Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (71 page)

But she needed to give Marc time. After so many people he should have been able to trust betrayed or abandoned him throughout his life, even though most had done so without intent or malice, it still was no small wonder the man had trust issues.

She hoped one day that wounded little boy’s spirit would heal and the man she loved so intensely would allow her into his life—and his heart. To trust her not to harm him would take time, perhaps a lifetime. Being a part of Marc’s life, however small a part she was, would be enough. For now. They were young. She hoped they would continue to have time on their side, but both had suffered great losses and knew how fragile life could be.

Connecting on an emotional level the way they had been lately gave her hope they could move forward and make a life together for themselves. She’d just need a lot of patience. He still had so much to sort out about his past, especially with his brother, Gino.

She could wait. They had decided to take things slowly this time around. They’d moved too quickly before and hadn’t taken time to build a strong enough foundation to be able to withstand the first major crisis to come their way.

Marc wrapped his arm around her back and guided her forward. When they reached what she assumed to be the stairs, he lifted her into his arms.

“I’m too heavy! Put me down! I can walk if you’ll just lead me!”

She felt the rumble of his voice—or perhaps it was a growl—and he pinched her butt hard, indicating she was out of line. He’d just been through an ordeal that caused him to lose a lot of weight, not to mention put a dent in his stamina. She’d even been afraid to make love with him, wanting him to regain his strength first, and had said no every time he tried to initiate sex since they’d moved back to his house after the interrogation.

Angelina wrapped her arms around his neck, hoping to relieve some of her weight from his arms. Even though she’d lost fifteen pounds over the last few months, she still was no lightweight.

Of course, Marc had never complained about her weight. He even said he enjoyed her extra padding, especially on her hips when he was spanking her or holding onto her love handles while ramming his cock inside her from behind. Her pussy grew wet in anticipation of whatever he had planned. If he could carry her around like this, he damned well wasn’t going to break if she jumped his…bones later.

She giggled and nuzzled his neck. Marc’s distinctive scent—lemon, bergamot, and, well, Marc—made her hungry, but not for food.

So he’d planned dinner at a new Italian restaurant? It was only midafternoon. She wondered what the rush was all about. And what about afterward? Would there be a play scene in her future tonight? Heck, with the sensory deprivation she was under already, a play scene was indeed under way and her body was ready. This meal must just be a part of it. He loved to feed her, especially when she didn’t know what she’d be eating. He often said he was impressed by her ability to analyze the ingredients, usually naming the dish itself.

Marc put her on her feet again and ushered her into a vehicle. Definitely not the Porsche. Much higher and roomier. Rather than Marc getting behind the driver’s seat, he nudged her to scoot over and soon had her buckled in, pulling her against his body where she snuggled against his shoulder for the ride. The vibration of the engine and friction of their thighs touching each other as they set off toward the restaurant heightened her awareness of the hard body next to her.

Which restaurant had he chosen? She’d dined at practically every one in Denver and had even applied for a chef or sous chef position at most of the finer ones, especially the ones with unexciting menus.

Maybe God knew she wouldn’t be living in Denver for long, which is why she didn’t get any job offers. Soon she be back to the catering business in Aspen Corners, but Marc promised to finance a business manager for her so she could spend more time doing the part she loved—cooking!

The strains of
Por Amor
filtered into her consciousness. It was a personal favorite of Marc’s, and she listened closely to the lyrics, translating them to her native English as best she could.

For love,

have you ever done anything

only for love?

Have you ever defied the wind and

cried out,

divided the heart itself…

Oh, had she ever. Leaving Marc three months ago certainly had divided her heart. If he could shut her out of something as important as flying to Italy to meet his birth father, what else would he hide from her? If he couldn’t trust her eventually, there could be no long-term future for them. Angelina had always been honest with and faithful to Marc. Perhaps in time he would come to trust her and commit to a more permanent future with her. If only…

After hearing what kind of man Solari was, though, she’d thanked Marc for not taking her to meet him. She shuddered, and Marc pulled a fleece throw over her arms and lap.

Once she’d thought
Por Amor
told of an unrequited love, but listening to the words from Marc’s perspective, she wondered if it might not have been more about his feelings for his mother—
mothers
. Deep down, had he known his childhood had been a lie?

And you have to say now

how much of yourself you have

committed,

how much you have believed

in this lie…

It could even have something to do with his estrangement from Gino. Complicated song for a complicated man.

The vehicle lurched to a stop, and the motor cut. Soon Marc was unbuckling her and ushering her out. They walked a fair distance with the wind whipping at the ends of her loose hair before he put her hands on two handrails and tapped the back of her left thigh, indicating she should lift her leg. Steps. She climbed them with Marc’s hand at the small of her back to keep her from falling backward. She didn’t remember any restaurants that had a stairway to them. This must be a new place.

When she reached the top of the stairway, he halted her. She detected no smells that would hint at her being at an Italian restaurant. If anything, she smelled…jet fuel?

Marc indicated she should veer to the right, and she did so. He eased her into a very comfortable chair—leather, mmmm—and buckled her in.

So they were on an airplane? How had they gotten through security so easily—and wouldn’t someone have questioned why she was blindfolded?

Minutes later, the sensation of charging down a runway left no doubt that they were flying somewhere. Wow. What on earth did he have planned for tonight? And where? Perhaps a large city. That didn’t sound like his style, but he’d told her he made an annual trip to New York City to enjoy an Italian opera at the Metropolitan. He hadn’t taken the trip, as far as she knew, since they’d met, although she couldn’t account for what he’d done during their three-month separation.

