaze away. And he was suddenly afraid. The temptation to take her hand—to stop her from disappearing, to keep her ethereal beauty beside him—was crippling. As for the ache to kiss her...
Why had he agreed that they wouldn’t sleep together? What had he been thinking? He hadn’t, of course. He’d been hot-headed, wanting to win, because she somehow pushed all his buttons and made him want to fight.
But as the sun sent streaks of light across the sky, and petite waves lapped at the shore, he didn’t want to fight any more. He’d just drown in her eyes. He had before. Sinkingly, he knew he would again. The clogged sensation in his throat descended to his chest where his ribs weren’t strong enough to contain his pounding heart.
They were only doing this for Ana. So surely he could control the physical attraction to Carrie? But all thoughts of parenting arrangements and future plans for a separate lifestyle fled from his head as she drew nearer. All he wanted was the oblivion he knew he’d find in her arms. He shouldn’t have resisted the other day. Why had he thought he could? He didn’t want to restrain anything any more. Had that rash decision not to act made their chemistry stronger than ever?
The maxim said you always wanted what you couldn’t have. Maybe it was that simple and that easily resolved. If he took her back to bed, it would ease, right?
But the sexual tension tearing him apart was augmented by a sense of foreboding. He knew their marriage should make scant difference to anything. It was only to obtain a simple piece of paper for a practical purpose. It was not anything portentous. Yet he could scarcely breathe through the intensity of the damned ceremony. And why had it got to him so much when, beside him, Carrie seemed a picture of unbothered serenity? Couldn’t she feel the desire screaming from his cramping muscles?
Yeah. He wanted her more than was rational or healthy. So he forced his glance away.
He saw Sereana, and Jai his lawyer, saw Ana sleeping in the nanny’s arms. He saw them all. Then he chose to ignore their knowing smiles.
Carrie had to listen hard to hear over the drumming in her ears, had to breathe deeply to echo the vows that felt more permanent and more meaningful than she’d expected, had to blink and look away from the stunning decorations they’d surprised her with.
And, while she tried so hard not to stare at Massimo, it was impossible not to. That white linen shirt made his skin all the more bronzed and in turn highlighted his eyes. He enthralled her. The barely leashed energy emanating from him was incredibly intense but she couldn’t trust her ability to decode the emotional source. Was it anger or something else entirely? She wanted to be alone with him so she could ask. So she could... No. There’ll be none of that, remember? Thankfully the officiating went relatively quickly.
Vows? Check.
Rings?
She was thrown when Jai presented a small woven basket to them both. There weren’t two but three rings nestling on the layer of soft fabric inside. First Massimo slid a solid gold band on her finger, then a ring with an enormous ocean-blue stone in the centre. She put the remaining ring onto his finger. He flipped his wrist to keep hold of her hand. Distracted by that enormous stone, by the pulse in her heart skipping fast and faster, she let him.
‘Carrie?’
A quiet call to complete the ceremony.
Vows. Ring. Kiss.
It was time for the kiss. Awkward.
She lifted her chin. A peck would do, right?
His grip on her hand tightened. A tug pulled her closer. It wasn’t a peck. Carrie’s eyes closed as he gave her the gentlest reverential kiss—a promise of something richer, sweeter, more nuanced than any before. She lifted her hand to his chest, unable to restrain the rush of desire, of reciprocation. The kiss changed. Deepened. Provocative and lush, it was a gift that took at the same time.
Her fingers curled into his shirt. She wanted to shred the soft linen to feel his skin against hers. Distantly she heard cheering, a little laughter and applause. Too late, she remembered there were witnesses—an audience, in fact, because this was a performance. It hadn’t served any other purpose, or meant anything more to him. And they weren’t doing lust. They’d agreed on that. Yet she knew in her bones that to be false. The chemistry was undeniable and had not yet burned out.
‘Do we need all these photos?’ she asked quietly as she held Ana, posing for what felt like aeons after the ceremony.
‘For immigration,’ Massimo explained. ‘We need everything documented and looking legitimate.’
