him again and she reveled in the low growl that rumbled in his chest. Always before when she’d imagined being intimate with a man, she’d imagined it meant giving him power over her. But what she hadn’t realized was just how much power she would have over him.
She moved her hand over the length of him, not quite able to believe just how thick and hard he felt. She hadn’t realized that men could be so big. And yet, there was no fear with that revelation, only a sensual thrill that rushed through her, making her feel light-headed, breathless.
Dimly Alison registered the chirpy tones of a cell phone. Despite the interruption, her hands continued to roam over him, to explore him, the everyday sound not quite able to penetrate the fog of desire that was totally clouding her ability for rational thought.
“Che cavolo.” Max swore and jumped away from her as though her touch burned him. He moved to the table where he’d placed his mobile phone and answered it in rough Italian, his chest rising and falling harshly with his breathing, the aggressive jut of his arousal pushing visibly against the thin fabric of his shorts.
Alison’s heart was pounding hard in her ears. Very slowly she started to come back to reality. She could feel the heat of the sun, the salt breeze … hear seagulls screaming at each other down on the beach. She had just about made love with a man outside. Correction: she had been in the process of making love with him even if they hadn’t been quite to the point of actual intercourse. And any of the household staff members could have come out and seen them, caught them in the act.
She crossed her arms over her breasts, acutely aware of her nudity. Before it had seemed freeing, so nice not to have anything between her and Max. Now it just seemed embarrassing. She didn’t feel sexy anymore. She just felt bare, exposed.
She fished her swimsuit top from beneath the chair and turned her back to Maximo, who was still engaged in his phone conversation, tying her top back on with shaking hands, her clumsy fingers taking twice as long to get herself covered again. She picked up the towel and knotted it fiercely at her breasts, craving all the cover she could get. She took advantage of Maximo’s distraction and sneaked quietly back into the villa. She was not hanging around for another postmortem on an aborted make-out session.
More importantly, she wasn’t going to risk being there if he wanted to pick up where they left off because, despite the healthy dose of humiliation she was suffering from, she wasn’t certain she would be able to resist him.
MAXIMO got off the phone with the casino manager and cursed. Not because the problem at the casino hadn’t been easy to solve—that issue had been handled in only a few minutes—but because of the unsatisfied desire that was still raging through him.
He couldn’t believe he’d almost had sex with Alison outside by his pool, with all of the speed and finesse of a very horny schoolboy. He had never, ever lost control with a woman like that before. He had always taken time when romancing a woman. Selena had never wanted it any other way. She had always needed candles, a dimly lit room. He had always spent at least an hour arousing her body before he’d even considered taking things to their natural conclusion.
But with Alison there had been no romance, no candles. He’d been ready to plunge into her without a full five minutes of foreplay. And what foreplay there had been was clumsy, driven by an intense need, not any kind of skill or consideration. He didn’t know this part of himself; the part that only Alison seemed to be able to bring out in him.
He was a man who prized his control. He always thought things through, always led first with his mind before jumping into action. And yet, Alison, his beautiful, bewitching fiancée, the woman who was pregnant with his child, robbed him of his ability to think coherently.
It was the unknown that was causing his body to respond this way. It had to be. He had desired her from the first moment he’d seen her and every night since then he’d dreamed of her, her smell, the touch of her soft hands, and the wet press of her lips over his body. There was no way the fantasy would live up to the reality, though, because it never did.
He needed to take her, to know once and for all what her desire for him would taste like, know what it felt like to be inside her, know what sounds she would make when he brought her to completion. And once the mystery was solved, the edge would be worn away. It had to be.
He couldn’t wait anymore. He wanted her, and he knew for certain that she wanted him with the same ferocity, that she was just as hungry as he was. And he wasn’t going to allow her to deny it any longer.
Alison scrubbed the chlorine from her skin and wished she could wash away the imprint from Maximo’s touch half as easily. No such luck. Even with the scalding water from the shower coursing over her body, she could still feel the impression of where his hands had touched her, teased her, where his mouth had seared her. She shivered despite the heat and shut the water off.
During her shower she’d decided that she wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done with Max. She was entitled to sexual pleasure if she wanted it. And that was a massive admission in and of itself. She was embarrassed, though, because she’d totally lost track of time and place, and anyone could have walked right up to them and she would have been much too lost in what they were doing to notice. Maybe Maximo, with his stable of previous lovers, was sophisticated enough to deal with something like that. He could probably turn it into a saucy anecdote and laugh about it with his sophisticated friends. Not her, though. She just didn’t have the experience for that, which just went to prove how out of her league Max was.
Ashamed as she was to admit it, she’d looked him up when she’d been on the computer in the office, and she’d seen the kind of women he’d had in his life. Even before his marriage to the supernaturally lovely Selena, he’d had a very high taste level where his girlfriends were concerned. All of them were high-profile models, actresses, socialites, and all of them had been tall, thin and gorgeous. They weren’t the kind of women to run and hide from sexual attraction. They were the kind of women who would pounce on it and tame it, take what they wanted and enjoy doing it.
She realized that she was clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles were white and she slowly released them.
She’d never considered herself a coward. On the contrary, she’d always been prideful about how brave she thought she was. Brave and sensible. Sensible enough to protect herself, keep herself from coming unraveled and completely dependent on someone. Brave because she’d gone out and learned to stand on her own feet, made things happen for herself.
And she’d been the biggest, delusional idiot.
She’d been a coward. She hadn’t dealt with anything. She’d completely walled off a portion of herself so she wouldn’t have to deal with all of the complications that might result from a relationship.
She’d denied any sort of desire for companionship, totally squashed her sexuality, and all the while she’d been congratulating herself for being so strong. It wasn’t strength that had led her to do those things, it was fear. And that was a bitter pill to swallow. She wasn’t much better than her mother. It was just that her general wariness was preemptive rather than a response to something that had happened to her. The result, however, was much the same. Oh, she might not subject everyone to lengthy, vitriolic speeches about men and how you couldn’t trust them, but she carried that belief inside of her. If she wasn’t careful it was going to poison her.
It had to change. She was crippling herself. Ironic, since she’d always been so terrified that losing a lover would
