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'Does this feel like pretend?' Perhaps realizing that she was incapable of answering, he thrust deeper, his movements slow and deliberate. If the night before had been crazy and wild then this was slower and more controlled but it was no less devastating. 'Does this feel like pretend, Stasia?'
He slid a hand under her buttocks and lifted her, thrusting deeper still and then almost withdrawing until she gave a sob of protest and clutched at him, urging him back. But this time he was totally in control. And he took her like a master, driving her to mindless, agonized ecstasy over and over again. And finally, when she'd peaked for the fourth time, he took his own pleasure, driving into her again and again until she felt his powerful body shudder and the spill of his seed deep inside her. He moaned her name, crushed her against him and unbelievably her own body exploded into orgasm once again, contracting, squeezing, drawing him in. He felt it. She felt it. He swore and thrust deep again and again, driven skyward by the pulsing of her muscles and the erotic violence of his own release.
An explosion so violent it had to be followed by calm.
Finally he rolled away from her. drawing his body away from hers and covering his eyes with his forearm. Lying in a state of sensual shock, Stasia risked a glance in his direction, wondering if he felt the same way. If she hadn't known better she would have thought he was lost for words.
But of course that wasn't the case.
As if intercepting her thoughts and determined to minimize what they'd just shared, he opened his eyes and yawned.
'You'd better get some rest,' he advised silkily, springing to his feet with the smug satisfaction of a jungle cat having made a kill, 'so that you are fully recovered for later.'
Later?
Feeling dazed and foggy, Stasia struggled to find her voice. 'We can't keep doing this, Rico—'
'We can.' He spoke with the same assurance that characterized his every move. 'We are, after all, still married. So why not?'
And that was that. To him, sex and marriage were synonymous.
It was truly that simple. The fact that there was a huge gulf between them emotionally just didn't enter into it. The fact that he believed her capable of the most distasteful episode of infidelity didn't enter into it either. He'd decided that he wanted to have sex with her, so that was fine. He was prepared to conveniently forget everything in order to satisfy his rampant desire for sex. It was as if their problems were irrelevant. And perhaps, to Rico, they were.
She was obviously good for sex. and that was all he wanted from her. Stasia stared up at the ceiling with blank incomprehension. Were men and women truly so different? Could he truly experience that degree of physical intimacy with her and feel nothing?
She covered her eyes with her arms so that she couldn't see his magnificent naked body. Her entire body was throbbing and exhausted and yet if he'd turned round and made love to her again she would have welcomed it. And she just hated herself for that. She wanted to be able to lie there and seem bored. She wanted her body to be still and unresponsive.
But it seemed that when it came to Rico, she was insatiable.
It took a few seconds for her to realize that he'd finished in the shower and was now dressed in a pair of shorts and a loose shirt undone at the throat to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of male chest hair.
He looked replete, handsome and extremely satisfied. 'We are joining Chiara on the beach. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?'
As he'd no doubt intended, the question brought her to her feet with almost indecent haste. 'I need a shower.' She wanted to sound cool and indifferent but it was hard when he was watching her with that penetrating dark gaze that she had always found so disturbing and so erotic.
'Then be quick. I don't want her left on her own.'
'She's surrounded by bodyguards,' Stasia pointed out as she walked into the bathroom for the second time that morning. 'She's hardly on her own.'
'That's not the same thing,' Rico growled, following her and leaning broad shoulders against the doorway.
She shot him a pointed look. 'I'm not showering with you watching.'
'A little late for modesty, don't you think.' he mocked gently, his eyes flicking over her breasts and down her legs with blatant male appreciation, 'when already I know every inch of you?'
She stared at him. 'You don't know me at all, Rico.'
His eyes clashed with hers. 'I know exactly how to touch you to set you on fire,' he said silkily, 'exactly what tips you over the edge.'
She walked towards him and gave him a gentle push, just enough to make him take a step backwards so that she could close the door. 'That's physical stuff, Rico,' she said calmly. 'I'm talking about the emotional stuff. And emotionally you don't know me at all. I'll join Chiara on the beach in five minutes.'
And then she closed the door.
When she finally walked on to the sand she was surprised and more than a little unsettled to find Rico stretched out next to Chiara in a part of the beach that was still enjoying shade.
She hadn't realized that he intended to linger.
'Not working, Rico?' She sank down on the section of the large blanket that was furthest away from him. Unfortunately it was the only portion still in the sun and she saw him frown.
