'What do you want?' she blurted past the pain in her throat.
His gaze, intense and unnerving, left her face to take in the bikini she'd changed into. 'Why did you leave the concert?'
'Why aren't you back there, being pawed by your Italian sexpot?'
'You left because you saw me with Flavia?'
'You know what they say-two's company, three's a flash mob. Now, if you'll excuse me...' She grabbed her kaftan from the bed and the box containing the diamond necklace.
'Here-take this back. I don't want it.'
'It's yours. Every member of the team receives a gift for the team's win. This is yours.'
Her mouth dropped open. 'You're kidding me?'
'I'm not. Where are you going?'
She stared at the box, not sure how to refuse the gift now. 'For a swim-not that it's any of your business.'
'A swim? At this hour?'
'Singapore is the longest race on the calendar. It's even longer when you're leading and trying to defend your position. If I don't warm up and do my stretching exercises my muscles will seize up. That's what I'd planned to do before... Whatever-will you please get out of my way?'
His gaze dropped to her legs. A hoarse sound rumbled from his throat. A look entered his eyes-one that made her excited and afraid at the same time.
'Marco, I said-'
'I heard you.' Still, he didn't move away. Instead, he extracted his phone and issued a terse command in Spanish, his gaze on her the whole time.
Sasha dropped the box on the bed and took a deep calming breath, willing her skin to stop tingling, her heartbeat to slow down. Her senses were too revved up, ready to unleash the full power of her conflicted feelings for this man.
'Let's go.' He finally moved out of the doorway.
'I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what you're doing here,' she responded.
He speared a hand through his hair, mussing up the luxurious strands even more. 'Does it matter why I'm here, Sasha? Are you happy to see me?' he demanded in a low, charged tone.
She hated the fire that raced through her veins, stinging her body to painful life in a way even her first race win hadn't been able to achieve.
'Less than half an hour ago you had another woman all over you. Last time I checked, my name wasn't Sloppy Seconds Sasha.'
He swore under his breath. 'You know, you're the most difficult, infuriating woman I know.'
Despite the raspy vehemence in his tone, she smiled. 'Thank you.'
He took her arm and led her to the lift. 'It wasn't a compliment.'
'I know. But I'll take it as one.' She tried not to breathe too deeply of his scent as he stepped in beside her.
The lift whisked them upwards. From the corner of her eye she saw him turn his phone off and shove it into his pocket.
The doors opened onto a space that was so beautiful Sasha couldn't speak for several seconds. In the soft breeze potted palm trees swayed. Strategically placed lights gave the space an exotic but intimate feel that just begged to be enjoyed. Several feet away an endless, boomerang shaped infinity pool poised over the tip of the hotel's tower glimmered blue and silver.
Then she noticed what was missing. 'It's empty.' There wasn't a single soul on the sixtieth-floor skydeck.
'Sí.'
The way he responded had her turning to face him.
'You had something to do with it?'
A simple nod.
'Why?'
His shook his head in disbelief. 'That's the hundredth question you've asked since I knocked on your door. I didn't want your swim to be interrupted.'
She kicked away her slippers, her temperature rising another notch when his gaze dropped to her bare feet. 'This pool is three times the size of an Olympic pool. It's hardly cramped.'
His gaze turned molten. 'I wanted privacy.' He released the last button on his shirt and it fell open to reveal a golden washboard torso.
Heat piled on. Beneath the Lycra bikini, her nipples tightened, and her stomach muscles quivered with a need so strong she could barely breathe. 'I see. Will you snarl at me if I ask why?'
'Yes,' he snarled.
Striding to her, he drew the hem of her kaftan over her head and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he took her hair tie, raked his fingers through the strands and secured her hair on top of her head.
Fresh waves of desire threatened to drown her. 'Marco...'
'How many laps do you need to be less tense?'
'Tw-twenty.' She couldn't drag her eyes from the beauty of his face, from the sensual, inviting curve of his mouth.
'Twenty laps it is, then.' He shrugged off his shirt, then released his belt.
Her eyes widened. 'What are you doing?'
