And that was what it was. As simple as the moonlight silvering the lake, the sweet night air, the call of owls in the forest, the quietness all around them.
So very simple.
He said nothing, and nor did she. There was no need to. And that, too, was very simple.
As simple as going indoors.
His hand still holding hers.
The mezzanine bed took them into its close confines and they took each other into an embrace. He laid her down upon it, and she was pliant in the soft lowering of her willing body. The light was very dim up here, but she did not need light to know him—to find him with her hands lifted to his chest, pressed against its muscled wall as he leaned over her. His body was warm and firm, and she could feel the contours of his ribs through the material of his shirt.
Her fingers found the buttons, slipped them one by one. He let her do it, smiling down at her, his hands planted either side of her head as, little by little, she revealed his body to her, slowly, carefully, sliding the shirt from his shoulders.
He shrugged it off, discarding it. ‘Now my turn,’ he said. He was smiling, his eyes holding hers, his gaze intimate and warm.
He eased her tee shirt from her, lifting it at her waist to slide it upward. She wore no bra—not here in the forest—and as the high, small mounds of her breasts were exposed she heard him catch his breath.
‘Por Dio, but you are so beautiful!’ It was a sigh. An exhalation. A homage.
She felt his head lower—felt, with a rush of sweet pleasure, his mouth close over one breast. Felt it flower beneath his ministrations, its sensitivity increased a hundredfold, a thousandfold. She arched her neck in pleasure, offering herself to him, first one breast and then the other.
Then he was pulling away from her. She gave a cry of protest, but all he was doing was rapidly and purposefully shedding the rest of his clothes.
And hers.
And then he was coming down over her, and the weight of his body was on hers, his mouth seeking hers, finding it as her mouth opened to his, velvet upon velvet.
Her hands reached around the strong column of his back, glorying in its sculpted contours as his kiss deepened. She gave a sudden gasp of realisation. And glorying in the strength of his arousal, pressing against her.
Excitement quickened within her, an answering arousal, and heat beating up from the core of her body, flushing through her. She gave a low moan and then his mouth was leaving hers, sliding down the shallow valley between her ripened breasts, down over the sleek smoothness below...and further yet.
She gave a soft cry, eyes widening, as his hands lowered to her waist. His own body was arching now, to give him access to what he wanted...
Her thighs slackened. It was impossible to resist, because resisting—oh, dear God—was the very last thing she wanted to do. It was impossible not to want what he was doing now...not to want the incredible, delicate, tantalising, exquisitely arousing sensations he was drawing from her. They mounted and mounted and mounted. She felt the heat within her rise. The pleasure he was giving her was so intense, so incredible, that surely it was impossible that it should exist at all.
She felt her body melt, her head roll back, low moans breaking from her throat. She said his name—an invocation...a plea. And at his name he lifted away, his hands sliding around her hips, tilting them upwards, opening her to him...
To his possession.
His complete possession.
She gave a gasp, a cry, her hands folding over his shoulders as his mouth found hers again, tasting and melding and fusing...even as his body melded and fused with hers.
He moved within her and she was folding around him, possessing him even as he was possessing her, and her body was melting...melting...
And then—as his slow, expert, ever-deepening thrusts within her aroused silken tissues brought her closer and closer still to what she ached for, to what she craved, what she sought with all her throbbing being—like molten metal her body became one single, all-consuming white-hot fusion with his.
She was drawing him deeper, closer, feeling her throbbing tissues convulse around him as wave after wave of a pleasure she had never known existed, never known could exist overwhelmed her. And she was crying out, her fingers clutching at him, clinging to him, clinging to his body now surging within her. And now it was him crying out, head bowed, low and urgent and guttural, as his moment came, matching hers as they were both fused in absolute union.
Her sated body gave one last long convulsion around him and then she was drawing his body down to hers, cradling it in her embracing arms, holding him within her, her heart hammering against his. Exhaustion swept over her, but her body was glowing in the flame, heat still in her tissues, ripples of pleasure still going through her. She did not want to let him go...did not want to lose him...could not bear to do so.
She wrapped her arms more tightly around him and he held her close against him, limbs meshed, their heartbeats gradually slowing. He was murmuring to her...soft words, sweet words...in his native language, his mouth gently kissing the column of her throat, holding her close in his arms. So very close.
It was the only place in all the world she wanted to be.
It was, she knew with absolute certainty as they held each other, as simple as that.
Salvatore turned to smile at Lana, his fishing line now cast, as the little boat bobbed gently on the lake water. She was lolling back, legs outstretched, one bare foot resting on his thigh with intimate, easy relaxation. She smiled when he smiled at her. An intimate, easy smile.