His eyes narrow and darken. Lightning quick, he reaches out to grip my waist, to still my movements, but I’m too far gone as my hips roll over him, instinctively giving us both what we’re most desperate for.
“Keep your arm out of the water,” he orders.
I can’t help but smile at his concern and the huskiness in his voice. I love how I’m affecting him. I let my hands glide up into his hair, teasing the short dark strands, all the while ensuring my tattoo is nowhere near the water.
Then his hands move from my waist, curving up over my stomach, my ribs, my breasts—pausing, teasing, kneading—and then moving up to my neck as he tugs me closer. We’re already panting as our faces drift together. Our lips remain a hair’s breadth apart. He shakes his head slowly,no, so our mouths connect ever so briefly but don’t linger. An ache builds in me to a breaking point as he dangles his kiss like a carrot over my head. I only have so much patience with these almost kisses and the longing they stir inside me. My fingers tighten in his hair. My eyes close.
Then it happens.
Cristiano kisses me. Soft yet commanding, his mouth slants over mine. My stomach bottoms out and then fills with tempting pleasure as our mouths open to each other at the same moment.Cristiano makes a deep noise of approval and I slide farther down onto him, parting my legs even more as our bodies rock together.
There’s so much fire between us, but I also feel an overwhelming sense of safety in his arms as he holds me to his chest, kissing me. He laps at my lips, parting them with his tongue, stoking a longing deep inside me until my body starts to quiver.
Sometime later, after my lips feel swollen and I’m lightheaded and panting, he breaks the kiss and I tip toward him, still aching for more.
I drag my finger across his bottom lip, pouting. “That was barely a taste.”
His lips curve into a heart-stopping smile at my impatience. Incensed, I lean in and kiss him again with raw hunger, trying to prove how badly I want him.
Our kiss becomes fire burning between us as my arms circle his neck and my hips roll over his lap. He groans like he’s in agony. His shaky breath matches my own.
“Can you be quiet for me?”
I inhale sharply at his captivating words.
“Hmm? Are you going to be good, Isabel?”
His knuckle trails down my cheek as I shiver, then nod frantically, unsure exactly what I’m agreeing to, but I don’t care.
He’s already lifting me up. “Turn around and sit back against me.”
I dutifully comply, but I’m not happy about facing away, out toward the endless sea. I preferred my view of Cristiano. The water laps at my lower ribs as he settles me into position, tipping me back against his broad chest so his warmth envelops me. His thick arm bands around my stomach, holding me in place on hislap. He feels impossibly hard beneath me, and I can’t help but roll my hips, trying to feel more of him.
His arm tightens in an attempt to keep me still, but he doesn’t succeed, not until his other hand trails down my body, wandering over my stomach and hips, slipping between my legs. I tense at the first feel of his featherlight touch over my swimsuit bottom, but he withdraws and repeats the same maddening trail over my body until my thighs relax and welcome him. I’m holding my breath, internally pleading forsomething.
My heart feels like it’s pulling out of my chest when his hand finally slides back between my legs. He whispers praising words into my hair, running his fingers back and forth over the material covering the center of my legs. With each pass, he gets nearer to where I desperately need him.
“Ah…”
“Déjame. Let me.”
I do. Shamelessly surrendering, arching into his sensual touch. Then his hands inch beneath the waistband of my bathing suit. Finally his skilled fingers touch me, moving beneath the turquoise material as my body melts against him and my mouth forms a silent O.
The hand he had around my waist climbs up to toy with my bikini top, slipping beneath the wet material, kneading my full breast before hooking a finger under the fabric and tugging it aside. I love the deep moan that rumbles against my back when he looks down over me. He does the same with the other side of my bikini, baring me to him, and then, in his husky voice, he tells me just how much I please him as he takes each breast, one after the other, in his hands, palming and teasing until I feel boneless.
“Looking at you in this bikini all morning has beenun tormento. You should have heard the little whimpers you let escape when I was applying your sunscreen. Did you even realize?”
His fingers close over the tip of one breast and he tugs, the ache mingling with my growing need.
“Cristiano,” I beg.
He tuts. “You promised you could be quiet.”
His hand comes up like a collar around my neck. He uses his index finger to tip my head back so he can scrape his teeth along my skin, gently biting down as his other hand finds its way between my thighs once again. I arch against his fingers as he plays with me on top of my bikini, but then that fabric gets brushed aside, too. His fingers trace either side of me, working me up to a fever pitch before he finally sinks two of them inside me.
“Yes…”
There’s a feeling of rightness mixing with the fear of how easily we could be caught. I know Cristiano said his crew knows to leave him alone, but still, if Beth wanders out to ask if we need anything, she’ll see what Cristiano is doing to me and I’ll never recover from the embarrassment… and yet…
