26 Hours in Paris (13 page)

“B
ella,
you need to sit in the tub. It's a soothing oatmeal bath. Your favorite.”

She knew the voice. Had heard the words before. She tried to turn over, but hit a wall of muscle. More resistance.

“Wake up, Kat. You need to soak or you'll be very sore later.”

Awareness dawned, and she didn't appreciate the light invading her sleep. Marko was holding her in a candlelit room, over a steaming fragrant bath. It wasn't just oatmeal. A sweet field of lavender called to her. But, no matter how lovely it smelled, she didn't want to wake up.

“I can't,” she said, burrowing into his chest. “Please let me sleep.”

“It's okay, sweetheart. We'll do this together.” He took a step forward. His thigh brushed her sore backside as he lifted his leg, and she groaned her discomfort. Hearing the water splash and feeling his lips on her forehead soothed away any anxiety. She returned to the tranquil euphoria of his strong arms.

“I'm going to sit in the bath now. Don't be shocked when you feel the water.” Marko lowered them into the aromatic indulgence and fit her snugly between his outstretched legs. He wrapped an arm beneath her breasts, and reclined her head against his shoulder. “Sleep. I've got you.
Je t'aime
.”

He'd said it earlier. He had. Kat had heard his husky proclamation, but her voice wouldn't work and her eyes wouldn't open. She stayed in the security of his hold, warm and happy in his embrace. Her body and soul complete in that specific moment in time. And again, she slept.

* * *

When Kat opened her eyes, the image of the handsome man sitting on a cream-colored lounger, his bare feet resting on the edge of the bed, filled her chest with warmth and belonging. She watched him, appreciating the stretch of the grey sweater across his shoulders and the long lines of his legs in slacks down to his bare feet. But so much more about Marko held her heart. He was the total package of a dream man. In her book, nobody else compared.

She didn't speak, and her heart thundered in her chest as she recalled just how much of the total package he was. He was loyal, caring, and more than she'd imagined in the past. He truly valued the people he let into his life. Maybe a little arrogant on his abilities, but he'd certainly earned, even deserved, that personality trait with his track record of success.

The concentration in his eyes as he scanned the tablet in his capable hands gave her a small glimpse of his business prowess. Oh, the hands . . . those wonderful hands, the mere thought of the security and safety coupled with mind-blowing sensuality had her squirming beneath the comforter. She groaned as the soft cotton scraped over her tender backside.

“
Ciao, bella
,” he said, as he caught her staring. He smiled and blew her a kiss.

“
Ciao, bello
,” she replied, returning his kiss and snuggling against the down pillow at her side in order to reduce the pressure on her butt. Damp hair fell over her shoulder, and she was grateful for the added warmth of the fireplace.

“Did you wash my hair?”

“Had to.” He dropped his feet to the floor and placed the tablet on the side table. “It was full of oatmeal . . . like the rest of you.”

He lowered the screen on the laptop, which was perched on an ottoman, and placed the computer beside the tablet. Like a jaguar leaning for his prey, he reached and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How do you feel?”

“I feel great.” And she did. Stretching her arms over her head and sticking her toes past the edge of the mattress, she twisted and turned, feeling more energetic than she had in ages. She rearranged the covers, folded her hands under her cheek, and gave him her best come-hither look.

“Great?” Marko asked, raising a sexy brow and pointing to where she'd moved the comforter off her bum.

“Okay. A little sore,” she admitted.

“That's better.” He grinned, then joined her on the bed. Spreading out that wicked body next to hers, he ran a large hand over the curve of her waist to the swell of her hip. “Otherwise, we'd need to press rewind and repeat.”

Cozying up against his solid warmth, she lazily kissed the side of his neck. The yearning to strip off his clothes and paste her naked body up against his bare skin gained in popularity with each yummy taste of the man. “I don't know. Maybe it's not as sore as I originally thought.”

“It's always an option, baby.” Holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lowered his mouth and swept his tongue across her lips. “Or I can put some more lotion on that pink little ass of yours.”

“You really marked my ass?”

He leaned over her shoulder and nodded. “Absolutely. I promised I would.”

Excited by the image his words created in her mind, she pushed off his chest and tried to get up so she could catch a glimpse in the mirror. But he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her back to the bed. She kicked her feet, but playing too hard made the soreness burn.

“I want to see. Let me up.”

“Lotion,” he growled, turning her on her stomach and clasping her wrists in one hand. He softly leaned over her legs and secured them between his thighs, keeping his weight on his knees. Marko kissed between her shoulders and held her still. “I'll take any excuse to keep you in bed and to myself.”

“I like that idea.

“Which one?” When he dipped his head beside hers and looked at her, a daring twinkle played in his eyes. He traced down her nose and settled on her lips.

“Both of them,” she said, sucking on his finger and swirling her tongue over the tip. “First, let's get done with the lotion. Then we'll think of what else we can do.”

He straightened and set to his original task. Cool, gentle fingers soothed over the burn and silenced her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the message those fingers relayed. No words needed. He was taking care of her. Kathryn sighed and buried her face against her arm.

Minutes of pure bliss passed, he released her legs, then kissed the spot between her shoulders. Once satisfied she was relaxed and comfortable, he settled on the pillow next to her. “That's better.”

“It is,” she said, turning on her side and touching his jaw. “It wasn't that bad before, but whatever you did was heavenly. Thank you.”

“Anytime,
bella
. Anytime.”

Curling around him, she pressed against the man of her dreams and slipped her hand down the clichéd washboard abs women expected on the hottest men. Her heart skipped at the knowledge that there was nothing cliché about Marko, and she was privileged to have firsthand experience on that front. Those muscles supported a body and mind that surpassed any woman's stereotype of a hot man.

