One Night: Sizzling Attraction

“Yes, we should begin that soon.”

“I’m thinking quite clearly now.”

Charity opened the small jar of jam and began to spread a little bit onto the piece of toast, feeling slightly more emboldened as she had taken three or four bites and not felt her stomach turn once. She lifted the toast to her lips, a little bit of bread crumb getting on her thumb, sticking to where some jam had made contact with her skin.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said.

Silence settled between them and she looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He was watching her, a strange softness in his expression. At least, if it had been any other man she might have thought it was softness. With Rocco, it never was.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m thinking,” he said.

“About?”

“The fact that I will probably try and seduce you.”

She sputtered, putting her toast back down on the plate, crumbs still sticking to her fingers. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to seduce you,” he said, his tone decisive. “I will succeed. We both know that.”

She spread her hands wide. “I just threw up in front of you, and I’m now lying in bed covered in jam. How could you possibly be thinking about seduction? And you really think I’ll agree to...be seduced?”

“Yes,” he said, turning away and walking toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I thought I would wait to seduce you until you felt better. Do you require anything else?”

She felt as if she’d been hit over the head with something very heavy. “No.”

“You seem confused.”

“How did we get from tea and toast to...seduction?”

“I want you,” he said. “I have, from the first moment I saw you. I am...used to having what I want.”

“But I’m a woman and not a Ferrari. So you can’t just come down to the lot and plunk down cash. I have a say.”

“I know,” he said. “And I want you to say yes. I value the yes, Charity. It means nothing if you don’t want me, too. Which is why I plan to seduce you, not simply take you. We will talk later.” Then he stood and walked out, leaving her with a promised seduction, tea and toast.

* * *

Seduction really was the most logical course of action. Because he had not been able to force himself to get excited about any of the women he had encountered last night. And he needed to prove to himself that he could take control of whatever this thing was that seemed to take him over whenever he was around Charity.

And when he’d been sitting there, looking down at her he had felt...a strange warmth in his chest. And it had pulled at him. Called to him. And she had asked “what.” What he was thinking, he assumed, and his mind had been blank.

He hadn’t been thinking. He’d been feeling.

Then for some reason seduction was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

But really, it made sense.

That day in the hotel she had challenged everything he had ever known about himself. He did not lose control, and yet, with her he had. So he could continue to avoid her, which would keep her in possession of his control, or he could stoke the fire of the things that burned between them, bring them under his command.

Yes, that was definitely the better idea.

The only other option was allowing his beautiful little thief to claim total control over his libido and that was not acceptable.

He strode through the villa, wearing a different suit to the one he had been wearing last night, feeling reinvigorated. He had not slept at all since coming home, but in lieu of sleep, his new plan would do just as well.

He moved through the living area and onto the terrace, taking in the grounds. He had not encountered Charity in the house, and he wondered if she was still sick in bed. Her feeling sick would be an impediment to his plan.

His plan had begun to seem very important, as he doubted he would find another means to get his interactions with her on track. Not as long as he was distracted by his desire for her body.

He could nearly taste her again. Those sweet, dusky-rose lips and the honey between her thighs. He was hard just thinking about it. How long had it been since he’d wanted one woman specifically? Had he ever?

He wanted sex, women in a general sense, but never specifically. Art, cars, things, he craved with a ferocious specificity, but never women. He craved beauty so that he could collect it, keep it.

He craved things because the more he owned, the more there was of him. The more evidence there was of his power. Never had he felt more helpless than as a boy with nothing. And so, he had become a man with everything.

It was why he had built a house into a carved mountainside that gazed out at the sea, owning a piece of what was wild. Taming it.

He wanted to tame her. Keep her. Make her his.

The epiphany was utterly disturbing, and yet he realized, standing there scanning all that he owned, it was her he was searching for. And no amount of awareness about the nature of his attraction would stop him searching for her.

She had him. And he had to reverse that ownership.

He saw a faint splash coming from the courtyard, from the large infinity pool that overlooked the sea. His gut tightened. It was her. He knew it was her.

