When he found the heart of me, he pressed his thumb there as he slid a finger inside my body.
Then, for a long, heated while, there was only his thumb, his finger, and his mouth on mine, demanding and marvelous.
He added a second finger, and I sighed a little bit against him as he stretched me, but I took it.
With his other hand, he gripped my neck. And kept right on kissing me, deep and carnal.
There was a pressure between my legs, a pressure plus a glorious heat and longing.
There was also a pressure on my neck, and that grip became a little bit harder and then a little bit harder still. And the more I bucked against it, the more my hips moved and the more I delivered myself into his hands.
I began to shiver, and he growled in approval.
“Come, Rux,” he ordered me. “Come hard on my hand and deliver yourself to me.”
And I did it. I obeyed him.
I clenched down hard on his fingers and sensation ripped through me, so intense it was almost like it hurt—
But the hurt was good. It was so good.
And his hand was on my throat, tighter and tighter, and just as the storm in me exploded I felt him press even harder.
Everything was delicious, bright hot and delirious.
Then it went dark.
And when I woke up, I was in Sicily.
CHAPTER NINE
IWAS GROGGY. My eyes were heavy, and it felt like there was sand in my throat.
My throat, I thought, and that penetrated the strange fog I was in.
I lifted my hand for my throat, expecting it to feel swollen and strange, but it felt the same as it always had. The fog receded a bit. I felt myself come back as if I’d been somewhere far, far away, and I understood.
It was me who was different.
I sat up then and found myself tangled in the sheets of a simple bed that was the only piece of furniture in an otherwise bare room. But it wasn’t just any room. The walls were paneled, the ceiling frescoed, and the floor gleamed with age and wealth. I found myself pulling the sheet around me as I got to my feet, making my way gingerly and carefully over to the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows that I realized when I drew closer were doors.
Outside, I saw a ruined garden gleaming in the soft light. I saw lush trees in every direction. A mountain covered in scrub pine, rocks, and wildflowers set into deep, brown earth.
I opened the doors and stepped out onto the balcony and found the air sultry, like an embrace. And when I turned my head, I could see the sea.
Not only the sea. There was a city lying there between more hills, but it was the sea that caught at me. I’d never seen it before, that waiting, wondrous blue. I couldn’t believe that I was near to it now. That I was surrounded by water instead of locked into the land.
I swore I could feel the difference inside me, as if I’d always been meant to find my way to a place by the sea.
I could not hear another human, but that didn’t make it quiet. There was a riot of birds, wheeling and soaring all around. There was the rustle of wind through the trees and bushes, all of it scented of salt and lemon.
I left the tall windows open to let it all in and turned back to the bedroom that felt elegant in its complete simplicity, realizing that I didn’t actually know if Jovi had dressed me at all. And it turned out I had more feelings—sensations—about the notion of being transported naked, though I wasn’t sure why that made a difference when it was still him doing it.
I lifted my hand and smelled my own skin, certain that he’d washed me. I didn’t smell like any of the products I used at home. I also didn’t smell like him.
Turned out, that made a whole set of new feelings swirl around inside me.
Down at the foot of the bed, I found a set of loose, flowing trousers and a simple T-shirt. I pulled them on, though I wondered about them, too. Where had he gotten them? Had he gone shopping after he’d knocked me out in Prague? Did he carry women’s clothing with him wherever he went?
