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“Run, love.” That hungry timbre causes my walls to clench, and my nipples to throb. “I love a good chase.”
“Have fun trying!” I yell back, pushing my legs to go faster. My eyes are fixed on the water's edge; I’m going to dive in and swim a bit out but stop when my feet touch something soft.
Looking down, I’m standing on a large blanket surrounded by lit torches and a small speaker. The notes coming through it are soft, sounds like Bossa Nova, and I’m gasping—not understanding.
“Told you I’d catch you,” Callum croons low, his arms wrapping around me from behind. “Now, I think you owe me a reward.”
“Callum, what’s—”
“Dance with me.”
27
She’s soft in my arms. Pliant and sweet, and I pull her in closer.
With her back to my front, I sway us in tune with the sensual cadence of the music playing. This feels good; having her lithe body move against me is a sinful experience that both sends you to heaven while condemning you to hell.
Heaven for her beautiful soul.
Hell for the wrath our world will face after we leave Brazil.
I’ve bloody condemned us both.
The music changes and a well-known song begins to play. It’s the original version, the words sung in Portuguese about a beautiful girl walking by and I can’t help but compare the woman in my arms to her.
Everyone she passes turns their head. You can’t help but to feel enamored with her mere presence.
Twirling her about, I extend my arm all the way and then curl it back, this time bringing us chest to chest. I hold her closer. My face lowers to hers and I can’t stop myself from skimming that mouth—from tasting the little keening sound that escapes her. “I need you, my Venus. Can I keep you?”
Not that she has much of a choice since I’ll chase her to the ends of the earth if I have to. I’ll spend my life convincing this treasure that the only man who can cherish her perfection is the man holding her.
Only me. Always me.
“Callum, I…” I don’t hear anything else. Not after the breathy way she said my name and the subtle shift in her thighs, the rising pink on her cheeks at my question and all its implications.
How can such a simple request bring out the most delicious responses in her?
So decadent. So inviting.
It seals her fate and mine. There is no going back for either of us.
She’s mine. In this life and every reincarnation, we’re granted.
Fuck the past, her family, and the circumstances keeping us apart. The bad timing.
Whatever deity my Venus believes in screwed her with a man like me, but I’d never let her go. What we are—this insanity—I have no doubt that it’ll always be.
This heat. The throbbing fucking yearning to always be near her is all-consuming—it dominates my senses—and nothing short of my cock buried deep within her tight walls will ever be enough. I crave the connection. I need her—just her.
No more waiting.
Cupping the back of her neck with one hand, I skim my lips up her throat, tipping her body back to gain better access. We don’t stop swaying, touching, but her needy moan is my undoing when I nip her collarbone.
That sound is precious. I want more of it.
Standing us both upright, I lay my forehead against hers. “You haven’t answered me, love.”
“You already know my response,” she whispers immediately, looking up at me from beneath long lashes.