“So not typical,” she said, lifting his hand to her lips and circling a fingertip. Licking down one finger and up the next one, then taking it into her mouth and enjoying the anticipation that lit his features. Question lines formed at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead, but she continued over all his fingers with no explanation. At last, she suckled on his pinky as if it was the tastiest treat in the world. Which, for the record, it almost was.

She splayed her hand over his stomach, skimming beneath his sweater and loving the way the soft hair, just below his belly button, trailed to the world's true tastiest treat.

“I don't think it's fair that I'm totally naked under here and you're totally clothed,” she said, raising her brow and giving him a taste of his medicine. She pushed the sweater up. “This needs to go.”

“Never let it be said I'm less than accommodating,” he said, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the lounger.

She skimmed slowly down his chest, loving the feel of taut muscles and the soft sprinkling of dark hair.

The buttons at his waist were easy enough to undo and the zipper slid down with little effort. Quality was quality. With his help, she managed to rid him of the urban dreamboat pants, and was pleased to find he hadn't bothered with underwear.

She cupped her hand around his heaviness and moaned with pleasure as his cock jerked from her touch. Rubbing his thick erection in long, hard stokes, she pressed a slow line of wet kisses from his belly button, over his goody line, then nuzzled and tasted beneath and around the treat she ached to enjoy. His breath caught and his delicious skin prickled each time her tongue licked over it.

Consumed with the desire to please him, she couldn't get enough of him in her hands and mouth. She worked to grip him tight, stroke up his length, and keep him in between her lips, as he swelled in her hold. Her tongue lavished the broad smoothness of the round head, and her mouth watered at the first taste of his excitement.

A groan sounded his erotic appreciation. Strong fingers tangled in her hair, cupping her head and massaging her nape. Kat licked up and down his length, and when his intoxicating flavor was too much to deny, she tried to relax her jaw muscles and take as much of him as she could in her mouth. Marko slid over her tongue, stroked the back of her throat, but as the heaviness between his legs tightened, he pulled away and hauled her up his body.

His hand found her wet heat. His thumb circled her throbbing bundle of need. Muscle control disintegrated, and her body liquefied. Her head lolled back on her shoulders and her hair brushed her lower back.

“This way,” Marko said, firm hands guiding her to straddle his body in a full contact position. “Kiss me, Kat. Take me and give me everything.”

She did, moaning with pleasure when he sucked her lower lip into his mouth and rubbed her clit with the same measure. Heavy sensations built in her lower belly. Her hips circled his groin, and the feel of his hard length gliding between her swollen folds grew to an unmanageable hedonistic indulgence she craved.

Pushing upward, Marko filled her body and met her desire, impaling her on him and driving them closer to the edge of reason with each thrust.

“Come with me,
bella
,” he said, breathing freedom into her heart and tumbling them off the cliff. He caught her in his arms and held her as they fell. Together.

* * *

Knowing he may regret reminding her she had a job to do, Marko had to do it anyway. Kat had to know she could work when she was with him. She could do anything she set her mind to. “We're going out. Research for the article, sweetheart. Your dress is on the bed,” he said.

“You bought me a dress?” She lowered the makeup brush to the vanity and turned to look at him.

Merde
, she was beautiful. Standing in the bathroom in only a bra, dark nipples peeking through the lace and a neat little patch of curls set between her legs, he didn't want to take her out. Didn't want her to dress.

“Yes. What you brought isn't appropriate for the weather. Guaranteed pneumonia if you step outside in either of those dresses tonight.”

“They aren't that bad,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal. “My coat is long, and that lovely wrap you gave me is perfect protection against the wind.”

He had to stop fantasizing about bending her over the Italian marble and fucking her gorgeous ass. He'd make her watch in the mirror. More importantly, he'd watch. His cock swelled and throbbed painfully with the image.

The thought of her staring back at him with the smoky look in her melted chocolate-colored eyes . . . He'd push through the muscled rosette and stroke into her tight hole . . . So fucking tempting . . . The bounce of her full breasts . . . The tightening of her nipples . . . The flush on her face as she worked to take him . . . His cream dripping over the lattice of pink that he'd left—

“
Merde
!” He wiped his palm down his face and stepped back. He wanted much more than mind-blowing sex with the woman. He had to focus on the big picture.

Only an hour earlier, Kat had been content to stay in Marko's bed for the remainder of their time together. Then, his sappy conscience and realistic side insisted on them seeing more of Paris . . . supposedly for research.

He needed more than sex from Kat. He needed everything she had to give, and in order to get that he had to have some control of the carnal urges that had dominated his day. Being with her after all the time apart made minimizing the physical need practically impossible.

“Fine. Don't get so worked up.” She threw her hands up. “I'll wear your dress.”

“Good,” he clipped, turning and walking away. He needed distance to maintain his composure. “Wear the boots. Your garter and stockings are beside the dress. No panties.”

“No panties equals pneumonia,” she called, giggling to his back.

The problem was he hadn't thought of buying panties. He'd have some delivered.

Accompanying his cousin during a few of her shopping expeditions, he'd grown comfortable with spotting clothing he wanted to see Kat wear. In spite of Martine's teasing about his newfound interest for woman's couture, he'd purchased a few outfits in anticipation of her visits.

In all the time he'd known her, Kat had gushed over only one designer, so he'd visited the Emilio Pucci boutique on Avenue Montaigne more than a few times during the summer. As a result, silky and bold patterns hung beside exquisite monochrome gowns and dresses in what he had intended would be her closet. Not once had he considered buying appropriate lingerie for her to wear beneath any of them.

He shrugged and stepped into the closet, choosing a shirt off a hanger and putting his hands through the sleeves. She was still ‘fixing' her makeup as he went downstairs, not appreciating the greater distance between them.