Page 61 of Italy and Forever

His hands were on the door on either side of her head, his body angled wickedly, perfectly into hers, but as the sparks of need flickered, reason intruded and she stilled.

‘I, uh… I didn’t get condoms. It’s a long story.’

He drew back far enough to study her and she kind of wished he wouldn’t. He would see her for who she truly was and she couldn’t allow that.

Untroubled, he said, ‘I did. I love that you wanted to, but I wouldn’t leave it only up to you.’

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, before opening again – for protection. ‘You know that’s a massive green flag.’

‘I also just really wanted to do this again and I didn’t want anything to stop us.’

‘That also works.’ She slid her hand around the back of his neck.

Then he asked the unforgivable. ‘Is everything okay?’

She sighed, her hands skimming down his arms. He captured them when they reached his hands and she stared at the mess of tangled fingers. ‘Not really,’ she admitted.

‘You don’t have to stay. You didn’t have to come.’

‘Apparently, I did,’ she mumbled. ‘Can we… just keep going?’ Freeing one hand, she slid her palm up his chest, studying every flinch of muscle, the bob of his throat. ‘I think I need this right now.’

He nodded, his hand sneaking up her back, under her shirt. The contact on her skin was everything and nowhere near enough.

‘Don’t hold back,’ she murmured. ‘I really need…’ you.

‘All right,’ he replied solemnly, the words burrowing under her skin.

26

There was something fragile in the set of her shoulders, the position of her chin. But her fingers were greedy and there was no way Rhys would deny her anything right now, especially not when everywhere he touched her made her gasp and shudder. Even as the contact of his skin on hers seemed to break something in her, she kept demanding more, giving more.

It took a long time to actually reach the bed. He found countless places on her body he wanted to explore and commit to memory: the base of her throat; the knot of bone on the end of her shoulder; her hairline at the back of her neck. There was a little dimple on her lower back that he returned to over and over with his gaze, his fingers and even his lips. He couldn’t tell whether that spot fascinated him because of the shape and the shadow, or because every time he touched her there she sucked in a hitched breath.

Then she surprised him with her eagerness to touch in return, making her own discoveries about him. Being the subject of her desires lit a fire in him that burned uncomfortably, even as it fed the pathological need for her that was growing out of proportion. So, he let her touch and kiss and have her way with him, even as he worried she was taking ownership of essential parts of him and could leave him as a worn-out husk when she was done.

It wouldn’t be such a step down from where he’d been before.

He took her at her word and let her see how much he desired her in return. ‘Is this okay?’ he had to ask, as he curled his body around hers on the edge of the bed.

Her answer was a whispered, ‘Yes,’ as she climbed up onto the mattress. ‘Yes,’ she repeated on a soft, beautiful moan, her back bowed as he took the most intimate privilege of her body.

He would never remember her face, but he doubted he would forget the details of her like this, bearing up under the force of desire, this raw need that perhaps neither of them should have admitted, if they wanted to keep things light.

There was nothing light about the way he felt when the sensations sank their claws into him and his instincts took over. With no small amount of relief, he felt her shudder, the gratifying signals of her body reaching that high point a bare second before his vision blurred and he got there too.

He pressed a kiss to the centre of her back, then another. The soft hotel room lighting wasn’t enough to appreciate the shine on her skin. He needed a reflector or two – anything too harsh would lose the gentle contrast of shadows. He’d use the Nikon, not his new Sony. She was an epic landscape photograph, not a portrait.

She stretched and shivered and he froze, belatedly realising he should have got off her several seconds ago. As he eased up, she flinched and the action sent something like panic through him. Quickly tossing the condom, he returned to find her sluggishly rolling over, her hair mussed and her skin blotched with subtle red marks.

‘Pull yourself together, Rhys,’ she said weakly. ‘You look like you broke your favourite toy.’

He kind of felt that way.

But then she put him out of his misery – as she had a habit of doing – in a croaky, overused voice. ‘I’m not broken. I feel… better.’ That was something at least.

‘Do you want some water?’ It wasn’t one of the many questions spinning in his head, but it was what came out.

‘Sure,’ she answered.