“Yes, you are,” he grated out. “And because of it, you’ll get another stroke.”

She watched him as he cracked off the last two. The image of him was so powerful, she barely noticed the sting of her ass. He held her stare as he leaned the paddle against the bench near her hand.

“You can lower your ass to the bench again.” The last glimpse she had of him, he was walking behind her, cupping his erection from below. A thrill of anticipation went through her when she sensed him lower behind her and he put his hands on her burning ass. “Brace yourself,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard.”

She bit her lip, waiting . . . burning. He didn’t make her wait long. The hard crown of his cock parted her channel. He tightened his hold on her bottom and thrust. She dropped her forehead to the bench and screamed. It was a good thing she was so wet, because he clearly wasn’t in the mood to wait. His growl was rough and feral as he immediately began to fuck her. The evidence of his rabid need only fueled her arousal. She hugged the bench, keeping herself steady for his onslaught, pushing back even, wanting more of him . . . craving all of him. His pounding cock was merciless. She felt herself cresting.

“Scream for me,” he rasped behind her. “Scream again for me, Emma.”

She wasn’t sure if she screamed or not. All thought left her as she finally succumbed to the burn, igniting gloriously. She came back to herself at the sensation of an almost uncomfortable pressure. She glanced around and whimpered. He’d come up on to his feet and had lifted her hips, serving her pussy to his cock in a relentless frenzy of need. He was so beautiful, it felt like something was going to burst inside her. She put her cheek back on the bench, helpless in the clutches of the storm. Her fingers brushed across the paddle he’d leaned there and she gripped it tight, the smooth wood grounding her for some reason. He cursed. She grimaced at the sensation of him swelling huge inside her. His low growl amplified to a roar.

He began to pour himself into her. She stared blindly, her mouth hanging open at the amazing sensation . . . the sacred one. He kept coming for what felt like an unprecedented period of time, sinking his cock again and again into her depths while he gasped and grunted.

His fucking motions eventually slowed, until he just held her fast against him, and the only sounds in the room were their erratic panting and in the distance, the sound of the sea breaking against the shore far below.

He lifted her and carried her over to the mussed bed. While she snuggled into the softness, he stripped off the rest of his clothes. When he lay on his back a moment later with Emma’s head on his chest and the cool breeze drifting across his heated skin, he experienced a rare, profound sense of peace. He trailed his hand up Emma’s supple back and along her arm, relishing in her shape and the silkiness of her skin.

Her presence.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

She lifted her head off his chest and looked at him. Her hair was a mess of gilded waves. Her cheeks and lips were still stained pink. She was adorable. Sexy as hell. He didn’t used to think those two things could go hand in hand so perfectly until he’d met Emma.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her soft brown eyes moving over his face.

His gaze narrowed. “There’s nine of them,” he said distractedly.

She raised her eyebrows in a query.

“Nine freckles on your nose,” he clarified.

“I hate every one of them,” she said, rolling her eyes and covering her nose with her hand.

He sat up partially, turning her in his arms so that she lay pinned beneath him. Her hand fell away in her surprise at his abrupt action. “I love every one,” he growled ominously. He kissed her nose repeatedly, stilling her wriggling, the sound of her laughter making him smile. “One kiss for each adorable freckle,” he said before he leaned down and tasted her lips. She was so sweet. Everywhere, he thought as his tongue dipped into her mouth. He’d like to kiss her like that in the soft bed forever, with the refreshing breeze cooling him, desire banked but glowing inside him like a warm ember that would leap back into a flame at any moment. When he lifted his head a moment later, her liquid brown eyes had gone sober as she looked up at him.

“I know what you meant now,” she whispered breathlessly. “When you said once that you could do exactly what you did to Astrid to me, and it would be completely different.”

A pain went through him at the idea of her still thinking about what she’d seen in that armoire. He meant what he’d said earlier. If only he could erase that night from her memory. If only he could eradicate it from his. He realized he was so caught up in his shame about what she’d seen that perhaps he hadn’t fully understood her.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his fingers brushing against the delicate line of her jaw. “Don’t tell me you thought that”—he glanced in the direction of the bench—“was remotely like what you saw that night.”

“No. It wasn’t. That’s my point,” she said softly. “I mean, some of the actions might have been similar, but . . .” She faded off, seeming to struggle with finding the right words.

“I was making love to you, Emma,” he said starkly, exposing himself in an uncommon way because he hated to see her uncertainty. “I know I told you I wasn’t cut out for the long term, and then you set the time limit on our time together. Maybe you think that means that what we do together doesn’t matter, in any lasting sense . . . that it’s just sex. Just gratification. I disagree. I could be doing the kinkiest thing in the world to you, and I’d still be making love to you,” he said, trailing his finger over her flushed cheek. He saw amazement creep across her expression and raised his eyebrows. “Do you understand?” he asked, stroking her temple and the shell of her ear and relishing her tiny shiver.

“Yes,” she whispered before she touched his cheek, her simple caress and the expression in her eyes sweeter to him than anything he could ever recall in his life.

Chapter 30

Emma was not thrilled at the idea of rising from the comfortable bed and leaving Vanni’s arms in order to prepare for the dinner at the Hôtel Le Maj. The only consolation she had was that Vanni seemed just as reluctant to leave the bed as she was.

“At least after the race on Sunday, I’ll have you all to myself for nearly a week,” he told her later as they stood in the bathroom together, naked and entwined. He kissed her softly and she felt herself melting against his solid, warm length. His open hand trailed over her ass and she shivered. “Are you sore?” he asked, breaking their kiss but still nibbling at her lips.

She shook her head, brushing her mouth against his. “It stings a little.” She glanced up at him humorously. “Certainly enough for me to think about it all night . . . again and again. That was your plan, right?”

His smile was a wry flash of brilliance. “Great. I set myself up for that one. Now I’ll be thinking about it all night, too, knowing you are.” He ducked his head, kissing her again, his hunger palpable. He grimaced when he stepped away a moment later. “I’d like to shower with you, but it’ll lead to other things.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No, it sounds fantastic,” he said grimly. “Too fantastic, because we’re running late. I’ll go and shower and get ready in the room next door.” He released her and stalked toward the bathroom door. She just stood there for a moment, befuddled by the vision of his long legs, strong back, and jaw-dropping ass. He opened the door and passed through it.