Why?
The word hung in the air as her gaze tracked to the scars that peppered his forearms. Emotion tugged at her abdomen, combining with the heat as the cries that had wrenched her from sleep the night before, those broken shouts ragged with agony, echoed in her head.
But she forced her gaze back to his face—and saw the challenge in his expression. He was daring her to ask, so he could have an excuse to leave her wanting.
She swallowed down the yearning to know more about him.
Not your business.
“I’m not great with emotional attachments either,” she said, wishing it were true. “Just ask my sister—or Dario.”
He huffed out a laugh, breaking the tension between them. “Fair point.”
Stepping toward her, he lifted his hand. Slowly, carefully he cupped her cheek, the way he had the night before, as if he were giving her the chance to pull back. But this time the flight reflex refused to come. The chilled skin of his palm felt rough against her skin. He stroked his thumb over her lips. And her breath gushed out on a tortured sob, the coil in her belly yanking tight as the fire in his eyes flared.
“You’re so damned exquisite.” The gruff statement sounded as if it had been wrenched from him—and was all the more devastating because of it.
No man had ever looked at her the way he did. As if he wanted to punish her and worship her at one and the same time. That bold, unapologetic gaze, so full of longing, had a heady effect.
She had always needed to fight for every scrap of affection, had needed to shout to be seen, but with Jared it had always been different. He made her feel fully visible, fully present, fully alive—without her having to do anything at all. Except be.
Capturing her other cheek, he framed her face, then covered her lips with his. His tongue demanded entry, the kiss hard, punishing, hungry.
She opened for him instantly, her hands grasping his waist, the damp skin smooth and hard. She sucked on his invading tongue, letting the excitement sizzle through her body. He angled her head to delve deeper, to take more, his fingers driving into her hair, dislodging the band that held it back from her face.
The kiss was all she remembered from the night before and from all those years ago, and more, not coaxing this time or fleeting, but savage and demanding.
One large hand covered her breast. The nipple pinched into a tight point beneath cotton and lace.
He reared back, his face dark with desire as he stared down at her. “Are you sure? Tell me now, damn it,” he demanded. “Because once I get you naked I’m not going to stop.”
She nodded, every inch of her skin alive with sensation. “Yes. I’m sure.”
He grunted then, bending, lifted her into his arms. She gasped, circling her hands around his neck, her stomach swooping into her throat as he strolled across the gardens, up the steps and then marched across the terrace.
Nudging open his bedroom door, he dropped her onto her bare feet. The room was larger than hers, the bed less fanciful, and unlike her own room everything was in perfect order, so pristine it was as if no one stayed here.
“Turn around,” he said.
She did as she was told, and heard the sibilant rasp of the zipper as he yanked it down. Then the click as her bra released.
He hooked his fingers beneath the straps and she found herself naked to the waist, the cotton dress slipping over her hips and her bra sliding down her arms. His callused palms covered her naked breasts.
She sunk against him, her knees buckling as he plucked at her nipples, the fire arrowing down. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her lower back through the damp swimming trunks as his lips settled on her collarbone and he sucked the pulse in her neck.
Her ragged breathing sounded harsh in the quiet room. He turned her to face him and she crossed her hands over her breasts, a wave of insecurity assailing her.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice gruff as he took her wrists in his hands and tugged her arms away from her body. “Don’t hide from me.”
The sun was sinking beneath the cliff top, sending shards of light and shadow through the room, but she felt far too exposed. All the excitement of moments ago faded as he studied her. No man had ever seen her naked before. As a model, she’d refused to go topless. She’d avoided looking at herself in magazines, or on billboards, her boyish figure perfect as a designer clothes horse, but less so as a woman.
He tucked a knuckle under her chin, forcing her to look at him.
His jaw was hard as granite, the hunger still vivid on his face. “Are you shy?”
She shook her head. “No, I just...” Her excuses stalled.
The excruciating tension stretched tight, her breasts still throbbing from his attention. The nipples distended under his gaze.