He moved away from the terrace and back into the living room, striding out the double doors that led to the walled-in garden. There was an outdoor living area, with a bed and gauzy curtains, perfect for those times when he simply couldn’t wait to get a lover indoors. The pool and its glass wall faced the sea and a completely private beach, if he enjoyed the feeling of putting on a show without actually having an audience.

And Rocco had to confess, without any shame, that he did.

He looked at the pool and saw barely a ripple. Then, her sleek, dark head resurfaced. She had her back to him, her black curls tamed by the water. She pushed her hands back over her hair, droplets sluicing down over her hair, her arms.

“The view from here is very nice,” he said.

She whirled around quickly, her eyes wide, her mouth open. His eyes fell to the low cut of the bathing suit she was wearing—one that must have been provided by his staff, as he had requested sometime last night that they see to it that his guest had clothes. It was a one-piece suit. Out of deference to her pregnancy, he imagined. And yet it was still incredibly sexy.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her breasts. They were average size, he supposed, but incredible. Perfectly round with lovely, caramel nipples that had set his body on fire. He was obsessed with tasting her again. Everywhere.

“I thought so,” she said, offering him a strained smile. “You picked a great location for the pool.”

“I wasn’t talking about the ocean.”

Her cheeks darkened. “Oh.”

He moved closer to the pool, closer to her. He couldn’t help himself.

With her, he could never seem to help himself. “You are beautiful, cara mia, surely you know that.”

She lifted a shoulder, a water droplet rolling down her skin. “I don’t think about it often.”

“Not at all?”

She shrugged again and began to walk toward the steps of the pool. Slowly she rose from the water, revealing her body inch by delectable inch. He could not yet see any changes from the pregnancy, though she was nearly at the three-month mark by now. She was still slim, the rounded curves of her body pure perfection. He could remember clearly what it had been like to run his hands over all that bare skin...

“It doesn’t mean anything to me. In my position in life either you use your beauty to manipulate, or you don’t. Until I met you, I’d never used my body. Not even for a con.”

“I am curious,” he said, and he found he was, “when did you stop helping your father? And why did you go back?”

She let out a heavy sigh and walked over to the chair that had a white towel folded and placed in the center. She picked it up and started to dry herself, wrapping it tightly around her hips. “When I was about seventeen I told him I didn’t want to play the game anymore. He wasn’t happy, but I was basically taking care of myself anyway. A lot of what I did was facilitating corporate scams and charity frauds.” She lowered her eyes. “It was bad. But I’d always done it and...I just didn’t think much about it. He used to say that there was no amount of hard work that could ever get regular people like us to the top. He said if people weren’t smart enough they didn’t deserve to keep their cash. ‘A fool and his money are soon parted’ was always one of his favorite phrases. Of course, it never applied to him and how fast he went through whatever he got.”

“Naturally not,” Rocco said, keeping his voice neutral.

“But there was a point when I realized it was...not something I wanted to do. So I stopped. And he left town about six months later. I got a job waitressing. I’d been doing that for about three years when he came back. I hadn’t heard from him at all for the last year. And I was struggling and it sounded so easy. More than that...my dad was back. I’ve never been able to say no to him because I just want to be...I want us to be a family. He’s all I have. And it was just one more job—hit AmariCorp, get them to invest in us, roll out with the money. I swear I didn’t know it would be so much. And...look, it was wrong,” she said, dark eyes blazing, “I know it was. Old habits and stuff. I got tempted to cut corners and I didn’t hold up to the temptation. I did it because I knew that I wouldn’t make that much in a year of work and I was tired of struggling. And then he took off, and I felt like crap and I just...well, I never saw any of the money we took from you. It took us a couple months to organize the scam, another one for me to realize my dad left me in the lurch and another three for you to find me. And you made me pay, Rocco. You made me pay enough that I know I’ll remember the cost if I’m ever tempted again. Nothing is free.”

Her words sat uncomfortably in his gut. “I made you pay. With sex?”

“Among other things. I don’t know if I ever truly understood how wrong it all was until I met you and it...it hurts.”

