The property was completely secure; she couldn’t be anywhere else. But knowing that didn’t lead him to feel any calmer. He checked the house again and this time, found her. Asleep. No wonder she hadn’t responded when he’d called her name. She’d drifted off on a sun lounger on the back deck, mercifully in the shade thrown by a nearby tree. She wore a singlet top and shorts, so her golden legs were on display, crossed at the ankle, and her breasts shifted with each gentle breath.
He stood staring at her, his nostrils flaring, his temperature rising, his hands balling into fists as he remembered what it had been like to make love to her, to know her body as intimately ashe’d ever known anyone. He didn’t make a sound, and yet she shifted, sighed, pressing her hand to her stomach, then blinking up at him. Her lips shaped into a smile, full and generous and attributable only to the fact she was still half dreaming.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, groggily, sitting up and looking around.
‘Just after three.’
She blinked. ‘I’ve been asleep for hours.’
‘Yesterday was a big day.’
She pulled a face. ‘Yeah.’
He wondered at the pulling in the centre of his chest, the slightly painful stitching sensation. ‘Did you enjoy any of it, Phoebe?’
Her eyes widened. ‘It…wasn’t about enjoyment. It’s something we had to do, right?’
He should have been glad to hear her speak so pragmatically. It was exactly what he wanted his bride to feel—and to understand he felt. But Phoebe deserved more after everything she’d already been through.
‘It was an experience I’ll never forget,’ she elaborated. ‘That beautiful tiara—what an honour to have worn it.’
He moved to sit on the edge of the sun lounger. There wasn’t much space, so it brought them close together and Phoebe’s breath hitched in her throat.
‘And the dress was really nice, too. That was amazing how Marie was able to organise it so quickly. I had no idea that could be done. And I loved meeting Xiomara. She’s lovely.’
Phoebe was babbling. In a very un-Phoebe manner.
Phoebe was nervous.
Because of him. Nervous good? Nervous bad? Nervous because she couldn’t stop thinking about how much she wanted him?
‘And the food was great. I loved it. My mum tried to make Castilonian food often, but she never quite got it right. It was—’
‘Phoebe,’ he interrupted, hearing the surrender in his tone and not caring. ‘I want to kiss you.’
Phoebe’s lips parted, her concentration visibly wavered, her gaze falling to his mouth. Everything inside of him tightened in anticipation. He’d vowed to wait until she asked, until she begged, but here he was, begging. Needing. Wanting so much it hurt.
He moved forward a little, his body flushed with heat. In the back of his mind, he heard the warning voice. The reminder that the more he wanted someone or something, the smarter it was to back away. It was how he’d lived his life—having had any affection withdrawn from him once his parents died, he’d naturally developed a coping mechanism that had him avoid relying on anyone. Needing anyone.
But sex was different. It was something his body felt and wanted, not his head nor heart. And Phoebe couldn’t hurt his body.
Except, hadn’t the last month and a half hurt him? Physically, at least? He’d barely slept that first month…
Don’t do this.
The wise counsel in his mind should have been obeyed, but Octavio was too far gone to care. It wouldn’t last. That was his sole consolation. At some point, the sexual infatuation would burn out, and everything would be normal again.
And itwasan infatuation, the kind Octavio had never known. But he’d heard about it. He knew it wasn’t rare or unusual. It was just a phase between two people who happened to have a certain chemistry.
He paused, close enough to her lips to kiss her, but doing no such thing. Not until she said something. Anything. He’d kissed her before without her issuing a verbal invitation, but this was different. He needed her to admit she wanted him as well. He was out on a limb and didn’t want to be the only one. Perhapshe also wanted to demonstrate to himself that he was still in control. He wanted her but he wasn’t lost to her.
Phoebe didn’t say anything though. Instead, she closed the rest of the distance between them and claimed his mouth with her own, melding them in a way that made him—and her—moan in awareness and completion. It was the kiss he’d wanted to give her on their wedding day, the kiss that should have sealed their marriage ceremony. It was a kiss that lit every part of him on fire, igniting deep in his soul.
Her body was warm from the sun. He felt it as he pressed himself against her, the sweet roundness of her stomach, her beautiful breasts, he kissed her until she was writhing beneath him and the wordpleasewas flicking into his mouth like the tail-end of a whip, mesmerising him, calling to him, weakening any thoughts he’d had of restraint, any idea that this could just be a kiss.
It could never be just a kiss with them. That was their chemistry. He moved his body over hers, straddling her and kissing her, running his hands through her hair while he tasted her mouth, then removed her shirt, groaning at the sight of her braless body, her beautiful breasts. He remembered them, but they were different now. Fuller, the nipples a darker pink. He dropped his head to one, hungry to feel it in his mouth, needing to roll her nipple with his tongue and revelling in the way she arched her back and screamed his name when he did so.
This felt good. So bloody good. Control was still his; or if it wasn’t, it was something neither of them had.
