His fingertips traced her shoulder and the buzzing in her knees spread through her whole body.
“How’s your book going?”
The question surprised her. Michael never asked about her work. Then again, she had to stop comparing the two. They were apples and oranges, despite the fact they had been close at school.
“Slowly.” She spun in the circle of his arms, bringing them toe-to-toe. Desire flashed through her central nervous system. “Apparently, I’m a bit distracted.”
He laughed. “Now, that’s not fair. I haven’t seen you for days.” He pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose.
“Maybe your absence was more distracting than your presence would have been?”
He laughed, a husky sound that curled around her. “Forse.” His eyes held hers as his fingers moved to the straps of her dress, pushing them down a little. Her skin lifted with goose bumps, despite the warmth of the day.
“How would you feel about a swim?”
She looked over her shoulder. The water was so clear she could see fish swimming beneath them. “I didn’t bring any bathers.”
“I did.”
“Did you now?”
“Preparation is my middle name.” He let one of the straps of her dress drop completely so the fabric slipped down on her breast. His voice was gravelled. “I enjoyed choosing something out for you.”
“Wear the orange one. The black makes you look like you have the arse of an eighty four year old.” She shuddered, pushing the memories of Michael firmly aside, smiling brightly.
This was a thoughtful gesture. Nico had foreseen an opportunity for them to swim and he’d catered to her needs when she’d been too pent up about seeing him to think clearly.
“Where are they? I’ll go get changed.”
He shook his head slowly. “Not without me, you won’t.” And then he swooped down and lifted her up, cradling her against his chest so she laughed at the unexpectedness of it all, and Michael was just a balloon, far, far away, high in the sky, floating further and further away with every warm moment she shared with Nico.
The yacht was, naturally, the next word in luxury. Enormous but somehow sleek at the same time. With crisp white detailing, she’d gleaned that it boasted seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a kitchen a gourmet chef would admire and several lounge and entertaining spaces. He shouldered the door of one bedroom open. A king size bed was at the centre. He eased her to her feet, and when his eyes met hers, it was like being sparked with a thousand volts of electricity.
“First, we need to get you undressed,” he said, mock-seriously.
“Absolutely.”
His hands moved to the bottom of her dress now, his eyes on hers as he lifted it up her body, his fingertips grazing her soft flesh as he went. She lifted her arms overhead and as he passed the dress above her hair he kissed her, as though he couldn’t help it, as though his mouth was somehow magnetically drawn to hers.
She hadn’t worn a bra and he made short work of her underpants, sliding them down her legs without breaking their kiss; she stepped out of them to complete the removal. His tongue plundered her mouth and his hands moved between her legs, spreading them wider so he could brush his fingertip over her sex, teasing her with the pro
mise of what was to come.
Her pulse was bursting through her body way too fast, so fast surely her veins would collapse under the tsunami of blood. But she tilted her head back and begged him not to stop because she couldn’t bear it if he did. He moved his finger over her most sensitive cluster of nerves until she was flying high in the skies and then he dropped to his knees, pulling his hand away only so his mouth could take its place, his tongue worshipping her most private flesh, his mouth heaven-sent.
She ran her fingers through his hair and stood in the middle of the bedroom, trying not to faint from pleasure, trying not to cry because it was so exactly what she needed to feel that there was something wrenching about it, too.
“You’re so good at this,” the words were strangled from her.
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was driving her over the edge and she tilted there willingly, crying his name into the room with shattering urgency as her body seemed to break apart at the seams until there was nothing left.
She kept her fingers in his hair, almost essential for balance, as her breathing slowed and then she released her grip so he looked up at her, his smile showing that he knew exactly what he could do to her and loving it.
But she didn’t care. This wasn’t a competition of egos. His ability to pleasure her – no, his desire to pleasure her – was a gift, and she wasn’t going to miss a single opportunity to feel like this during the time they had together. She knew it wasn’t ‘real life’. That was waiting for her back in England, one day. This was a slice out of time, a little bubble of unreality, and she was going to enjoy it.
He stood, the proof of his own arousal evident through the cotton fabric of his board shorts, so she reached for him, drawing his body close to hers, pressing his cock to her stomach and shifting her hips in a silent invitation.
“Where did you come from?” He murmured, lifting his hands and cupping her face, his eyes boring down into hers.