His smile is slow and dangerous. "Because I want to watch you get wet before I make you wet."
Heat pools low in my belly.
I go inside.
The ocean is cold and perfect.
I wade in up to my waist, gasping at the temperature, and Salvatore is right behind me, moving through the water with the same controlled intensity he brings to everything.
"Come here," he says.
I turn, and he's already there, hands at my waist, lifting me effortlessly so my legs wrap around him.
The water rises and falls around us.
"Hi," I say.
"Hi."
He kisses me, slow and deep, his hands splayed across my back, holding me against him. I can feel him already hard beneath his swim trunks, pressing against me through the thin fabric of my bikini bottoms.
I reach down.
"Not yet." He bites my lower lip. "I told you. I want to take my time."
"I don't want to anticipate. I want you inside me."
His grip tightens. "You'll get what you want when I decide to give it to you."
There he is. The controlled Don.
He carries me deeper into the water, and we swim until my muscles are loose and warm, until the sun is directly overhead and the beach is blazing hot when we finally walk back onto the sand.
"Inside," he says. "Shower. Then lunch."
"You're very bossy on vacation."
"I just want everything to be perfect." He swats my ass as I walk past him. "Move."
I move.
Lunch is on the terrace.
Cold wine, fresh bread, grilled fish that tastes like it was caught this morning. We eat slowly, and I watch him across the table. The way the light catches in his dark hair, still damp from the shower, the way his linen shirt hangs open at the collar.
"You're staring," he says without looking up.
"I'm admiring my husband."
"Mm." He reaches for his wine. "Admire faster. We have plans this afternoon."
"What plans?"
He looks at me then, and the heat in his eyes makes my stomach flip.
"I'm going to fuck you on the beach," he says calmly. "Then I'm going to bring you inside and fuck you again in the shower. Then, if you're very good, I'll let you come."
"If I'm good?"