Did that have to mean images of her all but swooning in his arms? With crushed petals at their feet, releasing an intoxicating romantic perfume and blurring her reality? With Ana gurgling in delight as Massimo teased them both into giggling?
Finally, Massimo went to the photographer, checking the images to ensure they were enough. Carrie sought out Sereana for some respite but, to her disappointment, her friend had already changed and was now waiting by the helicopter pad.
‘Are you not staying longer?’ Carrie asked. ‘Not even for breakfast?’
‘You newlyweds need to be alone.’ Sereana’s infectious laugh rang across the grounds. ‘I’ll come back another time. Massimo has offered the resort for my family and I whenever we want.’
It wasn’t only Sereana who left. The lawyer, officiant and photographer all went with her. And, then to Carrie’s surprise, relief descended. The show was over. Ana’s future was secure. It was all going to be okay, right?
‘Leah still has Ana, so you can get changed if you’d like.’ Massimo watched her approach the dining table, where he was drinking coffee.
‘Do I need to?’ She rather loved her dress. She liked the way it swished around her legs and the lace overlay felt cool. ‘I could wear this all day.’
‘Sure, stay in it,’ he said tightly. ‘You’re remarkably relaxed.’
‘What I am,’ she suddenly realised, ‘Is ravenous.’
She’d been too busy to eat breakfast before but, now the vows were done, she needed...a displacement activity. Something to stop her looking to where he sat in the shade, watching her.
‘Are you?’ His voice sounded oddly tight again.
‘Yeah.’ She selected a croissant, tearing the fresh, warm folds of golden pastry with her fingers. ‘It’s good that’s done. I don’t know why I was worried. It’s going to be fine.’
Massimo refilled his coffee cup, only almost to empty it in one gulp. How he could drink it scalding hot like that? Maybe he wasn’t as easy about their marriage as he made out but, with their pre-marital agreement already signed, it wouldn’t be for ever. That thought vanquished both her hunger and her relief. She abandoned the rest of the croissant.
‘Are you satisfied already?’ he asked.
There was a dangerous edge to his question that made her feel a sudden need to escape.
‘Where’s Leah?’ She glanced around. ‘I can take Ana now.’
‘I think Leah planned to settle her for a nap.’
‘Oh.’ Carrie’s pulse skittered. ‘Then I might paddle before it gets too hot.’
After that she’d get out of her dress and the day would carry on as if it were like any other they’d had here. Resting. Reading. Dipping in the water. Cradling Ana.
Without waiting for Massimo’s reply, she walked down to the water. She’d avoid her feelings for him. Avoid him altogether. It was too huge for her to handle. How could she ever comprehend the absurdly shocking fact that the man was her husband?
‘Carrie.’
He’d followed her.
She turned. The look in his eyes reset her again. Electricity crackled, drowning her recently resurrected anxiety. And, of all the volatile, mercurial emotions he inspired in her, desire was the most constant.
‘Are you running away?’ he asked.
‘Not a strong enough swimmer, sadly.’ She waved at the islands in the distance. ‘So I’m resigned to my fate.’
‘What fate do you think that is?’ He gave a half-smile as he stepped closer.
His tease reminded her of how he’d been the night they’d met. Charming and playful. Yet there was that tension underlying their spark. Neither of them could escape. Not then. And they were bound together differently now. This couldn’t be like that reckless, carefree night. Desperate for distraction, she stared at the rings adorning her finger. The stunning solitaire gleamed more brilliantly than the mid-morning sun.
‘It’s a blue diamond,’ he muttered. ‘If it’s not the right size, we can get it altered when we get to Sydney.’
It fit her perfectly. As had the clothes. From only that one night, he’d gathered all kinds of information about her. Maybe he could accurately guess a woman’s size from one glance. The thought didn’t make her feel great.
‘Did you get it in Suva?’ she asked.
‘No, I brought all the rings with me.’
She was shocked enough to draw a breath but at the same time wasn’t surprised. ‘You were that sure I would say yes?’
