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‘Really?’ Josh and Rachel? God, was everyone in the world having sex but her?
Which reminded her …
‘I guess, you have … erm …’ Oh, God, she could feel herself going red.
‘Protection?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Of course.’
She felt so naive. So inexperienced. A man like Franco Chatsfield probably didn’t leave home without condoms. And that thought didn’t bear thinking about so she just smiled weakly and pushed the loose strands of hair back behind her ears while Franco rounded the car to open her door. Then her door was open and Franco offered his hand and his eyes were smouldering and there was no turning back.
Oh, boy.
Around them vines slumbered on their wires under an ink-blue night sky while gum leaves scarcely shivered on the soft breeze. It was like the whole world was holding its breath.
‘It was a great party, wasn’t it?’ Holly said, needing to fill the silence.
‘And everyone was so happy for me,’ she babbled as they made their way down the path. ‘It seemed like everyone from the district was there.’
He unlocked the door and she walked inside, still spilling words. ‘And that lamb! Oh, my God, how good was that lamb!’
‘Holly,’ he said, snapping on the heater and putting the wine in the fridge.
‘And did you get to try one of Angela’s olives? Only she does the best olives. Brought the recipe with her from Puglia. It was her grandmother’s and her grandmother’s before that.’
‘Holly,’ he said again, reaching for her hand.
‘Yes?’
He spun her hard against him. ‘Shut up.’ His mouth silenced hers with a kiss that started at her lips and went all the way down. His mouth was hot, his body hard, and she knew when to argue and when to take advice. And right now was no time to argue.
The man knew how to kiss. God knows how many women he’d practised his technique upon, or how many tutors he’d learned from along the way, but he was expert, very expert. And that tongue? That tongue was so wicked it should come with a government health warning.
It lured hers into the dance, of breath and mouth and lips and tongue, a dance between two, a dance with one purpose. One end.
She joined the dance, of breath and mouth and lips and tongue, and danced with him, craving that end. Needing it.
And his hands moulded her to him, one hand in the small of her back, the other on her behind, so they were connected chest to chest, thigh to thigh, length to length. And she ached, knowing that still it wasn’t close enough.
They wouldn’t be close enough until he was inside her.
And she needed more than anything for him to be inside her.
Now.
His mouth still making magic on hers, she splayed the fingers of one hand on his chest and moved them slowly south, over the hard-packed chest, to his well-formed abdomen, to the bulge that ridged his fine Italian trousers, and he growled into her mouth.
‘Please?’ she whimpered back, because she didn’t know how else to show her desperation. ‘Please?’
He blinked down at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ‘Didn’t you ever hear, Holly, that patience is a virtue?’
‘Patience is overrated.’
His face grew serious as he drew circles on her cheek with his thumb. ‘Fast isn’t good, Holly, not the first time.’
And Holly pressed her lips together because it was the wrong answer.
‘Why don’t you get into bed,’ he suggested, ‘while I get the wine?’
She nodded, teeth gnawing at her lip. It would be progress of sorts.
He put a finger to her lips to stop her teeth. ‘I’ll be right back.’
She wasted no time kicking off her shoes and peeling off her shirt and pants, sliding between sheets bearing delicious Franco’s scent, and anticipation ratcheted up yet another notch.
She sure needed that wine.
She heard the pop of the cork and the fizz of rushing wine and her nerves built to fever pitch and then he was there, bearing two flutes filled with the golden liquid. He sat down on the bed beside her and she scooted up as he handed her a glass.
‘Here’s to Holly Purman,’ he said, ‘soon to be ex-virgin.’ She laughed nervously and took a sip and then another. Perfect. And he took her glass away, put them both on the side table and leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. ‘Mmm,’ he murmured, ‘vintage Holly,’ and then, still kissing her, dispensed with shoes and trousers and his chest-hugging sweater.
He straightened only to peel down that band of black and she watched as he swung free, magnificent and proud, and she fizzed like that wine at the thought of him inside her. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she said, and he smiled as he peeled back the covers from her chest, his hungry eyes feasting on her breasts dressed in a soft pink-and-white-striped bra. His erection twitched.
