“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.
“Putney.”
He laughed, the quip dipping into the sensual spell that had wound around them. “Of course. A south Londoner.”
“Through and through,” she grinned, sliding her hands into the elastic of his shorts, cupping his rear, so she saw his expression shift, a sharp burst of need filling his face.
“I have a friend who lives in Putney. Maybe I should look you up next time I’m there.”
Both froze. The words were completely unexpected. It wasn’t what they’d agreed to, but more than that, he was referring to Michael. Of cour
se he was – who else? Perhaps he knew someone else who lived in the small borough of London, but wasn’t that against the odds? Her stomach looped, and she pulled away from him jerkily, moving towards the bed and bracing her hand on the edge of it.
“I was joking.” His voice was cool, his tone impossible to comprehend. “That’s not what either of us wants.”
She understood. He was worried because it sounded as though he was offering more than a brief summer fling and he’d made it clear that wasn’t on the cards. But she couldn’t feel anything except panic. It flooded her from top to toe. He was still in contact with Michael? ‘Maybe I should look you up next time I’m there’ didn’t sound as though they rarely saw one another. She expelled a shaky breath, but it didn’t help. Guilt was perforating her soul.
Sleeping with Nico when she believed him to be someone Michael had once known was one thing. But if they were still in contact? Friends? The whole time she’d been with Michael, he’d only mentioned Nico that one time. They’d certainly never seen each other – not that she’d known of, anyway.
But it was a stark reminder that she was playing with fire, only it wasn’t just her who stood to get burned. She hated Michael – amazing that what had started with the possibility of love had morphed into deep, wretched hatred – but she liked Nico, and for his sake, she didn’t particularly want to become a wedge in their friendship. Not when she and Nico had both agreed this meant nothing.
Michael was vindictive and angry, jealous and possessive. If he found out about this…a frisson of fear ran down her spine. If he found out about this, he’d be enraged. With her, and Nico.
She lifted a hand to her head, pressing her fingertips to her temples, danger everywhere. She was back in that apartment near the hook of the Thames, Michael’s hands at her throat, fear so pervasive, so real, she felt nausea rise inside her.
“Maddie?” Nico crossed the room to her, putting his hands on her arms, holding her steady. “Relax. You look like you’re on the brink of a full-blown panic attack. I’m not asking you for more than this summer. It was a stupid joke. And not even a funny one.”
“I know,” she forced a smile to her lips. “Sorry. It’s just…”
“I know.” He moved one hand to her chin, lifting her face towards his. “The breakup.”
“Right.” She bit down on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that. It’s just…”
“We can’t help our reactions,” his smile held a question.
“I’m fine,” she promised. “Let’s go swimming.”
She moved like a mermaid. Or a dolphin. Or a water-bound ballerina. Her grace was effortless. He could watch her all day, but watching was a trade off with touching, because from the proper distance to observe her every move he couldn’t reach out and feel her smooth, soft flesh beneath his palm. And he liked feeling her. He loved the way she responded to him, too. Nico had been with enough women to know when chemistry was unique and theirs was. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, if he was honest.
Was that why he’d made the damned Putney comment?
It had been such a stupid thing to say but yes, looking back, he’d probably been sounding her out about the possibility of something in the future. Not a relationship. Just a bit more of this, from time to time. He was friends with many of his ex lovers – there was nothing unusual in seeing if he could become friends with Maddie in a way that transcended this summer.
But her reaction had been emphatic. She’d been terrified.
The comment had been absurd, anyway. He hadn’t seen Michael Walsh in a couple of years and that experience had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Despite their years of friendship, something about the way Michael had spoken had left Nico with a sense of concern. It wasn’t just the fact Michael had been asking to borrow a considerable sum of money, it was that he seemed desperate to have it, as though his life depended on it. Nico had helped, because their friendship went back a long way, but caution now bounded that relationship. So it wasn’t like he was just going to skip into Putney for a weekend to hang out with the man. Although, if he thought seeing Maddie was in the offing…
But it wasn’t.