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‘Or we accept our chemistry as part of our lives.’
His eyes intense, he prowled towards her. ‘The things I could teach you,piccolina...’
Her eyes travelled down from his thick throat to his broad muscular shoulders, then to the fine black hair over his washboard abs, and lingered on the V leading down beneath his jeans.
His muscles rippled with tension. Her insides clenched with instant desire. To be with him.Again.
‘Then teach me, Raffaele,’ she said, and her heart hammered.
Because she knew—could feel it in the heart of her soul—that the boy who’d become a man, whose mother hadn’t loved him enough, whose father had rejected him, didn’t understand family and didn’t know love.
But she did.
‘You want me to teach you the pleasures of the body?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
He reached for her, put his thumb and forefinger beneath her chin. He gripped it, looked into her eyes. Searched them. Deeply. And she let him seek out her secrets, let him understand what she wanted, with her unflinching stare.
His voice ragged, he said, ‘Until it burns out?’
‘Ifit burns out,’ she insisted.
‘It will,’ he assured her.
‘And you want that?’
He moved his hand down her chin to grip her throat with light fingers. ‘I want the self-control not to touch you.’
‘Love me until you can control yourself, then.’ Her mouth parted and she lifted her chin and pushed it into his palm. ‘Until you can touch me without feeling the way I feel when you touch me.’
‘Howdo you feel when I touch you?’
‘I want you,’ she admitted. ‘Inside me. Again and again.’
He swiped his thumb against the hammering pulse in her throat. ‘And now?’
‘I want to make love all over again,’ she said.
‘The temptation to do it again doesn’t frighten you any more?’ he asked. ‘That feeling made you run from my bed once...’
‘That was six weeks ago. I’m not that woman now. I’m not afraid.’
‘You should be.’
‘Not of you,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘And not of myself,’ she said.
And those words felt powerful.Shefelt powerful. Fearless.
She let the blanket slip from her shoulders. ‘Not of this...’
He moved his hands to grip her hips and drag her body into his. ‘Just until we leave the boat,’ he said, his mouth hovering over hers.
‘Or not,’ she replied, and moved forward to catch his mouth.
But he leaned away. ‘It will end,’ he promised, and then he slammed his mouth against hers. Making his words the last.
Flora thrust her hands into his hair and pushed her tongue into his mouth. She was going to make sure his promise was one he couldn’t keep. He might teach her the pleasures of the body. But she would teach him love.
