Chiara had loved boating with Tore in the summer and we’d often spent long days exploring the grottos cut into the rock near Naples and on Capri. I scrounged through the faded memories in search of one near our location and laughed like a madman with exhilaration when the dark notch of a cave peeked out from the rocks ahead of us.
“Hold on, lottatrice mia,” I bellowed, edging the engine even faster to put as much space between us and the enemy boat as possible.
There was a curve in the cliffside just before the grotto. We’d have maybe six to ten seconds of invisibility before they rounded the corner behind us.
Just enough time to slip into the rock crevice.
“Dante,” Elena called, panic finally edging into her tone as we aimed headlong at the rock.
The cave was visible from this angle. It was only a shadow, a secret tucked between two bulging stones.
“Dante!”
I didn’t answer because it was a tight maneuver. One second, we were gunning toward the cove and the next, I cut the engine entirely, twisting the wheel just enough to nose directly into the thin gap.
Elena screamed.
Two second later, we were between the mountains, only clearly the rock by inches on either side.
It was suddenly quiet, the outside world muffled by the white stone walls and deep, sapphire waters.
“Dio mio,” Elena breathed from behind me as I ducked under a low stalagmite.
When I turned, she was sitting against the back row of seats, the gun held loosely in one hand, her head tipped up to look at the ceiling as the grotto finally opened up into a wide, low cave.
“How did you know this was here?” she asked in awe.
I moved to the bow to release the anchor, the chains rattling through my hands as the heavy metal fell to the depths, caught on the rocky ground and held.
“There are grottos all along the coast,” I offered as I moved back to the stern, looking over her. “We used to explore them with Chiara and Tore as boys.”
Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with adrenaline. If it hadn’t been obvious to me before, it was now that my woman got turned on by danger.
We stared at each other for a long moment, the tension between us crackling and popping like blazing kindling.
We moved at the same time.
She surged up as I bent down, hauling her into my arms against my chest. Her wedding dress was sea soaked and plastered to her form, her nipples hard as pebbles beneath the cold silk. Her lips were cold too, but her tongue was hot against mine, her mouth silken as I plundered it ruthlessly. I needed the taste of her to cool the rage biting at the back of my throat, threatening to overwhelm me. The feel of her worked strange alchemy on the fury and transmuted it into desire that razed through me until all I knew was her.
I growled as her hands pulled my shirt at of my trousers, nails raking over my abs then down my groin as she pulled my hard length into her palm. Trapped between my waistband and my belly, she could only squeeze, barely moving just pulsing her grip in time with my throbbing heartbeat.
It made me crazy.
I licked at her lips, sucking and biting them until they were swollen, ripe with my bruising kisses. When I was done marking that mouth, I moved to her neck, down to her exposed chest in that understated but sexy as fuck gown. When I reached the fabric of the straight cut neckline, I rolled it down her arms, trapping them at her sides while exposing her tight breasts to my scrutiny.
She let me cage her in the wedding dress, lashes fluttering as she fought to keep her eyes open and on me while I lavished her nipples with my teeth and tongue.
We didn’t speak even though I loved to tell her how I would fuck her, how she was responding to me. The cave was mostly dark, lit by an eerie light that swam up through the depthless blue waters and cast the entire cave in a neon glow. It lent itself to silence, to a quiet, urgent conquest of each other’s bodies underscored only by our harsh breaths and the light lap of water against the rocking boat.
Her breasts heated with my ministrations, the skin red even in the blue light thanks to my teeth and the rasp of my five o’clock shadow. I plumped both swells in my hands and alternated between the two, treating each like a decadent feast.
“Dio mio, Dante,” she finally panted softly. “I think I could come just from this.”
“Bene,” I growled against her trembling flesh. “This is how a man loves a woman with his body, Lena. He takes his time to pull her apart seam by seam until she is unravelled completely in his arms.”