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‘Alicia.’ He held her hips against his and they both knew the towel had gone. ‘You had no intention of sleeping with me?’ he checked. ‘Not even a thought that we might get it on?’
‘Not even a thought.’ Not a tangible one, anyway, but she could still see those cups rattling before she’d stepped inside.
And she’d woken breathless in the night and denied to herself it was from thinking of him.
Endless hope, maybe.
But what would he know about that?
‘Not a thought,’ she insisted.
‘You’re so good at it you don’t even know when you lie.’
And suddenly they were kissing. So angrily, so deliciously, so urgently. And between frantic kisses there were angry words.
‘Liar...’ he said, pulling down the spaghetti straps of her nightgown and claiming her naked breasts with hands that knew them. ‘You wanted me...’
‘No,’ she insisted, because for years and years she had thought she nursed hate, and had sworn to herself that was all it was... At least until she stood at his bedroom door. ‘I didn’t—’
But she was back at his neck and kissing him hungrily, her short nails digging into his back. And she was such a liar, even to herself, because this man had crept into her dreams. No matter how she’d tried to push him away by day, Dante had always been there when she closed her eyes at night.
‘Yes.’
She left his shoulder and rested her burning cheek on his chest, thinking that it might be her own heart she could hear beating in his chest. And it might as well be, for he dictated the very beat of it, the pace, the pulse. He dictated her breath too, for she held it in angrily as she denied the truth...
And then, as if to his command, she finally let it out, exhaling her truth. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘Wanted or want?’ he said, and it was his heart she heard now, two hearts each testing the other.
‘Both.’
She did not care if it was just sex, because she loved ‘just sex’ with Dante.
He lifted her just as easily as if they were back in the river, and she wrapped her legs just as readily around him.
It was reckless—but then they both had been at times.
But she knew Dante had never been as reckless as this, as insistent on another admitting their want. And Alicia loved being reckless—but only with him.
He could feel passion in every limb wrapped around him. All the fakery and restraint they had attempted was receding, and it was a relief to give in to the person who knew him the most.
It was like being swept into a wind tunnel. They were both frantic for each other, not caring for a moment that they both knew, meeting in the urgent, frantic coupling that they had been building towards since she’d stepped back into his life.
She was coming as hard and as fast as he, because both knew if they gave it one second of thought they’d stop.
She was shivering tightly around him even after they’d come, and then they stopped, both silent and breathless, both knowing they were wrong. Knowing they’d regret it, but still okay with what they’d done.
Or just accepting of their punishment? He didn’t even know as he let her down.
Alicia tried to pull her straps up, but one was broken and she looked up at him, at a loss, as they stared at each other.
‘It’s okay.’
Dante didn’t even know his own voice. He was stunned. Not so much that they had had sex—that had been inevitable since the second their lives had crossed paths again—but at the intensity of it.
He never lost his head, and yet the world could have ended, the sea could have pulled back, the sky gone dark, and he wouldn’t have cared. And it was still there. For there was need, want and care between them.
He brushed her hair back from her face as he tried to find words.
