The hunger in his eyes was intense and she swallowed hard, a fizz of exhilaration rushing through her. When he leant towards her, she met him halfway, as eager for this as him. Her own hunger was devouring her, eating her from the inside out, turning her to liquid. Her bones were jelly and she sank into him, savouring his solidity, his scent, his maleness, the sheer bulk of him as he caged her in his arms, his mouth capturing hers. She couldn’t think, could only feel, and what she was feeling was a desire so strong it robbed her of breath. There wasn’t enough air.
His hand was on the back of her head, his fingers in her hair; the other was on her waist, and her skin flamed at his touch as his mouth explored hers.
She made a small noise, part pleasure, part frustration, and he drew back, concern in his eyes.
The concern changed into something else entirely when she led him inside and took him to bed…
Chapter 18
‘I’d better get back,’ Rocco said, making absolutely no attempt whatsoever to get up. It was mid-afternoon and he was lying in Giselle’s bed, where they’d spent most of the previous four days since the games. He was far too comfy to move – and horny.
Her head was on his chest, her arm lying across his stomach, one leg hooked over his, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel every inch of her again. And again, and…
‘I’d better create some pictures,’ Giselle said, although she didn’t make any move to get up either. Or rather, shedid, but not the kind of move that lent itself to getting out of bed.
There was a sort of up involved, though, as she climbed on top of him, smiling wickedly.
‘Not just yet,’ she added, her lips hovering above his. ‘Kiss me.’
His breathing was ragged, his voice hoarse. He couldn’t get enough of her. With a groan, he buried his fingers in her hair, pulling her head down—
And then his phone rang.
Rocco groaned again, but this time with frustration.
‘Do you need to answer that?’ Giselle asked.
‘No, what I need isyou,’ he replied, waiting for it to stop. ‘Where were we?’
‘Here, I believe,’ she said, nibbling his neck. ‘And here.’
It rang again.
‘For goodness’ sake!’ he cried. ‘Can’t a man have five minutes’ peace?’
‘I think you’ll find you’ve had more than five minutes,’ Giselle giggled.
‘Let me get rid of them.’ He eased himself out of bed and down the ladder, wishing he’d put the damned thing on silent, or had turned it off completely. He’d left it in the pocket of his jeans, which were currently on the floor near the sofa, along with the rest of his hastily discarded clothing.
‘Nice view,’ she called, and he glanced over his shoulder to find her leaning over the balustrade, her chin resting on her folded arms as she ogled his bare backside.
Rocco blew her a cheeky kiss.
His phone stopped as he got to it, but began ringing again almost immediately. ‘It’s Cal,’ he said, filled with sudden worry. ‘Hi, what’s wrong?’
‘Your mother is asking for you. She’s—’ Cal paused, lowering his voice ‘—quite insistent.’
‘Tell her I’ll call her later. It’s not really convenient right now.’ Then he added hastily, ‘No need to mention that last bit.’
‘There most definitely isn’t,’ his mother said frostily, ‘because she can hear you.’
Rocco froze. ‘Beverly?’
‘The very same.’
‘What—? Why are you on Cal’s phone?’ The penny dropped. She washere, wasn’t she? On Skye. In Duncoorie. In the castle.
‘Because,’ she replied, ‘heseems to be able to get through to you when no one else can.’
