“Fuck,” he snarled, feeling her excitement. He switched his hands to her wrists, pushing her hands into the pillow. He extended his long legs on the mattress and reared up over her. Emma clenched her eyes shut, intuiting what was coming. He came up on his toes and the balls of his feet, driving his cock into her with the power of his whole body. He fucked her like that for several heart-stopping moments, the headboard clacking loudly against the wall, Emma keening uncontrollably. The friction he built in her sparked and flared. She shook in climax as he power-fucked her, seeking his own relief with blind desperation.

He roared as he came, the harsh sound blistering her ears and echoing in her skull. He caught his breath and thrust into her again, another shout tearing out of his throat. She’d never witnessed him more savage.

She’d never seen him so beautiful.

He collapsed down over her after a moment, gasping wildly for air. In his momentary weakness, she broke free of his hold on her hands. She put her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Something swelled in her chest, something sweet and huge and agonizingly sharp.

“Shh,” she soothed, rubbing his back muscles, feeling his ribs expand and contract as he fought for air. His head fell between her neck and shoulder. She could feel the puffs of his warm breath against her skin.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her fingers delving into his thick hair. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

His panting ceased, his rib cage convulsing, before he exhaled again roughly. “I want more time.”

“What?” she asked, her hands freezing.

“Give me more time,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

“I . . . We can talk about it later,” she fumbled. He lifted his head and scored her with his stare. “Don’t, Vanni. Don’t make me decide right now.”

“Why?” he asked, still panting. She felt cornered by the single word and all its meanings.

“Because it’s already happening . . . what I didn’t want to happen,” spilled out of her throat. It was hard to withhold the truth after his fiery, honest lovemaking. He stilled.

“What? What’s happened?”

“I’m starting to fall in love with you,” she said desperately. “It may already be too late.”

His expression flattened.

“Emma,” he whispered fiercely. He shook his head incredulously. “How can you say that to me after what I just did to you?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I think that’s what popped it out of me.”

He stared at her, his face rigid with shock. Then his mouth twitched. His smile broke free at the same time hers did, a brilliant radiance after a storm. An unpleasant thought intruded, but it couldn’t entirely erase her grin.

“What your friends must think of me . . .” she whispered, trailing off as she mentally answered her own question.

“If anything, they’ll think I’m the rude caveman, hauling you off like I did. Rightfully so. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he added darkly under his breath. “And they really aren’t my friends, except for Niki. And he’ll only be glad something has broken me out of my funk.”

Emma thought of how stunned Niki had looked when Vanni charged down the stairwell just now, dragging Emma after him, then how pleased; how he’d called out “don’t be” when she’d apologized for their rude exit from the party.

“You know, I think you’re right,” she mused.

“Of course I’m right. Emma, the whole idea of you walking away at the tick of a clock is ridiculous.”

She opened her mouth to say he was supposed to be walking away, too . . . that he’d taken pains to warn her that he would, but then he was kissing her, deep and sweet, and her thoughts flew away like scattered moths.

She knew only one thing for certain. Despite her thoughts about feeling compelled to the truth just now, she’d lied.

She wasn’t starting to fall. She’d already landed.

Good and hard.

Chapter 35

The next morning Emma rose early when Vanni did. He would go down to the racing circuit to make sure everything was in order, take care of last minute-details, and do a last-minute check of the Montand racecar with Niki, then return to La Mer to pick up Emma for the race itself. She’d showered, thrown on a sundress, and gone downstairs before him. It was another perfect day on the French Riviera. Emma wondered if there were ever days that weren’t sun drenched and infused with the sweet breezes off the Mediterranean.

Mrs. Denis was in high spirits for raceday. She led Emma out onto the terrace and proudly displayed a breakfast table laid with china, silver, colorful flags, and what appeared to be a miniature version of the Montand racecar.

“They’re selling them in the village. I thought Vanni would like to see it,” Mrs. Denis said, laughing as Emma picked up the little black, red, and blue car with Montand and the number 14 painted on the side in white. She heard a sound behind her and turned to see Vanni walking onto the terrace. Her gaze dipped over him appreciatively. No one could wear a tuxedo with such masculine, careless grace as him, and then morph into a casual resort mode with equal comfort. He was clean-shaven this morning and his eyes looked cool and sharp and focused . . . until they landed on her, Emma realized with a rush of warmth. She held up the little car as he approached, smiling.

“Look what Mrs. Denis got you. Lucky boy, you get to play with the real thing.”

“And she better play nice for Niki today,” he said, his uncommon, brilliant smile warming her even further.

“Happy Raceday. Bonne chance, Montand!” Mrs. Denis enthused, waving her hand with a little flourish. Emma laughed. She was adorable. Vanni must have thought the same thing, because he leaned down and kissed the housekeeper on both cheeks. Mrs. Denis looked extremely pleased, giving Emma a pointed glance.

“What have you done to my gloomy Vanni?”

“She’s beat him into the shadows, where he belongs,” Vanni said without pause, meeting Emma’s stare, a smile lingering on his lips. Emma felt herself color at the potent compliment.

“I knew you were luck to us,” Mrs. Denis enthused, patting Emma softly on the arm.

Vanni chuckled and leaned down, kissing both of Emma’s warm cheeks and then her lips, where he lingered. Mrs. Denis cleared her throat. “I’ll get your breakfast.” Which seemed to be a signal for Vanni to pull her closer and kiss her in earnest.

“You smell delicious,” he said a moment later, nuzzling her neck. “Maybe I should skip breakfast and eat you instead.”

“You already did,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips brushed against her pulse.

“Two meals is a lucky tradition on raceday, especially when they’re as delicious as you.” He kissed a patch of skin just below her ear and then scraped it lightly with his teeth. She shivered in excitement. He transferred his mouth to the opening of her ear, and she felt herself melting.

“You just made that up,” she said.

“I’m entitled. It’s the first Montand grand prix. I have to start raceday traditions sometime.”

“You’re not really thinking of going back to bed, are you?” she asked weakly.

“Of course I’m thinking of it,” he said, straightening his head and pinning her with a lambent stare.

She smiled. She was thinking of it, too, and he knew it.

“We shouldn’t,” she said in a hushed tone. “I can still look Mrs. Denis in the eye without blushing, unlike Niki. And the rest of the people on the yacht.”

His mouth tilted in amusement. They both heard Mrs. Denis’s footsteps inside, bringing them their breakfast. Vanni’s dark brows went up in a silent message of resignation. He seated her at the table instead of leading her back to the bedroom. She knew he was thinking about what happened yesterday after he’d hauled her off to bed. She was thinking about it, too.