‘I made the plan.’
And she’d fallen into step with it.
‘Do your plans ever fail?’
‘All the time. I just adapt.’
She didn’t believe him. He worked to ensure he won. Always. A wave of melancholy washed through her. ‘How are you going to outdo this next time?’ she asked. ‘When you get married for real?’
‘We’re married for real,’ he said quietly. ‘I have no plans to marry a second time.’
‘But our marriage will end.’
He shrugged. ‘Then I’ll go back to being single.’
‘So you can play the field?’
‘Is that so awful?’
‘You don’t ever want to settle down?’
He shook his head. ‘Now I have an heir to inherit all the things. This whole situation is surprisingly convenient.’
‘You think?’
He stared at her, the facade of teasing humour dropped. ‘No. It’s frustrating as hell.’
She stood still. ‘What do you want to do about that?’
‘What do I want to do?’ he echoed in a furious whisper. ‘I want to peel that dress off you. Very slowly. Very carefully. And then—’ He broke off to drag in a ragged breath. ‘I am so sick of fighting it. I am so sick of trying not to...’
‘Not to what?’
‘Touch you.’
The desire neither of them wanted yet neither could resist took control.
‘Then why insist on trying?’
Emotion flared in his eyes. ‘Because we’re not sleeping together.’ But he held out his hand.
And, with a boldness she’d felt only around him, Carrie took it and tugged him closer to her. ‘Who said anything about sleeping?’
Carrie lost herself in the kiss. The drive to dive into his arms was irresistible. She’d never imagined that, the next time she touched him like this, she would be his wife.
It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just for immigration purposes. It’s pure practicality.
But he shot her a look of such hot possessiveness that she nearly crisped to a cinder on the spot. He made her feel wanted in a way no one had ever made her feel wanted. But it was a falsity, wasn’t it? Because it was Ana he wanted. Security for their baby. Not really her. But in this moment Ana wasn’t here. She was safe with Leah. And Massimo had followed Carrie down to the water. Now they faced each other on the edge of the world. Alone. And what she wanted was reflected in his eyes. In this instant there was only them and, on this one, most basic of levels, they were equal in terms of desire. So she let him sweep her off her feet. She let him carry her up to the privacy of his spacious villa. She would let him do everything this moment. And he knew it.
But, as he peeled the filmy fabric from her skin, the glide of his hands over her body was too gentle.
‘You’re recovering well,’ he muttered. That tightness, that ragged jerk of his breath, told her so much.
‘Yes.’ She was healthy and strong and he didn’t need to worry. She was only going to break if he didn’t give her the release she’d been craving so long. She reached for him with hungry hands. ‘Massimo.’
He shook his head, shuddering as she touched him. He lifted her on to his big bed.
‘I want everything. Fast, slow, now!’ He half-laughed, half-choked. ‘There are no half-measures for me. Not with you.’
‘Good.’ Because that was what she wanted too. ‘So hurry up.’
His kiss was catastrophic for her control. Her response the same for his. Together they toppled into a fast, furious, panting, desperate need for completion.
‘It’s been so long.’ He growled as he braced above her.
But at those words she turned her face away. How long was ‘so long’ for him? She didn’t want to think of him with anyone else. Certainly not right now. But he gently turned her face back round and his green eyes saw right through her.
‘There hasn’t been anyone since you,’ he muttered fiercely as he reclaimed possession of her. ‘Not in months and months and months.’ His mutter became a growl. ‘And I am not going to last as long as I’d like because you’re so hot. So soft.’
Shaking, she sighed in pure pleasure. The vulnerability in this was too exquisite, too precious, not to share and reciprocate. ‘There hasn’t been anyone but you.’
He closed his eyes. ‘I’m glad. I know that makes me...’
‘Human.’
She was human too. She was unbearably glad there’d been no one else for him. At the very least, they had this, and this was magic. He weaved his fingers through her hair to tilt her face towards his.
‘More.’ He demanded. He devoured. ‘More.’