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She moved through the running water to kneel in front of him. And when she thought he was going to take her again, she was surprised. Instead, he hooked a single finger inside her and watched as her eyes widened with pleasure. “I can feel you letting go,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to hers.
She grabbed his shoulders as she came, hard, her hips pressing down, her body convulsing against the water of the bath and the warmth of his body.
“I’ll never get sick of this,” she promised.
“Good.” He parted her legs as he removed his finger from her body, and slid himself into her moist warmth instead. “I’ll need you forever,” he promised again. He drove into her; and the sensation of the water, and him, was almost too much to bear. She clenched her nails into his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. He drove her backwards, against the wall of the bath, as he took her again and again, moving within her.
They exploded together, a tangled web of limbs and sound, and too much pleasure. Aurora had never felt happier, nor more alive.
9
“I’m dry,” she whispered, her eyes saucer-like as they watched him taking great care to towel down her whole body. Softly, adoringly, he ran the material across her legs and stomach, then her back.
“You’re so lovely,” he almost groaned, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to his naked body.
Their skin contact made her pulse thrill, but she had to stifle a yawn against his shoulder.
“You’re tired,” he said reproachfully, lifting her and placing her down on the bed. He arranged the covers over hand pressed a kiss against her forehead.
The second her head touched the pillow, her eyelids seemed to be weighted by cement. She blinked to try to keep them open, but it was almost impossible.
“Where are you going?”
“I have a couple of things to do. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
Her eyes were fuzzy, but she squinted to read the time on the electronic clock. “It’s three in the morning.”
His grin was bemused. “Not in Italy.” He kissed her forehead again and ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Shut your eyes, Sleeping Beauty. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“It is morning,” she called out, but the words fuzzed on her tongue as sleep claimed her.
“Goodnight, Aurora.” He watched her from the door, his expression inscrutable, his mind filled with doubts. For though he loved her, he couldn’t easily forget what she’d endured the last time they’d broken up. The sense that getting involved with her again could only end up in disaster almost consumed him, but he pushed it resolutely aside. She was his and he was hers. That was the end of it.
Later that same day, when he’d completed the interviews he was obliged to provide to the international press, he sat opposite Aurora, studying her thoughtfully.
She was reading a fashion magazine, her long legs curled under her, her hair in a high pony tail, her beautiful face free of make up.
“You know, you don’t look a day older than when I first fell in love with you.”
She shook her head, a smile of disbelief cracking on her face. “I was nineteen.”
“My mistake. You look about a year younger than when I first fell in love with you.”
She reached over and punched him playfully on the arm. “Charmer.”
“Have you spoken to Alec yet?”
Her expression clouded momentarily. “No.”
“What about Beatrice?”
She shook her head silently.
“You’ve tried?”
She nodded, and a sense of sadness filled her. “Of course I’ve tried. I’ve called. Left messages. Emailed. I’ve called Peter. It’s useless. She doesn’t want to speak to me.”
“She’ll get over it.”