'What does it look like?'
'Um...'
Without warning he leaned forward and sniffed the skin between her neck and shoulder. 'You're covered in eau de Sleazy Rock Star. I smell of cloying Italian perfume. What say we wash the scent of other people off our skin, and then we'll talk, sí?'
'Marco...'
He swore under his breath. 'Go, Sasha. I need to cool off, or Dios help me, I won't be responsible for my actions.'
She went, with the heaviness of his hot gaze scorching her skin.
Pausing at one end of the pool, she stretched her arms over her head. At his sharp intake of breath, she let a sensual smile curve her lips.
The water was a welcome but temporary relief from the sensations arcing between them. He dived in after her a second later, quickly caught up with her and matched her stroke for stroke. When she swam faster, to escape the frenzied need clawing inside, he kept up with her.
His presence made every stroke of water against her skin feel like a caress. At the last lap he increased his pace and heaved himself out of the water. She clung to the side, her lungs heaving, and watched the play of water on his magnificent body as he returned to the poolside.
'Out,' he commanded tersely, his hand holding out a towel like a bull-baiting matador.
She rose out of the pool, careful not to look at the wet clinginess of his boxers. He folded the towel around her, his movements brisk as he rubbed the moisture off her. Then he swung her into his arms and carried her to the enclosed cabana a few feet away.
Two silk-covered loungers stood side by side, separated by a table laid out with several platters of food, from local delicacies to caviar on blinis. In a sterling silver tub a linen-draped bottle of vintage champagne chilled on ice.
Marco set her down on the lounger and picked up the bottle.
Sasha forced her gaze from the play of muscles and looked at the table. 'There's enough here to feed an army.' Reaching for a small plate, she dished out grilled prawns and fragrant rice.
'You don't like caviar?'
She grimaced. 'It smells funny and tastes disgusting. I don't know why people eat the stuff.' She took a mouthful of her food and felt the explosion of textures on her tongue. Thankfully she managed to swallow without choking. 'Now, this is heavenly.' She took another mouthful and groaned.
Marco took his seat across from her and held out one glass of champagne, his gaze never leaving hers. What she glimpsed in the heated depths made her heart quicken.
'Marco-'
'Eat. We'll talk when you're done.'
How can I eat? she wanted to ask. Especially when his eyes followed her every move. But words refused to form on her lips. It was as if he'd cast some sort of spell on her. Maybe he was a vampire after all, she thought hysterically.
The thought should have lightened her mood, made it easier for her to cope, but all it did was cause a fevered shudder to race down her spine.
Clawing in a desperate breath, she set the plate aside. 'Let's talk now. You invited me to the concert, then ignored me to make out with your girlfriend. What else is there to talk about?'
'Flavia's not my girlfriend, and I wasn't making out with her. She was congratulating me on the team's win, just like a lot of people have done tonight.'
'She was all over you. And you didn't seem to mind.'
'I was...preoccupied.'
She snorted. 'Evidently.'
'Para el amor de Dios! I was waiting in the VIP room for you! The Prime Minister turned up when I was about to come and meet you. I tried to get away as quickly as possible, only to find you were more interested in plastering yourself all over your favourite rock star. It was very evident you didn't have a bra on, but tell me-were you even wearing panties under that dress?'
A harsh flush of anger tinged his cheekbones. This was the angriest she'd ever seen Marco. The reason why stopped her breath.
'You were jealous?'
His jaw clenched. 'Do you mean was that what I expected when I had the band flown over for you? No. Did I want to break every bone in his pathetically thin body? Sí. For starters.'
The air thickened around them.
A thousand different questions rushed into her mind. One emerged.
'I'm not stupid, Marco, I know where this is going. But what about the consequences? The ones that made you avoid me for the past three weeks?'
He abandoned his glass and rested his hands on his knees, his eyes never leaving hers. 'Seeing you in another man's arms has simplified my decision. For the sake of my sanity, and to avoid murder charges, no more staying away,' he rasped.
'Right. Well, I'm happy for you and your sanity. But what about what I want?'