knew what?’
Dominic’s hand reached for her bare arm and instantly her skin felt as if he’d burned her. The pain that flared in the pit of her stomach was purely sexual, its fiery tendrils spreading down both her legs.
She knew an urgent need to press herself against him, to allow the fever smouldering inside her to take control. But no matter how sorry he was, how sympathetic, he could do nothing physically to ease her pain.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, stepping back from him, breaking his hold, and Dominic raked frustrated fingers though his hair.
But it was just as well one of them had some sense, he conceded, even if he could have done without her conscience asserting itself right now.
He felt the ache between his legs, glanced down and saw the unmistakable swell of his erection. What did this woman do to him? he wondered. One touch and his body took control.
‘I think you’re exaggerating people’s reactions,’ he said harshly, in an effort to ground himself. But even to his own ears, his voice was edged with strain.
‘Well, I don’t want your grandfather’s money,’ she said. ‘So tell that to whoever’s prepared to listen. I’ll be leaving here in a few days anyway. Then it won’t matter either way.’
Dominic stared at her with anguished eyes. Dammit, he didn’t want to see her go. But to tell her that would be madness. He wasn’t interested in making that kind of commitment, to her or anyone else.
He had to put any thought of a relationship between them out of his mind…
With a muffled oath, he abandoned any attempt to reason with her. Turning, he plunged into the water, hoping against hope that the ocean would ease his mangled emotions.
Cleo’s lips parted in astonishment when she saw what he was doing. Dominic had gone into the water still wearing his vest and shorts. Was he mad or simply reckless? Why did it matter so much what he did?
She stared after him, watching as he struck out strongly into the current. The weight of his clothes didn’t appear to hamper his progress, but she was anxious just the same.
Allowing herself to tread a little deeper into the shallows, she wished she had the nerve to do something reckless. And as the salty water swirled about her ankles, she could feel the erratic beating of her heart.
Dominic had almost disappeared. His head appeared only fleetingly above the waves. She prayed he knew what he was doing. That he had the sense to know when to turn back.
A thin line of gold was fringing the horizon now, and in the growing light she saw—much to her relief—that he was swimming back to shore. She envied him his skill, the strength with which his arms attacked the waves and defeated them. He looked like a dark, powerful predator moving through the water, and she knew if she had any sense she’d be long gone before he reached the beach.
But still she waited.
Dominic reached the shallows and, pushing himself to his feet, he walked towards her. He was dripping water every where, from his hair, from his arms, from his legs. Even from his lashes as he blinked to clear his gaze.
Pushing his hair back with both hands, he caught Cleo’s gaze and held it. He knew she’d been watching him, had felt her staring at him, even with so many yards of ocean between them. And, as her eyes dropped down his body, he realised his swim had done nothing to kill his lust.
With a feeling of inevitability, he closed the gap between them. Then, before she could do anything to stop him, he reached out and jerked her into his arms.
His mouth found hers and it was just as sweet and lush and hot as he had imagined. His tongue licked, probed, seeking and finding entry. And she opened to him eagerly, it seemed, welcoming his invasion.
Cleo’s world spun. To try and steady herself, she clutched his hips above the cropped waistband of his shorts. And found smooth muscled flesh, narrow bones that moved beneath her fingers. Raw, uncontrolled passion in the way his body ground against hers.
‘Cleo!’
She heard his strangled groan as if from a distance. But whatever protest it might have signalled made little difference to his urgent assault on her emotions.
His tongue mated with hers, velvet-soft and undeniably sexual. Cleo felt as if she was drowning in sensation, the will to keep a hold on her senses as fleeting as the clouds that briefly veiled the sun.
Dominic deepened the kiss, his hands slipping the narrow straps of her dress off her shoulders. He seemed to delight in the silky smoothness of her olive-toned skin.
As the thin fabric dropped away, Cleo made a futile attempt to stop it. Drawing back from his kiss, she gazed at him wildly, her breathing as uneven as her pounding heartbeat.
‘Let me,’ Dominic insisted, removing her fingers. And, as the dress fell to her waist, he cupped her breasts in his eager hands.
His thumbs rubbed abrasively over the tender dusky nipples. They were already tight, he saw, and swollen with need. Then, dropping onto his knees in front of her, he let the dress fall about her ankles. He apparently didn’t care that it was now as wet as he was. Instead, he buried his face against her quivering mound.
Cleo’s legs shook. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to think coherently, let alone push him away. She was naked, but for the lacy thong that Norah had assured her was all she needed under the flimsy chiffon. And when Dominic licked her navel, she let out a trembling cry.
Dominic’s body felt as if it was on fire. As he pressed his face against her softness, his lungs quickly filled with her exotic scent. She was satin and silk, the rarest of spices, and oh, so responsive. His hands gripped the backs of her thighs. He wanted to rip the scrap of lace away.
It barely did the job anyway, he acknowledged. Dark curls spilled out at either side, and he wondered if those hidden lips were moist. He guessed they were, slick with the arousal rising to his nostrils. His hands moved to cup her rounded bottom. Just touching her like this was both a heaven and a hell.
He wanted to touch her everywhere, he wanted to touch her and taste her, and spread those gorgeous legs so he could—
Sanity struck him like a peen hammer. They were here—on a private beach, it was true—but one of his grandfather’s groundsmen raked the sand every morning. How would Cleo feel if someone saw them? While he might not have any inhibitions, Dominic was fairly sure Cleo would.
Abandoning the erotic image of laying her down on the warm sand and relieving the hard-on he’d had since he’d first seen her on the beach, Dominic got reluctantly to his feet.
Dammit, he thought, he’d been semi-aroused since their confrontation the night before. If you could call what had happened between them a confrontation. Whatever, he’d wanted her then and he wanted her now.
God help him!
Even so, he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of lifting one of her pouting breasts to his mouth and suckling briefly on its puckered tip. She tasted so good; so irresistible. How could he let her go?
Desire sparked anew, and he opened his lips wide and allowed her nipple to brush the roof
