Suddenly Expecting (5 page)

The look on his face undid her, a mix of sorrow and understanding that reflected everything she’d tried to keep inside. She watched him swallow, her gaze following his thumb as he leaned in to gently wipe away her tears.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly, knuckles and thumb resting firmly on her cheekbone. “It’s okay.”

Her breath jagged. “But all those people...”

“They’ll rebuild. You know that. No fatalities have been reported, so that’s one good thing. It’ll be okay. We’re safe.”

She sniffed, unable to look away from his concerned gaze. “I was scared.”

“I know.” He cupped her face and leaned in, placing his warm mouth first on one cheek, then the other. Years ago, the familiar French-style greeting had amused her. But now, with his lips so very close to hers, and then as she watched him slowly pull back with a soft smile creasing those dreamy eyes, her heart leaped.

Keep calm, Kat. If you stop acting normal around him, he’ll know something is wrong.
But could she honestly do all those little things, the smiling, the hugs, the casual touching, and not be affected by what they’d done?

Her gaze darted to that mouth, that lovely, lush mouth that seemed like an evil conspiracy on a man already so beautiful.

Yes,
beautiful
was the only word to describe Marco Corelli. Outwardly he appeared cocky and confident, working the crowd, the camera, the press with smooth ease that trod a fine line between charming and practiced. He always got what he wanted, be it an interview, a prime restaurant table or a woman. But she also knew him better than anyone else and knew that public persona was only a small part of what made him tick. He was generous. Fiercely loyal. Fiery and passionate about the things and people he loved.

She could feel his eyes on her, taking in her expression, every single movement, and it was then that she realized she’d been staring at his mouth and daydreaming like some mooning soccer groupie.

With a suddenly dry throat, she darted her gaze to his.

And her breath stuttered all over again.

Three

K
at didn’t know what happened because it was instantaneous, although in reality it probably took a little longer than that. All she knew was one second she was sitting there, heart pounding, his hand still cupping her face, the imprint of his warm mouth on her skin. Then his gaze slipped to her lips, she parted them, he made some choked sound and suddenly he swooped down and they were kissing.

Her arms went around his neck as if they belonged there. She groaned, opened up for him and was gone.

He dragged her to his chest, cradling her, almost as if inviting her to sink into him. So she did.

During the long, hot, unbelievable kiss, she felt his hands everywhere, tugging her clothing, sweeping over her skin, caressing and touching until she was all heated up and her heart throbbed hard against her ribs. Then he pushed her back, bunching her skirt around her waist, and she was grabbing his shirt, yanking it from his pants and fumbling with the waistband.

“Let me.” He pushed her hands aside, quickly dragging down his pants, his urgency fueling her arousal as her mouth locked on his. Her blood raced as he jammed a knee between her legs, pushing them roughly apart then settling his hips against her before suddenly and swiftly entering her.

A harsh breath hissed from her lips, matching his as she stared into those dark eyes that bled black with passion, and she nearly lost it then and there. Then he uttered a low growl, hitched her leg around his waist, pinned her hands above her head and started to move.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, from the raw, animal sensation of being filled, fully and completely. He wasn’t tender or slow. He didn’t offer romantic words of love. He simply took, and when she got over the shock of the moment, she took, too, welcoming him, grinding her hips hard into his, her breath rushing out in a harsh groan, her teeth nipping the sensitive spot where his neck met shoulder. He cursed softly when she did that, upping the pace so she slammed into the sofa, the cushions grazing her skin. She gasped but kept moving, knowing full well she’d have wool burns come morning but totally beyond caring. Instead the moment took her, wiped away any reality until it was just them, their harsh breath coupling in the eerie silence and the air full of the familiar scent of sex and need.

Breathless and throbbing, she impatiently rocked her hips against his, eager for the final release. And when her climax came, it rushed in with little warning, and she was left floundering as the waves crashed, leaving her shaking and panting. Dimly she was aware that Marco still had her hands pinned, his deep murmur of release against her lips as he followed her, his body jerking into hers. She shook, his satisfaction heightening hers, and she tightened her leg around his waist, cradling his body, taking all of him with a groan that ripped from deep inside.

It was...he was... She groaned again and closed her eyes, willing reality to stay away for just a moment more so she could just enjoy this, them, here and now.

But of course, it wasn’t possible. Reality always intruded.

The air cooled her naked flesh. His breath on her neck slowed. The shudders racking her body subsided. And soon, the angry wind against the house broke into their private moment. When he gently released her hands, blood rushed into her fingers once more. And slowly, so very slowly, she felt him slip from her body and then stand.

They’d done it again. After everything she’d told herself, every warning she’d mentally listed.

