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The adrenaline rioting through my system gave me the strength to walk the rest of the way across the warm sand towards him. I knew somehow that he wouldn’t take a single step towards me. It was all part of the promise he’d made me. That this was my choice.
But, as I approached him, I could see the arousal burning in his eyes, inching out the blue of his irises and turning them to black as his pupils dilated. His breathing was as heavy as my own and that matching need somehow calmed the last of the nerves knotting in my belly.
‘Bella...’ The endearment which I had come to adore issued from those sensual lips on a husky croak of need as I finally reached him. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Satisfaction surged through me at the dark frown, the confusion matched by the hunger in his gaze.
I might be woefully inexperienced sexually, but I felt bold, brazen even, in my excuse for a bikini. He’d given me the choice and I was making it. No regrets, no excuses, no turning back.
‘Spying on you,’ I said on a tortured huff of breath. Unafraid. And unashamed.
I let my gaze drift over him in return, and let every ounce of my excitement show as the muscles of his six-pack rippled with tension, and the thick ridge stretching his boxer briefs lengthened.
The erection looked enormous, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t scared. I knew it would hurt but my sex had melted, the liquid tug between my thighs throbbing painfully now with the desire to feel that thick ridge thrusting inside me.
A cold knuckle tucked under my chin and he lifted my face to his.
‘You’re playing with fire, Edie. Unless you want me to make love to you in the next five seconds, you need to leave now.’
Make love to you.
They were only words, I knew that, to describe a basic, elemental desire. But they pierced my heart as I forced a smile to my lips, trying to appear assured and uninhibited.
I knew instinctively that I needed to keep exactly how inexperienced I was hidden from him. Or this affair would be over before it had begun.
Dante wasn’t looking for intimacy—his horrified reaction to my sympathy four nights ago had told me that much. And neither was I, despite the heavy thuds of my heartbeat. I might be a virgin, but I had always known the vast difference between lust and love—unlike my mother... Perhaps because of my mother and all the heartache I’d watched her suffer over men who had wanted her body but never her heart. Her mistake had been to think that by giving one she would get the other. I though, was a realist who would never make that mistake.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I said.
I saw his control snap, and the surge of adrenaline flowed through my veins as he swore softly and then grasped my upper arms to yank me into his embrace.
He cupped my bottom, pressing the hard ridge of his erection into my belly. I reached up and sunk my fingers into the wet silk of his hair as his lips sucked on my collarbone, finding the place where my pulse pounded and throbbed.
His chilly fingers sunk beneath the scrap of blue Lycra and I bucked against him, shocked by the intimacy of his touch as the heel of his hand pressed against my vulva and then he found the hot nub of my clitoris.
‘Bella, you’re so wet for me already,’ he murmured against my neck, stroking, circling, caressing and making my whole body dance to his tune.
He dragged off the bikini top, snapping the strap, and covered my swollen breast with his mouth, while continuing to play with his thumb, devious strokes that thrust me into a maelstrom of needs.
Part of me panicked at the speed and intensity of the feelings engulfing me, but as the waves rose up to batter my body, the arrow of sensation in my breast as he suckled hard at the nipple reverberated in my sex. The sobs of my fulfilment echoed off the surrounding rocks, drowning out the sound of the sea, the surf and the thundering beating of my heart.
‘Come for me now,’ he demanded.
I hung suspended for what felt lik
e for ever but could only have been a few seconds, then flew over, my fingers tugging at his hair, my body bucking furiously as I ground my sex against his hand, his thumb having located the perfect spot to force me over that high wide ledge.
I crashed down, my besieged body shuddering from an orgasm so sudden and intense I felt as if I’d survived a war.
I had barely come back to my senses when I felt the sand shift beneath my feet.
He had scooped me into his arms, I realised. My eyelids fluttered open and my gaze fixed on his chin, and the small crescent-shaped scar that cut through the morning stubble on his top lip.
‘Thank you,’ I muttered.
‘You’re welcome.’ He gave a throaty chuckle. ‘We’re not finished yet though,’ he said as he carried me into the beach shelter and placed me gently on one of the long cushioned couches.
He touched his thumb to my reddened nipple, played with the pebbled peak. I felt the flush of colour spread up to my hairline, knowing what a spectacle I made, lying there, all languid and sated, the bikini bra hanging off my shoulder.
