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His words were filled with hardness but his body was pure sensual heat. Every shift and move brought a wave of desire so she was lifting her hips to draw him deeper, to make them one.
She pulled at her hands but he kept them where they were, restrained, and while he held them there, he moved his mouth to her other breast, where he tormented the nipple before moving to the soft flesh at the side and leaving another love bite.
It was so animalistic, so primal, but it filled her with a rush of heady power.
Not being able to move was intensely erotic, being a prisoner to his sensual exploration was something she’d never imagined, but now, she wanted more. She imagined being tied up by him so that both of his hands were free to explore her body, so that he could touch her all over.
She shivered as the fantasy took hold, as pleasure touched every part of her, and then she fell apart at the very seams of her body, the stitching undoing all at once so she was just a collection of limbs and cells and veins, one throbbing, hungry pulse. He held her and he came with her, his voice echoing hers, his cry deeper, but no less desperate.
And afterwards, before she could breathe, much less speak, his eyes pinned her to the spot. His face was slashed with colour, his features held in a mask of determination. “Do you see, care?”
The softly spoken word rocked something deep inside of her.
“Do you see how easy this, at least, is?”
She swept her eyes shut, because he was right, even when it was wrong.
His body weight on her body was a pleasure she could no longer bear. She lifted her hands to push at him, just a little, but he rolled away pre-emptively, onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.
She studied him, a frown on her face, a kernel of worry growing out of control inside of her belly.
“The sex is easy. Desire is easy. But everything else is an absolute mess, and I think we’re just going to make it worse.”
A week later, at their grandparents’ estate, Fiero took a swig of beer from the bottle, his expression grim. It was a warm evening. Max was swimming, and Luca was across the table, on the phone to the CEO of their Belgian operation. Yaya, having joined them for dinner, had retired to her room for the night. She tired early these days, going to sleep shortly before eight o’clock each night. An uneasiness had crept over Fiero. He knew she didn’t have long and that knowledge was like a chain about his throat. Life without Yaya was almost impossible to contemplate.
She’d asked about Jack at dinner, a smile tickling her lips. Then, she’d asked about Elodie, and silence had fallen. No one had known what to say, least of all Fiero. How could he explain any of this to Yaya?
How could he explain it to anyone? He couldn’t even get Elodie to comprehend how he felt.
She’d been right.
Sex was easy. Incredibly easy.
He despised her during the day, despised the fact she’d kept him from his own son, despised the fact that if it hadn’t been for the accident, he’d have no idea about Jack. Despised that he was glad, on any level, for what had befallen her because at the same time, fear at the way her body could have been destroyed filled him with an acid that burned through his whole system.
It was a mess, just like she’d said.
He despised her in the day but at night, when he reached for her, everything locked into place once more. His body craved and hers responded. Perhaps it was the other way around. He drew her into his arms and she blinked up at him and there was nothing and no one that could keep them apart.
“So? How’s married life?” Luca disconnected the call, a self-satisfied look on his expression which Fiero took to mean he’d closed the deal over in Brussels.
He stared at his brother blankly.
“Jack’s mother?”
“Elodie,” Fiero supplied without thinking. “We’re not married.”
“But as good as,” he pointed out.
“No.” Fiero’s eyes flashed, his body tightening in rejection of that. “Not now, not ever.”
Luca laughed gruffly. “Sounds like you’ve got something to hide.”
Fiero’s pulse was thready. “Oh?”
“You look like you want to kill someone. You don’t want to be here. A
ll I can presume is that your home life beckons.”
