St. Clair squeezes my hand, and I remember, he’s still holding it. Then he brings it to his lips, and drops a light kiss on my knuckles. It’s just a moment of contact, but I shiver, remembering those lips on mine.

And more…

As a rush of heat spreads low in my belly, I force myself to shake away the memory before I get too distracted.

Charles doesn’t let go of my hand and we walk a little further, the buildings full of brick and wood, old, sturdy construction. “We don’t have this kind of age to the buildings in California,” I say, looking around. “Everything feels so stately here.”

He smiles. “Stately sounds boring.”

“You know, sophisticated. Cultured, full of art everywhere you turn.” We come across a small courtyard with a fountain. Statues of three young women stand in stone in the pool, water cascading out of their heads. “Like, how pretty is this? There are little pockets of beauty all over this city.”

St. Clair pauses, and then a wicked grin spreads across his handsome face. “Let’s take a dip, shall we?”

“What?” I gasp. “No! Isn’t that illegal?”

St. Clair laughs at me as he loosens his tie and takes off his shoes. “Who cares?”

Then, before I can process that he’s actually serious, he climbs over the fountain rim and wades into the water.

“Come on,” he calls, beckoning me. “You’re missing all the fun!”

He stands back, under the spray of the fountain. Water soaks through his shirt, plastering it to his body, and drips in rivulets off his wet hair.

He looks like a masterpiece himself: honed from the finest marble, designed by an expert.

“Grace!” St. Clair insists. He scoops up some water and splashes it at me, but I jump back with a smile, just in time. “Are you going to stand around watching all night?”

I would if I could, but the temptation is too much. I want to feel what it’s like to be so spontaneous and reckless. Giggling, I take off my shoes, and gingerly step into the water.

“It’s cold!” I shriek.

“Come here.” He grabs me and pulls me deeper, under the spray. The water cascades over us and we’re drenched in seconds. I cling to him, laughing, and then slowly, my laughter fades.

He’s looking at me with a raw hunger in his eyes. Desire. I’ve never seen anything like it before.

“Hi,” I whisper, looking up into his eyes. Water drips down his perfect cheekbones, over his mouth. I can’t help but stare.

“Hi.” He moves a wet strand of hair off my forehead and our eyes lock as he leans in to kiss me. Slow and hot and deep. I melt into it, and he yanks me closer, until I’m crushed against his wet, chiseled body.

God, it feels good. I spread my lips and let his tongue invade. He groans and bites at my lower lip, his need fueling my desire. I grab his wet shirt and drag him closer, wanting more, wanting that crackling, full body skin to skin contact. I don’t know how long we’re there, caught up in this epic kiss, but suddenly, there’s the loud blare of a horn.

“Yeah! Get in there!” a holler comes. I break away from Charles to see a car of guys all whooping and cheering as they pass.

I flush red, embarrassed, but St. Clair just laughs and waves back.

I catch my breath, reeling. I could kiss him all night. I hesitate for half a moment and then look him in the eye. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?” I whisper.

“I’m not sure I can wait that long.” He kisses my ear lobe, plants lingering kisses on my neck, his lips warm against my wet skin. “My place is closer.” He rubs his thumbs across my neckline, sending a shiver of longing that spreads out and pools between my thighs.

I try to keep it together. “Sounds good.”

“Let’s hail a cab.”

We make out the whole way to St. Clair’s apartment, steaming up the back windows of the cab like a couple of teenagers. When the cab pulls up to the entrance, St. Clair throws a couple of twenty pound notes down. “Keep the change.”

He hustles me inside, kissing me up against the wall before the door has even closed behind us.

“You’re all wet,” he murmurs, caressing my breasts through my wet clingy dress and the lace of my bra.

I shiver against him, running my hands across his torso. I peel away his shirt, stripping him down to his bare skin as I kiss along his chest. I’m so caught up in the moment, I’m hardly able to stay on my feet. I should take a moment to calm down, to think this through, but I don’t want to.

I want to lose myself in him and never come up for air.

St. Clair takes my chin and tilts my face up toward his to claim my mouth again, kissing me passionately. He reaches around to unzip my dress and it slides to the floor. I let out a small moan, remembering the last time he undressed me, the way his hot tongue traced the curves of my body. I shudder in anticipation. He unclasps my bra and dips his head to kiss my breasts. I moan again at the sensation, arching against him, desperate for more. He teases my nipples, licking at them until they’re stiff with need, then taking each into his mouth in turn. He sucks hard, and I cry out with pleasure, clinging to his broad shoulders to keep from swooning to the floor. But I needn’t worry – he lifts me up then, sweeping me into his strong arms and carrying me through the dark apartment to his bedroom.

St. Clair sets me gently on the bed. I gaze up at him as he slowly peels off my panties, and suddenly I’m laying naked and spread before him. His eyes devour every inch of me in the dark.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, slowly undoing his belt and stripping off his pants. “I could look at you forever.”

My heart sings, but as much as his words are a gift, I need more from him; not just more: everything. When he’s naked, I pull him down to me, covering my body with his. The feel of him, skin to skin, is incredible. I can hardly believe it. And then I feel the hot length of him, hard and rigid against me.

Yes.

I lay back, spreading my thighs wider in welcome. “I want you so much,” I whisper, and St. Clair groans in answer. He reaches across to the nightstand, and a moment later, settles between my hips. I feel his fingers caress lightly between us, stroking my clit with perfect pressure until I can’t take the heat anymore. “All of you.” I reach for him, so big and hard, and guide him toward me, ready and waiting. “God, Charles…”

He enters me slowly, like he’s savoring every inch of sensation. I press my head up against his shoulders, it’s such a rush. God, he feels so good.

“Grace,” his voice is strained, and his usually calm expression is replaced with pure need. He rocks deeper, thrusting harder, filling me completely. I gasp and dig my teeth into his shoulder, my nails into his back. I wrap my legs around his torso as he plunges in and out, deeper and faster, and I feel a swell of sweet fire building, the throbbing pressure rising like a tide. He squeezes my ass, holding me in place, and bites at my neck, groaning low in his throat. This is everything I need.

My hips rise to meet his and I throw my head back, reveling in the sensation as his thrusts become quicker, harder, deeper, getting lost in the hot build of our rhythm until the orgasm rips through me like a tsunami, a beautiful wave of pure pleasure strong enough to drown in. I feel St. Clair tense, and then his climax is ripped from him too, and I hear him cry out my name as we both fall into the bliss.

CHAPTER 8

I wake up surrounded by soft sheets in a luxurious bed, feeling dazed and disoriented, but content. I smell coffee before I open my eyes. “Mmm, that smells good,” I say out loud, still sleepy.

“Hey there, sleepy head.” St. Clair kisses my cheek and I suddenly remember everything about last night.

Everything.

“Hey.” I peek at the man beside me, and can’t help but smile. His sleep-tousled hair is sticking up adorably, and his normally chiseled features seem softer, more relaxed. I want to kiss him all over.