Chapter Twenty-seven
She fell asleep to the sound of his deep voice describing La Mer and his sweet, funny stories about Adrian and his childhood adventures there, fishing in the sea or playing knights in the surrounding countryside. She awoke to the sensation of his mouth blazing a trail of sensation across her neck, chest, and breasts, his upper body rearing over her, his hands holding her wrists above her head.
Later, she’d allowed him to bind her to the bed. He’d sensed her disquietude at being completely restrained—arms and legs both. He’d owned her anxiety, taking pains and expending patience to ease it, building her pleasure until he’d turned her uncertainty to dust from a conflagration of pure need. At one point after she’d surrendered to climax several times, he’d entered her, and she’d closed her eyes at the almost unbearable fullness of her desire.
Look at me, he’d demanded during those ecstatic moments as he pounded into her, taking her by storm.
With her eyelids clamped tight and his voice in her ears, she’d realized she was living a dream she’d had before. With a strange thrill, she’d pried open her eyes and saw him over her, naked and savage, bracing himself on muscular arms, his beautiful, ridged abdomen sheened with perspiration, his face rigid, his eyes burning straight through her. He thrust his hips and grunted gutturally, his muscular arms bulging huge, the twin tattoo flashing in her dazed eyes. She felt his cock jerk and swell. Then he was erupting inside her, his warm semen filling her.
“Don’t you dare ever look away,” he grated out fiercely as he came.
* * *
The next morning, they’d lingered in bed, stroking one another, talking of both serious matters and trivial ones. In a moment of mutual laughter, Emma had seen the warmth in his eyes and felt their bond tighten. Never again would she feel shy or self-conscious or disconnected from him.
At least that’s what she’d thought at the time.
In the dark corners of her mind and spirit, however, that swelling feeling in her chest worried her. Had she given him too many days and weeks? If she felt like this now, how would she be weeks in the future?
It was like her present-day self—the woman who nestled skin to skin with Vanni, laughing and touching and making love, was sacrificing her future self, building up memories that one day would harm her, recollections that would pierce instead of warm. But it was so hard to acknowledge that looking into his face and seeing the heat in his eyes and his precious, small smiles . . . and every so often those bright, brilliant ones that made her heart squeeze in her chest.
There were moments when she thought she might sacrifice almost anything to see him happy, just once.
It was nearly impossible to focus on her future pain when she was in the intoxicating clutches of falling in love.
* * *
Finally, they’d arisen at around eleven and showered. It looked hot and sunny out when Vanni drew the curtains. He suggested they go for a swim, and then left her in the bedroom to go and retrieve the bikini top, sandals, and cover-up that he’d left poolside yesterday. When they went down together later, a table between two lounge chairs had been arranged with flowers, juice, coffee, fruit, and a covered basket of luscious-looking buns and rolls.
“Are there people in the house?” Emma asked after they’d swum and were eating their breakfast in the hot summer sun. She’d been curious about who had prepared the tray.
“Yes, Vera asked the cook for it and brought it out when I told her you were here,” Vanni said as he paged through messages on his phone, looking every bit like a distracted bronzed god wearing nothing but his low-riding swim trunks.
“You told her I was here?” Emma asked, setting down her coffee. Vanni glanced up, doing a double take when he saw her expression.
“Vera? Yes. She’d already found your suit and things by the pool and brought them in, so she already knew someone was here. Why do you look like that?”
It was a little mortifying, thinking of Mrs. Shaw discovering clothing Emma’
d removed during a sybaritic moment with Vanni. “I told you, she doesn’t like me.”
His eyebrows quirked at that. “It’s what I think that matters.” Emma rolled her eyes at his cockiness. His lips tilted and he handed her his phone. He clearly thought the topic of Vera was too inconsequential to pursue.