And now she was back in Cannes, her body his once more, his body hers. Heat warmed her cheeks as she recalled the night before. He’d been waiting for her when she’d returned to the hotel. She hadn’t made it four steps into the room before he was dragging her to his body, stripping her clothes, lifting her against him and making love to her as though both their lives depended on it.
‘What time is it?’ Her words were groggy, infused with exhaustion from a night of passionate love-making.
No, not love-making—sex, she corrected internally.
‘Early. I’m going for a run.’
She frowned. He ran every morning, but he’d never woken her beforehand.
‘Do you have to?’ She rolled onto her side so she could see him better and caught a look of something like disapproval briefly cover his face.
‘I run every day.’
Her smile was teasing, her hand lifting to his shoulder. She pushed him onto his back in the same motion she straddled him, bringing her naked torso down over his chest so her nipples brushed his firm muscles, his hair, and she felt a thousand little blades of desire shoot through her. ‘Why don’t you not run today?’ She moved her sex over his hard arousal and his eyes flashed closed.
A rush of power filled her. She bit down on her lower lip as she reached past him to the nightstand where he kept a stash of condoms. Her fingers caught one and she ripped the foil square open with her teeth, her eyes hooked to his as she wriggled down his body. Eye level with his arousal, she risked another glance at him, only to find him watching her intently. Uncertainty shifted inside her but mostly there was still that rush of feminine power, and instincts that had been genetically programmed were now rushing to the fore.
When she shaped her lips over his tip, she felt his body clench, his breath drawn in one ragged intake. She ran her tongue down his length, feeling the pulsing of him, delighting in his obvious pleasure and the feel of him in her mouth.
Her exploration was slow, curious. She’d never done this before and she wanted to enjoy it. She took him in her mouth and listened to his breathing, his guttural moans. She felt when his hands lifted to her hair, tangling in its length, and when his body jerked she smiled and kept going, knowing that she was driving him wild and delighting in that.
But then his hands were tracing her arms and he took the condom from her fingertips, pushing her away as he rolled it over his length, and before she could respond he was pulling her higher, grabbing her hips and guiding her onto his length, holding her down on top of him so he filled her completely. Now it was Jemima’s turn to moan as he took over, shifting his body to thrust into her, deeper, hungrier, his hands on her hips firm, guiding her as he wanted her and as he knew she needed him.
And then his hands released her, leaving the tempo up to her, so she could lift her body on his length and satisfy her cravings as his hands ran over every inch of her, feeling her flesh, tormenting her, curving around behind her, exploring her buttocks before lifting to her breasts, cupping their soft roundness. His fingers tormented her nipples, as he obviously knew she adored, squeezing their sensitive tips until she was whimpering with the overpowering sense of pleasure that was tearing her apart.
It was beyond sublime. She arched her back and tilted her head, her eyes finding the ceiling as pleasure detonated through her, through every nerve ending.
‘This is...’ She had no words. But she was sure he must know, sure he must feel it, too—that he must feel like the world had stopped spinning just for them.
‘Great sex,’ he supplied as he tilted his hips and thrust into her harder, his hands dropping to her waist again, holding her on his length as he climaxed with a guttural roar.
Blood rushed through her veins. Her heart was on overdrive, her breath was burning and she was tingling all over. Great sex.
He was right. This was great sex. Just as he had often. With other women. Just as he’d go on having with other women when their time together was over.
It was a sobering thought, dragging her back to earth, so she lifted off him and collapsed onto her back, the reality of this unfolding through her mind.
He shifted and she waited for him to leave the room, to go for his run. So, when he brought his body over hers, their eyes level, it was a surprise she hadn’t braced for.
‘Don’t you have a run to do?’
‘It will keep,’ he said, kissing her then, slowly, exploring her mouth as though the kiss could tell him secrets, as though the kiss could fill him with understanding.
He trailed his lips over her body, in the valley between her breasts, lingering there so she held her breath, aching for him all over.
‘You were beautiful the other night.’
She couldn’t think. He shifted lower, his mouth on her stomach, his tongue circling her navel.
‘On the runway. Transfixing.’
‘Oh,’ she moaned, her nerve endings jangling.
‘But you already know you’re beautiful.’
His words were said with a smile but she felt something beneath them, something she didn’t understand. His tongue flicked against her sex and she bucked, her whole body responding to the intimacy of his kiss. His h
ands curved around her thighs, pushing her legs wider, and she moaned.