His head feel back as he cupped both of her breasts in his hands. She saw the snarl that shaped his mouth as he watched himself touch her, his fingers plucking at the sensitive flesh, urging it to grow harder and stiffer until she wiggled her hips against him to get relief on her sex and called his name.
He glanced up at her briefly, the hard glitter in his eyes stealing her breath, and then he was sucking her other breast, drawing on her until she cried out sharply as desire stabbed at her from clit to her deepest core.
He rolled her onto her back and came on top of her.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he grated out ominously. “I’m going to fuck you hard for making me feel so much.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open but she couldn’t inhale. Her lungs had stopped working. It was like being pressed against the outer limits of an inferno that stole all the oxygen in the vicinity.
“Vanni! Van!” someone yelled.
He started to reach for her bikini bottoms as if the voice hadn’t penetrated his furious lust.
“Vanni,” she said shakily, her eyes burning with emotion. “Someone is calling you. I think it?
?s Mrs. Denis.”
“Vanni,” Mrs. Denis called again from on top of the cliff, her voice drifting and eddying in the sea breeze. A muscle jumped in Vanni’s clenched jaw as he scored Emma with his stare. He turned slightly, still shielding her naked breasts, and waved. Emma strained to see over his shoulder. At the top of the cliff, she saw Mrs. Denis standing there, her white apron showing up starkly against a dark blue dress.
“I’m coming,” Vanni bellowed.
Mrs. Denis waved once more and turned back toward La Mer.
“We’d better go,” he said after a tense moment. “She wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.”
Emma nodded, still finding it difficult to catch her breath.
He reached for her discarded top and handed it to her. He waited until she’d replaced it and then jogged and leapt, making a perfect dive off the dock, knifing through the sea. Emma followed him. Despite his obvious disquietude, he waited for her to surface before they swam back together toward shore. The cold water was a slap to her hypersensitive nerves and dazed arousal, forcing her into alertness . . . forcing her to consider what had just happened.
When they climbed on to the shore together, however, and Vanni made a point of avoiding her gaze, her uncertainty mounted.
* * *
She knew deep down she was right to have spoken about Cristina’s dying words, but that didn’t make her regret Vanni’s emotional turmoil in regard to them any less. Not that he was behaving tumultuously at the moment, she acknowledged later as she watched him in the distance, talking to a racing official as he paced on the terrace. During the walk back up to La Mer, his typical controlled façade had seemingly rebuilt itself. He’d calmly listened to Mrs. Denis’s news that a driver had crashed during the early morning practice session, and then immediately dived into action making phone calls.
“Don’t look so worried,” Mrs. Denis said soothingly as she opened a covered dish, revealing eggs and bacon. The housekeeper had had breakfast ready for them on the terrace when they returned, but Vanni had told Emma to go ahead and eat while he attended to some phone calls. “The race official who called said that the driver wasn’t hurt. His car was all right, too, but the course was damaged.”
“Will it be ready for tomorrow?”
“If Vanni has his say about it,” Mrs. Denis said with a smile before she poured some tea for Emma. “And he does, so that means the race will go on.”
When she’d finished a light breakfast, Vanni was still on the phone, so she went upstairs to shower. She was sitting on a stool and applying some lotion to her legs, when a brisk rap sounded on the door. Vanni stepped into the room, looking both casual and chic in a pair of dark blue shorts and a white short-sleeved shirt with a single dark blue stripe across his powerful chest. His somber expression made her freeze.
“Is the damage to the course bad?” she asked.
“It isn’t good,” he admitted. “But it’ll be fixed in time. There are crews there now working on it. We’ll stop by and inspect it on the way back from Niki’s. Are you almost ready to go?” he asked, checking his sports watch.
“Yes. I just need to dress.” His gaze flicked down over her when she stood. She wasn’t wearing anything but a towel. His mouth hardened slightly and he started to leave the bathroom. “Vanni?” she called out abruptly. “Is everything . . . okay? Are you all right?”
He nodded once, unsmilingly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Then she was staring at the back of the door.
Chapter Thirty-three
During the drive to Nice in a convertible Montand sports car, Vanni pointed out highlights of the area and gave her a general idea of points on the racing circuit. Still, Emma recognized as they left the car in a lot at a private boating club and walked toward the sea, the things she’d said about Cristina out on the dock that morning continued to simmer inside him. No one could fault his manners, but she felt his withdrawal. She wanted to apologize for upsetting him, but didn’t quite know how, given his reserve. Besides, she wasn’t sorry she’d spoken up. It’d needed to be said. She was just regretful of his reaction and worried about him.
Niki had a small motorboat waiting for them at a dock at the club. Already there were Simon and Estelle Fournier, whom she’d met last night at dinner, in addition to three other people. One was an attractive American racer named Joe Hill that she’d met briefly last night at the Hôtel Le Maj. The other two were a couple—a stunning dark-haired woman named Vitoria Franco and her husband—also a racecar driver—Miguel. The couple was from Brazil, and seemed friendly enough, although Emma could have done without Vitoria’s sharp, assessing glance and tiny, knowing smile when she shook Vanni’s hand. Vitoria had been sunbathing on the dock while they waited for Emma and Vanni’s arrival and had greeted them with sublime nonchalance even though the bikini she wore was so tiny, she might as well have been naked. Fortunately, the reserve and preoccupation Vanni had displayed all morning was not just for Emma. He was cool but polite in both the voluptuous Vitoria’s greeting as well as Estelle’s warm kisses and lingering hand on his arm as she queried him about the crash that morning.