arms to the bed on either side of him. Eyes glittering, she looked down on him.
‘Got you’ she whispered throatily.
He gazed up at her as a slow smile curved his bruised lips, making those little brackets at each corner of his mouth. Sinuously he edged downwards beneath her, so that her crotch was centimetres from his mouth.
He breathed out. Heavily.
She moaned as the heat of his breath fanned the fire raging through her pelvis and caressed her more intimately, more delicately, more thoroughly than she had thought possible. Her eyes closed in blissful submission, then flew open again as she felt the first stroke of his tongue.
‘Oh, God. Oh—oh, Angelo—’
He felt the shudder that shook her whole body.
‘Take them off,’ he breathed.
Her hands went to her bikini bottoms and she rose up on her knees as she frantically tugged them downwards. He watched her, waiting for the moment when she would have to lift her knees to remove the tiny scrap of white fabric, and as she did so he flipped her over so she rolled on to the bed beneath him.
In one fluid movement he was astride her.
‘Got you.’
She jerked and bucked under his thighs, half rising up on her elbows, wanting to fight, but wanting to surrender more. He inserted a knee between her hot, writhing thighs, separating her legs and spreading them wide open. Growling, snarling, she pushed her hips upwards, questing for the hardness of him that she could see but not touch, almost deranged with the need to feel him inside her.
Watching him slide on a condom was almost more than she could bear.
With one slow thrust he entered her, and felt a sudden shock, like lightning through his veins at the momentary look of vulnerability that passed across her face, the soft gasp that sprang from her sweet mouth. Surely she couldn’t be…?
‘Anna?’
He withdrew, and she let out a cry of pure desperation, arching her hips up towards him again. Her eyes locked into his, any trace of hesitation vanished in the blistering heat of her need. Sensing his uncertainty she pressed her fists against his chest, clawing, beating, every blow an expression of her longing. He thrust slowly into her again.
‘Who are you?’ he whispered harshly, almost despairingly.
Her eyes were a dark abyss from which she looked at him with hopeless desire.
‘I don’t know. I’m—oh, God—’ He thrust into her again. ‘I’m whatever … you want me … to be.’
He leaned forward, low over her face, brushing her lips with his as he withdrew again.
‘Or everything I don’t want you to be.’
He thrust into her again. Through a haze of ecstasy she looked up at him.
‘That’s …’ she breathed out, closed her eyes and slid a hand around his neck, pulling his head down to hers so that her lips caressed his ear ‘… that’s what you like. That’s why I’m here.’
With a primitive growl he gathered her to his chest and then they were rolling and fighting and writhing together in a tangle of limbs and hands and mouths, until finally Anna arched her back and let out a shout of rapture that drifted across the dark ocean. In silent joy Angelo held her shuddering body and let go, feeling his own release like a triumph.
Her hair fanned out on the pillow, black and pink. He looked down at her, at her heart-shaped face, her flushed cheeks, her swollen mouth with its perfect Cupid’s-bow lips smudged and reddened. Silently she looked back. Defiant, but defeated by her own need.
She must have slept, or at least fallen into that deeply relaxed state of total, contented submission. The next thing she knew Angelo was gently easing his arm out from beneath her head and tugging the sheet over her naked body.
‘Hmm? What are you doing? Where are you going?’
He leaned over her, his perfect face as blank and pale as marble in the moonlight.
‘I’m going back to my cabin.’
‘No! Stay! You can’t just leave like that, after we … after that.’ She stretched out a hand towards him, suddenly bereft. He captured it and kissed her fingertips, then placed her hand softly down on the bed.
He stood upright, looking terrifyingly remote and heartbreakingly gorgeous.
She struggled into a sitting position, clutching the sheet to her breasts as she watched him walk towards the door. ‘Angelo—’ she called out, unable to stop herself. He turned.
‘Did I do something wrong?’ He shook his head, unsmiling. ‘Sex is for sharing. But I sleep alone.’ And with that he was gone.
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