“I feel I have asked too much of you,” he said, moving to close the distance between them. “I am...I regret the way things passed between us.”

“You’re sorry?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

He frowned. “I would not go that far.”

“I feel all warm inside, Rocco. I really do.”

He moved to her, wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her up against his body. His heart was raging, his hands shaking and he didn’t have any idea why.

“I am not sorry,” he said, his voice rough, “because I cannot regret wanting you. I cannot regret having you. Even though I should.”

He raised his hand to her cheek and slid his thumb over her lip, slicking up a drop of water that remained there. She was the epitome of beauty, a living embodiment of all the things he surrounded himself with. All the things he tried to collect. All of the things he wanted to own. And she didn’t want him.

It enraged him, that she was so close to him, and yet so far from him in so many ways.

No, it was unacceptable. He would not endure it.

“I’m cold,” she said, shivering.

“I could make you warm,” he said, his voice rough.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

“Because I want you,” he said, tracing the perfectly shaped line of her upper lip before sliding his fingertips over her sculpted cheekbones. Learning her face. Taking possession of it.

“But I don’t understand why you want me. You’ve given me every indication that you hate me. You humiliated me in New York. You used me. And whether you want to talk about it or not, you paid for my body. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense. When you walked into that hotel in New York I had every intention of humiliating you. I wanted to leave you in that hotel room aching and begging for me. I didn’t think I would want you. How could I want a thief?” He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t think you understand, Charity. Nobody steals from me. What I have earned is precious to me in ways very few people comprehend. I despised you before I laid eyes on you. I was not supposed to want you.”

“So why do you?”

“There is no reason. Except for chemistry. This is truly potent chemistry, cara, and I certainly don’t know how to fight it. The fact is, I don’t want to. I spent many years deprived of human contact, living with families who showed me no affection. I spent a great many years without the things that I truly craved. And I do not believe in denying myself, not now. Now I have the power to deliver to myself everything I desire. I have no practice at it and restraint. And no need for it. And so I underestimate you, and where the attraction to you would lead. And now I find that I’m aware of how powerful it is, I want to explore it.”

“I don’t see why I should sleep with a man who despises me.”

“You did it once.”

She looked down, her expression stricken. “I’m not proud of it.”

“Why?” He tightened his grip on her chin, forcing her to look back at him. “Why aren’t you proud? You nearly brought me to my knees. You made me weak with wanting. You forced me to deviate from my plan, and no one does that, Charity, no one. You could bring me to my knees now if you would promise to let me taste the beauty between your thighs. How can you not feel some pride in that?”

“I suppose,” she said, her voice trembling, her cheeks flooded with dark color, “I suppose it’s because I have never put much stock in sexual attraction. I’ve never really felt that before you, not in a specific sense.”

“Sex drives the world. There is very little that is more powerful.” He laughed, though he didn’t feel anything was particularly funny. “Perhaps money. And our interactions have been fueled by both. Is it any wonder we are so potent together?”

“I don’t want this,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“You don’t want my attentions? Or you don’t want to feel this attraction?”

“I don’t want to feel this,” she said, not looking at him.

“But you do,” he said, his voice fierce. “You do.”

“Yes.”

“I do not despise you,” he said, the words a rough whisper. “I recognize something in you.”

“What?” she asked.

“Hunger. You are so empty. So hungry. Like me.” She nodded, emotion flashing bright in her dark eyes. “Let me fill you.”

She nodded and it was all the consent he needed.

He dipped his head and captured her lips, a raw sound rumbling in his chest as he did, the relief that flooded him unlike anything he had ever known. He was so hungry for this, so hungry for her, and he had not realized until the taste of her dropped onto his tongue. Only then did he realize just how intense the craving was.

He coaxed her mouth open, sliding his tongue against hers, tasting her deeply, drinking her in as he would do a fine brandy, savoring her, letting the heat flood every part of him, warming the deep places that were always cold.

But she went deeper than any alcohol could ever burn, touching a part of his soul he had not realized still lived.

Wanting her became the physical ache, a drive that he could not fight, a drive he did not want to fight.

