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‘Thank you,’ she said, turning towards him. ‘I really mean it. I can’t believe I have an investigator and everything...’
She smiled, because she didn’t want to spoil tonight, and they kissed instead against the cold stone wall and she thought she might die there and then as his hands slid over silver.
He was really dreadful for her self-control, because he moved her into a dark archway and kissed her hard and deep, pressed against her.
It was better than anything she could imagine.
‘Don’t stop.’ She was breathless. ‘No one comes here at night...’
She was at his erection, and she made him laugh.
‘There’s a night tour,’ he said.
‘You’re bad for me, Dante.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe we’re bad for each other.’
Maybe not.
Soon he was climbing the stairs with her on his back, and she didn’t feel heavy, and she was glimpsing little glimmers of possibility, like the stars that battled for attention beside an almost full moon.
Glimmers where there had been none.
‘Whose room?’ he asked as he put her down, all shining in silver in his lounge.
‘Whoever gets naked and rings the bell first,’ Alicia said.
She wanted to pull that rope just one time, and she knew she would win because she had on just a dress and no shoes or bra. Except she sat naked and alone on the pink bed for a moment, and felt both as happy and as sad as she knew how to be. So she took out her mirror and reminded herself that she would not be telling him that this was love.
He’d known her long enough.
Then she heard the bell.
‘Merda!’It was Alicia who swore.
‘Language!’ he called from the other room.
And so she was off to the torture bed, and his arms, and she was so glad they’d waited, because he was able to take his time kissing every bit of her skin thoroughly.
She lay on her stomach as he kissed every rib and moved down her spine, where water had dripped that long-ago day, and she tried to fill in the lost years, and all the things she had never done.
‘Turn over.’
And he kissed down her thighs to a place only he could be, and she was holding her breath so tight she thought she might faint.
He was impatient, and thorough, and then impatient again, and then he just burrowed in deeper.
Such an odd mood, Dante thought. Because he could feel her on the edge, not giving in to the bliss that was waiting.
He was also holding back—but for different reasons.
They were fighting an odd fight.
But he won, because he felt her let go of his hair, and then the shudder and the pulse on his lips.
‘Dante...’
She wanted recovery, to somehow catch her breath, but he’d only given her a glimpse of what this day would be like, and there was none.
He was inside her and he was holding her arms up and they were locked in one another’s eyes, and then, when she found herself near, he pulled out and turned her around.