She opened her mouth to say something, closed it and then opened it again before giving up. Instead she sat up, yanked her skirt down and began to button up in the embarrassing silence, pointedly ignoring Marco as he did the same.

But when they were done and literally had nothing else to distract them, Kat sighed and finally looked up.

Marco had moved to the far end of the couch and was packing up their card game.

“Marco...” she began, her throat dry.

“Hmm?”

“I... We...” She paused, hands going to her lap as he continued to tidy. “Can you stop that and look at me?”

When he paused and finally met her gaze, she had to bite back a soft groan. He looked so serious, the raw curves of his face drawn into such a solemn expression that she was sorely tempted to trace her finger down his cheek to coax a smile from his full lips.

Lovely lips that she’d had the thorough pleasure of just moments before.

“What on earth are we doing?” she said now, acutely aware of the warm flush heating her skin. “How did we get to this?”

With a sigh, he flopped into the chair and crossed an ankle over one knee. “Well, the first time, alcohol was involved.”

“And this time there’s...” She waved a hand, indicating the storm outside that had eased into a dull rumble. “But that’s not what I meant. I’ve never...thought of you in
that
way before.”

“I see.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes without getting embarrassed, and that realization just flustered her further. Truth was, she’d thought about it more than once but every time refused to indulge for more than a few moments. Giving the fantasy more than that would’ve been weird, not to mention futile. He’d never seen her as more than a best friend, so what was the point? She’d been content with the tag for all those years.

Until now, apparently.

Dammit. She felt her entire body warm under his scrutiny, until the desperate need to move overwhelmed her. So she rose, went to the small bar fridge and fished out a bottle of water. With her back to him, she rolled the bottle over her neck then down, welcoming the icy shock on her hot skin.

She was exhausted, so tired of thinking. She had no idea where she stood. Her head was a mess, and she couldn’t even blame this lapse on alcohol as she had last time.

The heat of the moment? Yeah, nah. She could have stopped if she’d really wanted to. She just didn’t want to. She
wanted
to taste his mouth, have his body slide over hers. Wanted to feel his hot breath on her skin and have him fill her in the most primitive way possible.

He made her forget things, just for a while.

She twisted off the bottle cap and took a slow swig, her thoughts churning. She shouldn’t be distracted, not now. She had other things to consider, important, life-changing events.

Swallowing the water, she stared at the small ventilation window that would herald a new morning, full of light and promise. A brand-new morning revealing the wild chaos of a passing cyclone. As the radio had revealed these past few hours, so many people had lost everything, and not only their homes. Personal effects, memories, things that meant so much to them, had been swept away by Mother Nature in the space of a few hours. It really was a miracle no one had died.

Relief surged, shaking her for one second before she swiftly got a handle on it. She was alive. So was Marco. They’d eventually return to the mainland, check over any damage to their homes, and she’d get the results of her test then make an informed decision based on those results.

Belatedly, she realized Grace would want her on the cyclone coverage, would need her expert digging to find that unique special-interest story that would spearhead the show’s donation line. They’d done it for the Queensland floods, for the bushfires, even New Zealand’s recent earthquake. Yet as she stood there with the cyclone’s aftereffects thinning outside, punctuated by the constant radio chatter, all she could think about was...

Her test results.

Marco. A baby.

Their
baby.

And her thoughts scrambled once more, rendering speech useless.

* * *

Marco kept his gaze firmly on her as she pointedly ignored his scrutiny. Her warm brown hair was sexily tousled, her neck flushed with faint stubble burn and the buttons on her shirt were crooked where she’d hastily tried to gather her composure.

“I guess,” he finally said in answer to her previous question, “that we’re giving in to some latent sexual tension, which is only heightened by the storm outside.”

Startled, she flicked him a glance as she took another drink. “Sure.”

He waited for more but she remained silent, all her attention firmly on her water bottle.

So of course, his eyes wandered, lingering on those long legs, the dip of her waist. The almost nonexistent curve of her stomach.

And suddenly an overwhelming bolt of emotion shot through him, a mixture of desire and fierce protection for both her and that unbelievable spark of life growing in her belly. No one except a handful of people knew the real Kat—the loving, fun woman who’d do anything for a friend, who’d wrestled with her parents’ overprotective influence her entire life. Who’d been dragged through her own personal hell thanks to her mother’s illness, front-page headlines and a bunch of loser men who frankly didn’t deserve her.

She was intelligent, passionate...and stubborn. Way too stubborn. Once she made her mind up about something, there was no way she’d change it back.

Like that damn stupid decision not to get tested. It twisted like a splinter in his gut every time he allowed himself to think about it, every time he tried to convince her to just go and find out. And now she’d finally done it.

