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I groaned, the fullness immense, the intimacy of our joining overwhelming as he pressed his face against my neck, his breathing harsh and shallow.
He swore in Italian, the words guttural and hoarse, then began to move. This time, unlike that night four years ago, the roll of his hips was clumsy, frantic, erratic, but no less forceful. I clung to him, the pleasure sparking and swelling as he pressed against a spot only he had ever found. I held on, the orgasm already shockingly close.
He pumped into me, once, twice and already I was cresting. I bowed up, cried out, the pleasure charging through me with startling intensity.
He shouted out his own release, then dropped on top of me, his heavy weight crushing me into the lounger, his body trembling, shaking, the still huge erection softening inside me.
I lay still, my body sore, the afterglow fading fast to be replaced with shock. How could the sexual connection between us still be so intense, so vivid, so immediate?
He rolled off me, then sat up, tugging his fingers through his hair, his head bent, his back rigid. He looked exhausted. But I stopped myself from reaching out to touch him, swallowed down the urge to ask him if he was okay.
I shouldn’t care. I couldn’t care. The fear gripped me again.
I scrambled off the lounger, desperate to return to the safety of my small villa, to finish my packing and leave first thing in the morning.
I scooped the towel up and wrapped it around myself. He hadn’t said anything, the silence between us even more oppressive than the huge lump of anguish pressing against my chest.
I snatched up my swimsuit. This had been a mistake. A stupid, pathetic mistake. Thank goodness he couldn’t run after me on his bad leg. But I walked too close to the lounger and he grabbed my arm.
‘Era buona per te?’he asked, his voice raw.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian,’ I said, stupidly polite.
His thumb rubbed the hammering pulse in my wrist. ‘I am asking you, Jessie,’ he murmured, using my given name for the first time since I had known him. Why did that feel significant when it shouldn’t? ‘Did you climax?’
Heat fired into my cheeks. I was so surprised by the question, and the uncertainty in his tone, which was so unlike the man I had once known, who was always so confident about his ability to please a woman, I was speechless for a moment.
‘I... Yes. I did,’ I managed at last, the lump—now jammed in my throat—making it hard to get the words out.
He nodded, the relief on his face, and the flash of vulnerability, shocking me even more.
A rueful smile tugged at his lips. ‘It has been a long time,’ he said. ‘Toolong. It seems I must work at this too. I will do better next time.’
Next time?
The stupid lump expanded and I knew I couldn’t risk a next time. It had been a very long time for me too. Far too long. But I could never tell him he was the only man I had ever slept with. It would only leave me even more exposed and powerless.
‘I’m tired. I should go to bed.’ I struggled against his hold and he let me go. He was weary too.
‘We will speak more of this tomorrow, yes?’ he said. It sounded more like a demand than a request. Some things about him would never change, I realised.
‘Sure,’ I lied, stupidly grateful when he made no move to stop me as I dashed away.
I rushed up the steps carved into the rock wall. And I didn’t look back. The soreness between my thighs was nothing compared to the choking sensation in my throat.
It was not until I got back to the housekeeper’s cottage, and stood in the shower, that the raw sobs finally burst out of my mouth.
I sank down in the shower cubicle, let the hot water pound over me—washing away the scent of salt and him. I hugged my knees to my chest, tight, as my body was wracked by the wrenching sobs I had held in for too long.
For the pregnancy I had lost. But also for the girl I had once been. Who was so eager to be wanted, she had invested far more in that long ago encounter than she had ever realised until now.
Enough to want to bring that girl back, if only for one night.
But that girl was long gone, I realised, as I dragged my aching body out of the shower, climbed into bed and set my phone alarm, so I could leave the estate tomorrow before Renzo knew I was gone.
But when I finally tumbled into sleep, my dreams were haunted by dark, and devastatingly erotic visions. Of the Renzo from long ago, and the Renzo I knew now, who was as broken as I was. But who could still make me ache for more.
CHAPTER TEN