Thank God they were back together. He’d surprised her by saying he wanted to live with her in Aspen Corners at least until her lease was up—if she’d have him. They’d made some wonderful memories there. She just hoped he didn’t feel claustrophobic in her one-bedroom, single-story bungalow after having the run of an enormous house.

She had no idea how much time had passed when something cold pressed against her lips, and she opened her mouth. A tap under her chin told her to bite.
Mmmm
. Strawberry dipped in white chocolate. Why was he feeding her if they were going to be eating soon? Who cared? She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the combination of two of her favorite flavors excited her taste buds. He followed with warm prosciutto wrapped asparagus spears and a sip of white zinfandel. He encouraged her to try some of his classier wines but respected her preference for the fruitier ones. A girl on a budget couldn’t afford classy wines, especially not when she was building up a business.

Her next bite tasted like a cream puff that she gobbled down quickly. Marc’s tongue brushed against her lips, probably capturing some of the whipped cream she’d missed, and she opened for him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue invading her mouth.
Mmmm
. The best thing to cross her lips all day.

When he grabbed her hair, tilting her head back to plunge even farther into her mouth, heat pooled in her pelvis. She suddenly wondered what the other passengers must be thinking. But the stairway to the plane hadn’t been more than a dozen steps. Didn’t commercial flights use gangways? Were they on a private plane? If so, the ride was incredibly smooth. Good grief. What if it was a
jet
?

Where would Marc have found a jet?

Marc unclipped her seatbelt. She licked her lips, wanting to keep his essence with her even longer. He dragged her from the seat by both arms until she stood pressed against him, and he kissed her again. His hands roamed over her ass, tugging her against his erection.

Mio Dio!
Was she about to join the mile-high club? She blushed. What would Mama say if she ever found out?

Angelina gave a mental shrug. She was an adult. And she wanted Marc to make love to her wherever he wanted after having waited so long for him. Besides, Mama liked Marc. Eventually her overbearing brothers would come around to see he was the right man for her, even if he didn’t meet their impossibly high standards.

A pinch on her butt cheek told her she wasn’t focusing her mind where it should be.

She reached out and stroked Marc’s back in long, sweeping motions before her hand inched closer and closer to his sexy ass. How he managed to keep his butt in such great shape escaped her. Hers was soft and jiggly; he had buns of steel.
Dio
, she loved touching him there. She dragged her fingernails over his cheeks and imagined the hiss she knew he made, even though it was drowned out by the headset. She knew her man’s responses, and her imagination filled in the gaps.

Why was he still depriving her of sight and sound? He had to know she’d guessed where she was.

Marc nibbled the side of her neck. Aroused rather than feeling ticklish, she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet. His hand reached inside the keyhole of her dress, bringing back memories of the first time they’d danced. She could hear the strains of
Return to Me
in her headset instead of
Volare
, and they began to slow dance as they’d done before in Rico’s bar—not the chaste way Papa had taught her in high school either.

Angelina didn’t expect so much room in the plane’s aisle, but Marc’s movements led her to imagine a wide expanse. How could he have acquired a jet?

Anticipation and curiosity nearly got the best of her. The song’s sad lyrics had Dean Martin asking for forgiveness. Marc had played it at Rico’s when he’d come back to her before Luke’s accident. Before the interrogation scene. Did he ever regret shutting her out again that night? At least now they both understood more about why he did so, but hated it took such extreme measures to get him there.

Nothing is ever easy with you, Marc.

She needed to stop focusing on the dark days of their recent past and stay in this moment, dancing with the man she loved thousands of feet in the air. She’d missed him so much all these months and didn’t want to squander a single second worrying about their past or future. If they never managed a forever kind of love for themselves, at least she’d have another special memory to tuck away and hold on to, forever. And he was her Dom again.

Marc, when will you see that I am yours completely?

He removed the padded headphones and whispered, “
Bella
, I’ve missed you so.”

Had she spoken aloud? She didn’t think so. She held him closer. “I’ve missed you, too…Sir.” She assumed she was to address him as her Dom, given she was being deprived of two senses and in the middle of what seemed like an elaborately planned scene.

Marc’s hand smacked her butt through the knit dress, and her breath hitched.

“What did I do?”

He chuckled. “Nothing. I’ve just missed that response, as well,
amore
.”

Amore
. If only she could be his forever love this time.

Dio,
stop reaching for the moon, Angelina
.

She needed to take this relationship one day at a time.

Marc placed the headset over her ears again, and she was lost in the lyrics of her favorite Mary Chapin Carpenter song as they continued to dance. His hands stroked her, but he didn’t touch her where she wanted him most. Oh, the similarities between Marc and
The King of Love
.

He wants to rule your world

He already rules your dreams…

Still when he calls your name you have to answer

And when his music plays,

you are a dancer for him the only…

He broke contact with her body and lifted her arms above her head, slipping her dress over her head. Finally! Too late, she remembered they were on a plane.

“Marc!” She reached to cover her bare girls, and he swatted her hands away. Who else could see them? At the very least there was a pilot and probably a co-pilot. “What if the pilot comes back here?”

Of course, she couldn’t hear his response, if any, because of the headphones. Gently but insistently, he guided her backward and down onto a seat. Reaching out to her side, she realized it was a sofa or bench of some sort, rather than the leather bucket seat she’d been in before.

She reminded herself they weren’t on a public plane. Marc removed the headset. “We’re only halfway to our destination. I thought you might need a little more to eat to curb your appetite until dinner.”

This must be the slowest jet around. She had no concept of time, but it seemed they’d been on here for at least four hours, maybe longer. A nonstop commercial flight would get them to New York City faster than that, wouldn’t it?

Or was this a mindfuck? Were they flying around in circles just to confuse her? Not unlike the dizzying circles she’d navigated in this relationship to get to this point.