CHAPTER EIGHT
MORNING LIGHT WAS bathing them. Tara could feel it warm upon her back, which was partly covered by a single sheet. Her arm was flung across the bare torso of the man beside her, still asleep.
She herself was still drowsy and somnolent from the night that had passed. A night like no other she had ever known.
Memory drenched through her and she hugged her naked body more closely against the one she was entwined with. Had she ever imagined a night like that was possible?
Time and time again he had possessed her—each time a consummation of bliss that had caused her to cry out over and over again as her body had burned with his, in a heat that had been a consuming fire, bathing their straining muscles and sated flesh, her spine arched like a bowstring, his body plunging into hers, her hands clutching at the twisting contours of his shoulders, her head thrashing on the pillow as they reached their peaks together.
And then peace had blanketed down upon her, upon them both—an exhaustion, a sweeping sigh of exhalation as their bodies had closed upon each other, no space between them, pressed to each other in heated fastness, hers turned into his, folded against him, her limbs heavy, his yet heavier. And then, dazed and dazzled, she had sought the rest that had come—instant and obliterating.
Only for him to rouse her yet again...and for her to wake in an instant, to overpowering desire again...
Memories indeed...
She felt her mouth smile against his throat, her eyelids flutter, felt him stir in answer, his hand easing across her flank with soft caress.
For a while they simply lay there, letting the sun from the windows warm their entwined bodies, dozing and then waking slowly to full awareness of the day. Saying nothing, for there was no need.
Not until Marc, with a stretching of his limbs, turned his head to smile across at her. ‘Breakfast? Or—?’
She laid a finger across his mouth. ‘Breakfast!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘One night with you lasts a long, long time...’
He gave a laugh, pleased with her answer. Pleased with the entire universe. He had known women before—many women. But this one...
His mind sheered away. It wasn’t necessary to think, to examine or analyse. It was only necessary to enjoy this gloriously sunny morning, here in the place he loved where he never seemed to have enough time to spend. It was only necessary to get himself up from his bed, reach for a grey silk robe and knot it around his waist.
His muscles felt stretched, fully used...
He reached a hand down to her. ‘If you want breakfast,’ he said, and there was a husk in his voice with which Tara had become very familiar with in the long, sensual reaches of the night, ‘you had better use your own shower.’
He nodded towards the communicating door, then headed for his own en suite bathroom. At the door to it he turned. She was starting to stand up, and the sight of her fabulous racehorse body, full in the sunlight now, almost made him change his mind and carry her through to his own shower, where washing was not going to be a priority...
But his stomach gave a low grumble. He had expended a great deal of energy last night and it needed to be replenished.
So he said only, ‘See you downstairs. And think about what you would like to do today—because if you can’t come up with anything I have a very enticing idea of my own...’
He let his voice trail off and raised a hand in half-salute, leaving her to her own rising.
When they regrouped, out on the terrace, he threw himself into a chair. He was wearing shorts, and a striped top.
Tara, settling herself down opposite him, gave a laugh. ‘You look like a matelot!’ She smiled.
Marc’s eyes glinted. ‘The very thing,’ he said. He sat back. ‘It’s a beautiful day and the wind is just right—let’s take to the water.’
She laughed. ‘Is that your enticing idea?’ she returned. ‘I was assuming something far more...physical...’ she said wickedly.
‘Depends where we drop anchor,’ Marc returned, his expression deadpan.
She laughed again. She could have laughed at anything this morning—this glorious, glorious morning. The morning after the night before...and the night before had been like no other night had ever been...
Could ever be...
For just a moment she felt a dart pierce her. Would anything in all her life ever compare to the night she’d spent in the arms of this man she had so rashly committed herself to? A man she knew she should never have given herself to but had simply not been able to resist?
What if nothing could?
She pushed the question aside. This was not a morning for questions—for doubts of any kind. She was having this time with Marc, and if he was a million miles from her own normality—well, so be it. Too late for regrets now, even if she wanted to have them—which, right now, she did not.