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Just thinking about it would sustain his fantasies for a lifetime.
Dipping his head to take a perfectly ripe breast into his mouth, he trailed a hand down her belly and slipped a finger inside her, groaning aloud to find her hot and moist and ready for him.
Diving impatiently into his pocket, he grabbed the condom he’d put in there as an afterthought and, with Hannah distracting him by smothering any part of his face and neck she could reach with kisses, he slipped it on, spread her thighs wide, and plunged straight into her tight heat.
Her head lolled back, her eyes widening as if in shock.
Silently he cursed himself. Such was his excitement he’d totally forgotten that until a few short hours ago she’d been a virgin.
‘Too much?’ he asked, stilling, fighting to keep himself in check.
‘Oh, no.’ As if to prove it, she grabbed his buttocks and ground herself against him. The shock left her eyes, replaced with the desire he knew swirled in his own. ‘I want it all.’
It was all he needed. Sweeping the crockery this way and that to make some space, he pushed her back so she was flat on the table, her thighs parted and raised high, her legs wrapped around his, and thrust into her, withdrawing to the tip and thrusting back in, over and over until she was whimpering beneath him, her hands flailing to grab his chest, her head turning from side to side. Only when he felt her thicken around him and her muscles contract did he let himself go, plunging in as deep as he could with one final groan before collapsing on top of her.
It was only when all the stars had cleared that he realised they were still in their respective robes, Hannah’s fingers playing under the Egyptian cotton, tracing up and down his back.
She giggled.
Lifting his chin to rest it on her chest, he stared at her intently.
‘That was incredible,’ she said, smiling.
He flashed his teeth in return. ‘You, signorina, are a very quick learner.’
‘And you, signor, are a very good teacher.’
‘There is so much more I can teach you.’
‘And is it all depraved?’
‘Most of it.’
She laughed softly and lay back on the table, expelling a sigh of contentment as she gazed up at the cobalt sky. He kept his gaze on her face. That serene look was there again. To think he was the cause of it...
* * *
A late breakfast turned into a late lunch. Francesco did not think he had ever felt the beat of the sun so strongly on his skin. For the first time in ten months he enjoyed a lazy day—indeed, the thought of working never crossed his mind. The rage he felt for his father, the rage that had boiled within him for so long, had morphed into a mild simmer.
In the back of his mind was the knowledge that at some point soon he would have to arrange for his jet to take Hannah back to London, but it was something he desisted from thinking about too much, content to make love, skinny-dip, then make love again. And she seemed happy, too, her smile serene, radiant.
Kissing her for what could easily be the thousandth time, he tied his robe around his waist and headed back indoors and to his bedroom for more condoms.
The box was almost empty. He shook his head in wonder. He’d never known desire like it. He couldn’t get enough of her.
When he returned outside, Hannah had poured them both another cup of coffee from the pot and was curled up on one of the sofas reading something on her phone.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked, hiding the burst of irritation that poked at him.
This was the third time she’d gone through her messages since they’d awoken.
She’s a dedicated professional, he reminded himself. Her patients are her priority, as they should be.
For all his sound reasoning, there was no getting around the fact he wanted to rip the phone from her hand and stamp on it. After all, it was the weekend. She was off duty.
She looked up and smiled. ‘All’s well.’
‘Good.’ Sitting next to her, he plucked the phone from her hand and slipped it into his pocket.
‘Not again,’ she groaned.
‘Now you have satisfied yourself that your patients are all well, you have no need for it.’
‘Francesco, give it back.’
‘Later. You need to learn to switch off. Besides, it’s rude.’
‘Please.’ Her voice lowered, all her former humour gone. ‘That’s my phone. And I wasn’t being rude—you’d gone to the bedroom.’ She held her hand out, palm side up. ‘Now give.’
‘What’s it worth?’ he asked, leaning into her, adopting a sensuous tone.