Even though she was avoiding his eyes, he knew she knew he was staring. The tension in her shoulders, the way her mouth tightened, all gave her away. And stubbornly he kept on staring.

After half a minute’s standoff, he gave up and turned up the radio. Eventually she came over and sat in the chair opposite and they listened in silence, the weather updates and on-location reporters slowly charging the air with a sense of growing concern.

Finally she said, “Is it...? Do you...feel weird?”

He glanced up, but her eyes remained firmly on the radio. “What? The cyclone?”

“No, us.”

He felt many things, but weird wasn’t one of them. “No, actually. You?”

“Yes. No.” Her gaze darted to a spot past his shoulder before returning to the radio. “I...don’t know.”

“Okay.”

She sighed, her elbows on the table, her thumbnail going automatically to her mouth before she stopped halfway and dropped her hand. “This is...” She finally shook her head. “It’s... We shouldn’t have done this.”

“A bit late now,
chérie.
” He swallowed the small blow she dealt with no outward sign. “Although I totally expected that response.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “Did you?”

“Mmm
.
You have a tendency to run when things get too...intimate.”

“I do not!”

He lifted one eyebrow at her outrage. “You do.”

Her eyes narrowed as she leaned back in the chair and slowly crossed her arms. “Ben was a selfish bastard who dumped me when he realized I was serious about not wanting kids.”

“I wasn’t talking about
him.
” His hands involuntarily clenched at the memory. “And I still think you should’ve let me deck him.”

“And have you charged with assault? No way.”

He shook his head. “Anyway, I’m talking metaphorically as well as physically.”

“James was screwing a woman in our hotel room. Ezio took naked photos of me and sold them to a gossip mag
.
” She shoved a stray strand of hair back off her shoulder. “These are all deal breakers for me.”

“And what about us, Kat? Is best-friend sex one of your deal breakers?”

“Sex
always
ruins things.”

He frowned at her too-quick answer. Again, she was dancing around the question. But when she glanced away, hiding her expression from view in an uncharacteristically shy move, man, the sudden desire to kiss her pulled low and tight in his gut. Instead he swallowed the urge and remained where he was.

“So what are we going to do now?” he asked, deliberately casual.

She shrugged. “The media—”

“Screw the media,” he growled, putting both palms flat on the table. “What do
you
want to do?”

“Marco...” His name came out as a groan, her fingers going to her temple, where she rubbed firmly. “I’m tired. I know it’s your thing to talk things over ad nauseum, but can we just not right now? Please?”

He took in how she was reclining in the chair, her half-lidded eyes, the creases bracketing her mouth, and a sliver of guilt shot through his gut. “You should really get some sleep.”

For once, she didn’t argue. “So should you.”

He shrugged. “I’m still on European time. Not that tired. Here.” He stood and rearranged the pillows. “Sleep.”

After a second’s hesitation, she went to the couch and sat, then stretched out. He quickly dragged the blanket up over her.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her eyes heavy as he covered her feet.

He moved to the single armchair and had just settled into it as her eyes closed. Moments later, her breath slowed and she was asleep.

With a small smile he got comfy, crossed his arms and ankles and let his mind drift.

He swept his gaze over her, from the dark lashes resting on the soft curve of her cheek and the soft hair streaming down her neck, to her long, lean body, which took up the entire couch. They’d been friends forever, ever since that embarrassing moment in Year Nine had changed everything. Fourteen was such a cocky, self-indulgent age, and he’d been the worst, so full of attitude and mouth. He’d made a stupid comment, showing off to his friends, and Kat had surprisingly struck back, shoving him so hard he’d fallen on his ass. He’d jokingly admitted that had been the start of his adoration, and their combined detention plus her innocent smile, offbeat humor and fierce loyalty had only cemented their relationship.

From then on they’d been a tight quartet—him, Luke, Connor and Kat—until he’d been offered the unbelievable opportunity to play European football and left Australia for France when he was sixteen. Then their individual lives had taken over—him with his soccer career, her with her mother’s illness and her various tabloid exploits. He’d been shocked to see her three years later, barely a month after her mother’s death, but he’d never questioned it, instead taking up right where they’d left their friendship. They’d traveled, she’d crashed at his house in Marseille for a few months and from there she’d bounced between Europe and Sydney for close to six years. It was like she’d been trying to find her place in the world, and until her stint in London, he wasn’t sure she’d find it. But then, three years ago, she’d landed the
Morning Grace
job, and since then, she’d actually been happy. Sure, they’d both had relationship woes and she’d been his shoulder through the excruciating years his father had been dragged through the press, then an inquiry, before finally being cleared of money-laundering charges last year. She’d been his go-to girl when he’d been in between girlfriends and needed a date for some function or event. She was his wingman. His best friend. And now his lover.