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And then he released her and stalked into the house, back to his study—where he should have stayed in the first place.
* * *
Nico stood near the edge of the vertiginous cliff and stared down at the small crescent-shaped beach he had never set foot upon.
On this side of the island the coastline was rocky, precipitous in places, but here and there the cliffs formed inlets with sandy sheltered beaches and calm channels of crystal blue water ideal for swimming.
Yesterday he had told Marietta the steps carved into the ancient rock face might be eroded, but in truth they appeared sturdy—probably as safe now as they had been a century ago. Until this morning he’d never thought about using them. Had never given the beach more than a passing thought.
Had he been in a war zone, he’d have cast his trained soldier’s eye over the isolated cove and deemed it a death trap—the perfect location to fall prey to ambush—but he wasn’t a soldier any longer and the island wasn’t a war zone.
And he wasn’t standing here right now thinking about danger hotspots and military manoeuvres.
He was thinking about the woman he had wanted to kiss last night and her damned wish list. About the sand down there on his beach and whether it was coarse or soft. About the temperature of the water—and Marietta’s skin... How she would feel pressed against him if they swam together naked.
Ridiculous, insane thoughts.
Thoughts he would not normally entertain.
But, by God, she’d got under his skin. Ignited a hunger that hadn’t relinquished its grip but rather had burned hotter, fiercer, during the night.
Did she understand what kind of man she was toying with? What sex with him would mean and—more importantly—what it wouldn’t mean?
He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets.
He was not a tender, romantic man. He was an ex-soldier with a grisly past. A man who had loved and lost and vowed he would never again tumble into that soul-destroying abyss. His liaisons with women served one rudimentary purpose, and for that reason he chose experienced women. Never innocents.
And yet Marietta was no ingénue. She was smart and confident. Strong and resilient. A woman who didn’t fear the world, who understood what it meant to accept the consequences of her actions. A woman who knew what she wanted.
Did she want him?
He closed his eyes, searched the dark, twisted labyrinth of his conscience. Which would make him the better man? Indulging her? Or keeping his distance?
He opened his eyes and studied the ancient steps.
Were they as solid as they appeared?
He pulled his hands from his pockets and moved closer to the cliff’s edge. Only one way to find out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MARIETTA CLUNG TO Nico’s back as he paused at the top of the cliff, her belly a cauldron of excitement and nerves. She couldn’t believe they were doing this.
She peered over his shoulder, all the way down to the crescent-shaped strip of white sand at the foot of the cliff. It was a very, very long way down, and the steps hewn into the rock face were much steeper than she’d imagined. Her arms tightened reflexively around his neck.
‘I’ve got you, chérie.’
His deep voice seemed to resonate through her chest, and the unexpected endearment made her pulse hitch.
‘Ready?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
As ready as I’ll ever be.
And then he started down the steps and the buzz of anticipation turned into a wild flutter. They were doing this. And she really couldn’t believe it. Not after last night, when he’d stormed off and she’d been certain she had pushed him too far.
She’d sat by the pool, watching the rich golds and ambers and deep purples of the sunset bleed into one another, and tried to attribute her uncharacteristic behaviour to having had too much sun during the day. Too much wine with her supper.
