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IT WAS A relief to hear her say that. The moment Amelia put boundaries around this thing, Benedetto recognised that a part of his misgivings had come from an anxiety around hurting her, leading her on.
‘I’m glad to hear you say that,’ he said, honestly. ‘I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.’
A smile tilted her lips. ‘That you’re madly in love with me? Don’t worry, you haven’t.’
It was easy to return her smile, but he knew he owed her more of an explanation. ‘It’s not you. It’s who I am.’
‘I know that,’ she said quietly.
‘After Sash—even before Sash,’ he corrected. ‘I hated the idea of being in a relationship.’
‘I guess your parents weren’t the best example.’
‘True.’
‘So you’ve avoided commitments all your life?’
‘Until Sasha,’ he said, stroking his chin.
‘Well, I’m not looking for commitment,’ she said. ‘As soon as I can, I intend to disappear from everyone all over again.’
‘You can’t do that.’ He thought of Anton’s family, of how much they loved Amelia, of how painful it was to lose a child, and hated the thought of her leaving them for a second time.
But Amelia only offered a wistful half-smile in response.
‘So beyond this boat trip, we can forget we ever knew each other.’
Was that relief Benedetto felt again? She was making this so easy for him.
‘But while we’re here?’ he prompted, watching her carefully, so he saw the way a delicate pulse point at the base of her throat sped up.
‘While we’re here,’ she murmured, ‘I think we should enjoy the ride.’ She pulled her hair over one shoulder. ‘It doesn’t mean anything, Ben, but that’s not to say we can’t have fun...’
She moved a hand to his chest, pressed it there, her body sparking at the simple, innocuous touch. Their eyes met. She felt something stir inside her. Despite what she’d just said, and the important clarification she’d needed to make to protect herself and Ben from any possible complications, there was something about being so close to him, after their conversation about Sasha, that felt so intimate, as though she had a hotline to parts of his soul that were fundamental and raw. She moved closer instinctively, her lips almost meeting his.
‘I like being friends, rather than fighting.’
‘Fighting was fun too,’ he said with a grin, but then he was kissing her quickly, as though magnetically drawn to her, and Amelia was moving too, urgently, needing him with all of herself, her body flooded with desire and pleasure and a thousand things she couldn’t define and didn’t recognise. He moved first, lifting her easily, carrying her against his chest, carrying her away from the deck, into the corridor and towards her bedroom.
Inside, they fell to the mattress together, and Amelia rolled over, straddling him, running her hands over his torso as he gripped the edges of her dress and lifted it, groaning when it came over her head, revealing her naked breasts. His hands roamed her body, cupping her, pulling at her nipples as she moved over his arousal, her underwear and his clothes unwelcome barriers to the coming together they both desperately needed, but even through the fabric she could feel his hardness and she rolled her hips, moaning at how close she was to feeling him, at how perfect it was to be this close. Torture and pleasure, all wrapped up inside her.
‘God, Benedetto, this is so—I didn’t know—’
He kissed the words back into her mouth, as if he’d said them himself or thought them. She arched her back and he moved to sit, his mouth finding her nipples, then seeking her lips once more, his kiss moving over her collarbone, his stubble dragging against the sensitive flesh. His hands cupped her bottom, moving her over his length, holding her down, lifting her up, separating her buttocks, inviting her, needing her, wanting her until finally he made a guttural noise and rolled her onto her back, stared down at her with breath hissing between his teeth.
‘What is it?’ She brushed her hair out of her face. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘You could say that.’
Amelia’s heart thumped.
‘I don’t have protection. Tomorrow I’m stocking every damned room in this boat. But for now—wait here.’
‘Oh.’ Relief flooded her; she smiled. ‘Okay.’
He was back almost immediately. ‘You ran?’ she teased, biting into her lip, his need for her the hottest aphrodisiac she’d known.
‘A professional sprinter would have eaten my dust,’ he agreed, pushing out of his trousers and rolling a condom over his length before coming back over her, kissing her, moving a hand between her legs, separating her thighs, bringing himself to her sex, pausing there a moment before entering her in one single motion, hard, fast, desperate, a thousand times more filled with need than the last time they’d done this when it had been new and different and they’d been exploring their attraction.
