Using his hands to guide her, he brought her body forward a little, so she could feel the strength of his rock-hard arousal, the desire that was there for her, and she whimpered low in her throat. Memories of how he’d felt, moving inside her, made her crazy with longing.
‘I am the only man who’s ever made love to you. Yes?’
Her cheeks flushed and she shuttered her eyes, unable to meet the scrutiny of his gaze.
‘Tell me,’ he demanded, kissing her neck so her breath came fast and hard inside her. ‘That your only experience of sex is with me.’
A strangled noise escaped her throat. ‘Why does it matter?’
‘Because if this is so, then you have so much to learn,’ he said.
One of his hands moved from her rear, coming over her leg and buzzing the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, before nudging the flimsy material of her costume aside. She held her breath, her mind no longer able to concentrate on what he’d been saying. He watched her intently as his fingers brushed over her womanhood, his eyes holding hers as he slid a finger into her moist, tight core.
‘You have so much to learn about your body and its pleasures, and I want to teach you that.’ He swirled his finger around and she arched her back, her eyes fixing on the sunset overhead, on the colours that were only enhanced by the sheer perfection of his touch. ‘I want you.’ His mouth dropped to the flesh at the base of her throat and he kissed her, slow and long, and she moaned again, wrapping her legs around his waist and surrendering to the bliss of this moment, surrendering to an inevitability she’d been fighting since he’d walked into her gallery and her body had started to feel fully alive for the first time in three years.
‘I know you want to fight me—’ he rolled his hips and she moaned, his words stoking her like flames in a fire ‘—but can you not see how good our marriage can be? Neither of us wanted this, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be everything we want now, Frankie.’ Her name on his lips was a seduction, his promise a temptation that was almost impossible to resist. Because he was right. He was so right.
Frankie didn’t believe in casual sex, but this wasn’t casual. This wasn’t even just sex. There was so much more between them; there always had been. At least, for Frankie. He wasn’t just some man she’d rushed into bed with. She’d met him and on some level had tripped headlong into love. She’d given all of herself to Matthias that night, not just her virginity. Not just her body.
And he’d walked away with such ease.
Oh, he’d had to—duty had called him. But he’d stayed away and her heart had been breaking.
Could she really lose herself to him again? Could she really be so stupid?
‘Tell me you want me,’ he said, and he stood out of the pool, removing his hand from her only so he could reach down and lift her, carrying her against his chest as though she weighed nothing.
‘I...can’t,’ she whispered as her hands reached up and tangled in the hair at his nape, as her body stayed wet and cleaved to his. He carried her to a pool lounger, laying her down and disposing of her bikini bottoms swiftly, staring at her naked sex with eyes that were so hungry they robbed her of breath.
‘You can’t admit to this?’ He arched, kneeling on the ground at the foot of the lounger, parting her thighs with strong, broad hands. His mouth on her was a sensual, terrifying possession and she cried out as pleasure, sharp and visceral, broke through her.
He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. His actions made a mockery of her determination not to want him. His tongue ran over her, tasting her sweetness, and his fingers held her legs wide; she was all his. All of her.
She cried out as he moved faster, and then slid a finger deep into her core, tormenting her sensitive nerve-endings with his possession and absolute mastery of her body.
She was so close to breaking point, pleasure within ar
m’s reach, and he lifted his head, his eyes staring at her, his expression impossible to decipher. ‘Beg me,’ he said simply.
Heat coloured Frankie’s mind, cheeks and thoughts.
‘Beg me,’ he said again, dropping his mouth and lashing her with his tongue once more, his touch like heaven.
‘I can’t,’ she cried, but then his name was dropping from her lips again and again and again, rent with desperate need. She called him Matthias, because here, in this kingdom, beneath the skies of Tolmirós, he was Matthias. Not Matt, who she’d fallen in love with—she could see that now, looking back through time, and knowing who she’d been then.
At twenty-one, she’d met Matt and fallen in love. But she’d been a girl who believed in fantasies then, who thought sex and love went hand in hand. And now she saw that sex on its own could be enough.
‘Beg for me and I will make you come,’ he promised, lifting up and taking one of her breasts into his mouth, while his finger stayed inside her, tormenting her with memories and promises.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, digging her nails into his shoulders as thought became impossible, as pleasure crashed over her. Surrender, her body begged, her heart implored. Surrender and accept that this is enough!
Of course it was—for some people.
But not for Frankie.
Her body was on fire, her pulse racing, her heart thumping, and she knew that satisfaction was within reach. All she had to do was beg him, to say the word please that she was swallowing inside her throat, and he would drive her over the edge; he would make her feel almost whole.
Almost.