Page 6 of Seasons of Sin

“No.” The word was dragged from deep within his soul. “We didn’t sleep together.” He dropped his lips and pressed them to her neck. She startled and then moaned. It felt so good. It was so wrong, but so right. “Not yet, anyway.”

Pleasure was a fire bursting just beneath her skin. She lifted a hand to his chest, intending to push him aside, but her fingers splayed wide and then her other hand wrapped around his waist to grip his back. He was so warm, and so firm.

“I don’t know if I can,” she whimpered, but her body was weakening against his and they both knew that there was no denial she was capable nor inclined to give.

“Saphire,” he murmured, lifting his lips to take her earlobe between his teeth. He stroked it with his tongue and she felt herinsides turn to a huge puddle of passion. “You can. I think you will. But today, you should recover.”

“Recover?” Her heart turned over again. How much had she revealed to him?

“You had a fair amount to drink last night. I didn’t see you eat on the flight. You are in no state to enjoy what I’d like to do with you.”

Pleasurable anticipation warred with disappointment. He was completely right. She felt dreadful. And yet … she suspected he could obliterate all of that.

“The thing is,” she murmured, boldly running her hands down his back and slipping them into the waistband of what she now realized was his swimmers. “I think I’m still just a tiny bit drunk.” Her eyes were heavy with desire when they clicked with his. “Not so drunk that you need to worry you’re taking advantage of me. But drunk enough to have the confidence to say … to say something I wouldn’t normally.” She swallowed. “I want to sleep with you.”

I need to sleep with you.

It was a blinding stroke of comprehension for Saphire. Jordan had slept with Anita and God only knew how many times, and for how long, the affair had been going on. Since before they’d married? Saphire wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive either of them, but she did know that it would be impossible unless she did something similarly treacherous to her husband.

Jordan, always with a fragile ego, would never cope with the knowledge that his wife had been with a guy like this. Some handsome, Mediterranean hunk.

It went beyond a petty desire to hurt Jordan though. It was a need to level the playing field so that maybe, just maybe, she could think about forgiving and forgetting. After all, ten years of happiness shouldn’t be obliterated by a few stupid decisions. Right?

“I want this.” Her voice was husky. Her fingers curled around the curves of his ass. He was so firm and muscular. She shivered as she pulled him closer to her.

“There is no rush,” he assured her, but his fingers were pushing at the straps of her dress, slipping it lower over her body. He removed her bra at the same time. Those breasts had been calling to him since the moment she’d stormed onto the plane as though heaven and hell were nipping at her heels.

She nodded, but her hands pushed her dress down the rest of the way, then her underwear.

He stepped back, his eyes glowing as they appraised her painfully slowly. Her skin was a pearlescent white, like the petals of the fairest tulip. Her nipples were pink, like candy. Her stomach was flat and waist neat. “You should never wear clothes,” he said thickly, as he pulled on her wrist to bring her hard against his body.

“Okay,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and earning a laugh from him.

“I want to kiss you all over,” he growled, making good on his promise by dropping his mouth to her breasts and taking a taut nipple into his mouth. She buckled hard against him in sensual awareness. His tongue wrapped around it and she felt her legs begin to shake.

“Mr Konstanides …”

He laughed again, a sound that she realized she could become addicted to just as much as his looks and his touch. Out of nowhere, she thought of Jordan and guilt weakened her desire. But she pushed her unfaithful bastard of a husband aside.

In a weird, sick way, she was doing this for him. For their marriage.

He dragged his mouth to her other breast and subjected that nipple to the same treatment while his fingers began to roll the first, reassuring it that more pleasure would follow. He broughthis mouth to hers, and his kiss was hard and demanding. The pressure pushed her head back against the wall and his body pinned her there, demanding, firm, insistent.

“You want this?” He murmured, separating her legs with his hand and rolling his hips forward so that she could feel his erection deliciously close to her feminine heart.

She nodded. She did. Partly to earn revenge on Jordan, but also just because she did. It had never been like this for Saphire. She and Jordan had started dating when she was in high school. They’d been kids. She’d never got to explore like this. And exploration, she was realizing, promised to be all kinds of fun.

“Me too,” he promised throatily, running his fingers over the entrance to her body. He teased her, lightly touching her warm, throbbing womanhood, before sliding a single finger deep inside her.

“Oh, crap!” She bucked her hips forward and gripped his shoulders. He was powerless to do anything but watch as waves of sensual pleasure began to swirl through her. He brought his other hand to her clitoris and pressed against it. Her cheeks were flushed. She bit down on her lower lip to stop from screaming; he understood.

Something wild was happening to her. Something she hadn’t expected.

He dropped his lips to her breast; it was too much. Her self-control snapped.

It was the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt. It hit her like a tidal wave. She embraced it. She cried out. She shook. She shuddered. And her fingernails dug deep into his tanned, warm shoulders.

Sanity was somewhere on the fringes of what she was feeling but Saphire kept it at bay. What was the need for sanity when there was such wonder to behold?