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“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, and she complied eagerly.
Breath like bellows, he carried them into their bedroom and shut the door with his foot. “Against the wall?” he asked, dipping down to claim her mouth again.
Now that he knew what he was going to do, now that he knew his course, his control was threadbare. There was that cavernous hunger inside him again—desperate, yawning, for everything she could give.
“You know I’m ready,” she said.
He did know. She was already wet and warm and ready for him.
“This is going to be rough,” he said in warning. “I need it fast and hard.”
She clasped his cheek, something wicked and joyous shining in the depths of her eyes. “I want whatever you want. I want you to have whatever you want, however you want it.”
Christian leaned his forehead against hers, even as desire and the need to claim her beat at him. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, drowning in the love in her eyes. God, how was he going to walk away from this? How was he going to leave her, not knowing what waited for them on the other side?
She bit his lower lip, a sort of punishment he realized when she said, “No, Christian, you deserve me. And I deserve you. We both deserve this happiness.” Tears gathered in her eyes and she rubbed her nose against his. “And I deserve the fabulous climax that my wicked husband always delivers.”
He laughed and kissed her.
He put her down on her feet for the moment it took to pull her shorts and panties down. Another moment—one too long—had his sweatpants down. He lifted her, placed his left hand between the wall and her back, and without another word, he thrust into her waiting warmth.
He groaned and she moaned out a filthy curse and he did it again.
Even with his hand buffering her, her head went thud against the wall every time he withdrew and thrust again. With each stroke, he went deeper and faster. He bent and licked the shell of her ear, pleasure already pooling low in his spine. “Touch yourself, Starling. Come for me. I don’t want to go over without you.”
Her eyes wide, she stared at him for a second. Then she grinned and it was the most beautiful thing Christian had ever seen. And he knew, in that moment, that even if he lost his memories again, he would always remember her exactly in this moment.
Her hand snuck down to between where they were joined and the sight of one long finger rubbing at the plump bundle at the apex of her thighs had Christian cursing. Bending, he took one taut nipple in his mouth. And then he withdrew again. Thrust in again.
He rolled his hips, holding her against the wall, holding his release back by the skin of his teeth. And when she made that sound deep in her throat, when she fractured around him, drenching him in the waves of her release, Christian let go of the last thread of his control. He pounded into her, until her tight sheath, her moans, her hands, her breath was all he knew and soon, he was splintering, pleasure suffusing the ache of his decision.
But only for a second.
Because loving Priya and walking away from her was going to tear him apart, all over again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THESKYWASa shimmering dark blanket when Priya walked out into the covered patio at the back of the villa an hour later. All Christian had said was that they needed to talk and would she join him outside.
There had been such a serious note to his voice that she’d nodded. Her knees still shaking when he released her, she’d told him she wanted to change into something warm before she met him outside.
“Wear that sweatshirt,” he’d whispered, pressing a fast, fierce kiss to her upturned lips. “I like seeing you in my clothes.”
So here she was, wearing his sweatshirt.
A cacophony of sounds welcomed her—the shush of the ocean waves, songbirds calling out and the soft melody of the sitar record that was playing.
She hadn’t missed the fact that it was their last night on the island. Was he worried about returning to real life? Did he think she’d balk if he didn’t want to return? Did he still not realize that her home, her heart was wherever he was? If he wanted to live on this island forever—give up the company, the mansion, the lifestyle, the parties—she’d do it in a heartbeat.
He was home for her, wherever he was.
The last two and a half weeks of their month’s stay had moved at warp speed. Maybe because she and Christian had spent every night tangled up in each other. And not just to help him sleep. Which she could tell he was struggling with, as much as ever.
As he was with his frequent headaches. If it wasn’t the first two, it was his therapy sessions that left him close to breakdown. And while it hurt her—like a thorny knot to see him in pain, in confusion—Priya didn’t indulge it even for a second.
She’d never let him down that way. Never. The only relief he had from them was that he was coding again, all the hours he spent with Jayden and her, and the nights they spent exploring each other to their hearts’ content.
Doing all the wicked, wanton things she could come up with.
