ither.’
His blood felt like air in his veins as she leaned forward and flicked her tongue over his lips—and then, threading his hand through her hair, his mouth seeking hers, he kissed her fiercely.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE SOUND OF the water was rushing in time with her breath.
Inching backwards, she stared up at him dazedly. Her head was swimming, and nothing seemed to matter except his taut profile and the urgent, hungry beat of her heart.
‘Your jacket...’ she whispered. ‘It’s getting wet.’
‘So is your dress.’ His voice was hoarse.
Her throat was dry. ‘Then help me take it off.’
They reached out for one another, his hand locking in her hair as she grabbed at his shirt, their mouths colliding as they kissed hungrily, tongues probing, lips bruising.
He groaned into her mouth and they broke apart, panting.
‘I’ve been thinking about this for weeks.’ His eyes, fiercely green, burned into hers.
‘So have I,’ she whispered.
His face was taut and she could see the muscles in his arms tensing, as though he was having to hold himself in check. She felt a rush of blood, hot and sudden, at the hunger in his gaze.
‘So what are you waiting for?’
His eyes were trained on her face. ‘The baby. Is it okay to—? I don’t want to hurt you.’
She slid off her sandals, reached out and touched his chest. ‘You won’t.’
Her head was spinning, her pulse racing. She felt as though she was melting. She wanted him so badly—wanted him as she had never wanted anything or anyone...ever. And this wasn’t about some fantasy. This was real. And it was what they both wanted. That was all that mattered.
Reaching up, she slid her hands beneath his shirt, shaking with the freedom of being able to touch him and the relief that she didn’t have to stop—that he didn’t want her to stop. She clutched at his shoulders, pushing her tongue into his warm mouth as they moved as one, stepping into the shallow water, circling through shafts of raindrops, bodies pressing together in time to the beating of their hearts.
She touched his collar, fumbled impatiently with his tie, her fingers plucking at the knot, jerking it loose, then tugging at the buttons of his shirt.
As her hands touched his warm, bare skin her breath stalled for a moment and she stepped back on legs that shook unsteadily. He was gorgeous, more gorgeous than any man should be allowed to be, and whatever her memory had conjured up the reality outdid any fantasy. He was crazily, stupidly beautiful—all lean, defined muscles and olive skin that was smooth aside from the line of fine dark hair that ran down the centre of his abs, thickening as it disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.
Heart pounding, she slid her hands lightly over his chest and, standing on tiptoe, kissed him again gently, delicately, tasting him as she would one of his rums.
He grunted, tugged off his shirt and dropped it, and then, reaching out, he looped his fingers under the thin straps of her dress and slid them over her shoulders, peeling the damp fabric from her overheated skin. She felt it slide over her body and pool at her feet. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and above the soft rush of the water she heard him swallow, saw his control snap, sensed the tension in his arms loosen like a spring uncoiling.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said hoarsely, ‘so beautiful.’
He breathed out raggedly and for a moment he just stared at her, his eyes dark and sightless. Her nipples hardened beneath his gaze—and then she sucked in a breath as he reached out and began to stroke them with the palm of his hand.
It was too much. They were too sensitive to touch.
She grabbed his fingers. ‘Not there,’ she whispered. ‘Here.’ She pulled his hand lower, pressing it against the ache between her thighs.
He shifted against her, his leg moving between hers, and she felt the hard length of him pushing against her. Only it was not enough. Her hands trembled. She wanted all of him. She wanted—needed—everything he had to give.
Her hands moved to his waist, and then to where the force of his desire pressed against his trousers, her pulse jerking as she began tugging at his belt, working the leather through the buckle.
As he breathed out unsteadily her nerves were forgotten and she felt a rush of excitement. His green eyes were fierce and filled with hunger, and she knew that he was fighting for control.
Knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him made her feel powerful in a way she had never felt before, and suddenly she wanted to test that power. Holding his gaze, she reached out and rested her hand against the thickness of his arousal.