She was far too stiff in his arms for his liking. He slid his hand down to the curve of her bottom, pulling her tightly against him, against his growing arousal, showing her exactly how she affected him, exactly how much he wanted her. And she began to soften in his arms, a sound of capitulation on her lips, as she tasted him as deeply as he had been tasting her. As she allowed herself to get drunk on him, as he had been doing on her. And he felt her grow languid, felt her melt against him, her breasts pressed against his chest, an eroticism he didn’t think he had ever fully paused to appreciate before.

He was a jaded man, a man with too much experience. Kisses had long since ceased to thrill him. But this kiss was everything. It was more than any kiss. More than he had ever imagined a kiss could be.

“I must have you,” he said, wrenching his mouth from hers so that he could speak the words that were burning in his chest. “I need you, Charity, I need you.”

It vexed him, even now, that she could make him want so deeply. With all of himself. This little thief who had reached inside of him and stolen the very thing he prized the most: his control.

Right now, he was not even certain if he wanted it back. The only thing he was certain of wanting was her.

He gripped the straps to her swimsuit, pulling them down her arms and revealing her breasts. He lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking her in deeply and groaning as he relished the taste of her. She was everything, everything he had remembered and more.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she said, breathless, as lost as he was.

He traced the shape of her with the tip of his tongue reveling in the difference in texture between her creamy skin and the tightened bud. “We shouldn’t,” he said, breathing hard. “We absolutely should not. But you and I are notorious for doing things we shouldn’t. I see no reason to change now. Not when this feels so good.”

She said nothing, but she wove her fingers through his hair, held him to her as he continued to indulge his craving for her. He shaped her curves with his palms, absorbing every bit of her softness, committing this to memory. In case this was the last time. Because he would take nothing for granted with her, ever. He could not predict her, and in his life finding something so unpredictable was rare. He enjoyed it as much as he feared it. Another rarity.

He rolled her wet suit down her hips, and she stepped out of it, kicking it to the side. He raised his head and kissed her lips deeply again, before turning around so that she was facing away from him, wrapping her hair around his hand and pressing down gently on her shoulders with his other hand, so that she was leaning over the outdoor sofa.

He traced the elegant line of her spine with the tip of his finger, all the way down, until he was teasing the damp entrance to her body, testing her readiness. She was wet, wet and ready for him. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, and she shivered beneath his touch.

He freed himself from the confines of his trousers and positioned himself at her damp core, bracing himself by holding more tightly to her hair, and gripping her hip, as he sank into her softness slowly. She tugged against his hold, turning her head so that her eyes met his, her lips parted, her eyes wide. He flexed his hips forward so that he was buried inside of her to the hilt, and a raw sound escaped her mouth.

“Good?” he asked, the word strained.

She nodded slightly, encountering resistance thanks to the tight restraints he’d placed on her. He withdrew slightly, before thrusting back home, establishing a steady rhythm designed to drive them both to the brink. He slipped his hand forward, placing it between her thighs, teasing her clitoris with his movements.

Release started to build in him, far too soon—he wanted this to last, wanted her screaming his name before he took his own pleasure. He gritted his teeth, increased the pressure on the bundle of nerves he was focused on. He heard her gasp, and he took it as approval. He continued to tease her, pushing her closer and closer. Could feel her internal muscles tightening around him, could feel the climax building inside of her. He leaned forward, still stroking her, and grazed the side of her neck with his teeth. A hoarse cry escaped her lips and she dropped over the edge.

And then he stopped holding back. He pounded into her heat, chasing his own release, his blood roaring in his ears as he came hard, the sound of his own release mingling with hers.

When the storm subsided, he moved away from her, breathing hard. The outline of his fingers red on her hip, the evidence of his passion left in the slight impressions on the delicate skin of her neck, stood out like beacons in the night, irrefutable proof of his lack of control. And yet, he could not bring himself to regret it.

She was trembling, and he swept her up into his arms, an echo of their first time together back in New York. But this time, he would not be leaving her. This time, she would spend the night in his bed. With him.