That was interesting – interesting enough to distract her. “Speaking from experience?”
His smile was tight. “Naturally. You don’t get to be my age without having some experience of heartbreak and dashed expectations.” He wiggled his thick, dark brows. “Which is why I’m volunteering myself as a willing shoulder to cry on.”
“Well, they are very nice shoulders,” she quipped, deliberately lightening the tone of their conversation.
He let the subject go, coming to stand behind her, wrapping one arm around her torso and using the other to gesture to the coastline. “Can you see the caves?”
She followed the direction of his hand, nodding, and he dropped his lips, buzzing them over her shoulder so her knees began to pulse. “They look so small from here.”
“Hard to believe they’re the entrance to such an elaborate network.”
“Yeah.”
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 promise 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.