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And then what?
She withdrew her hand and crushed her eyes closed. ‘It’s not going to happen,’ she said, as firmly as she could muster. ‘No matter how much you think I want it, I don’t.’
‘You don’t? Well, that’s my mistake. I’m definitely losing my touch.’
‘Maybe I’m not a good multi-tasker, but I can only focus on one thing at a time. And right now I want to get my head straight for the morning.’
No, I don’t. No, I don’t. I want this. I want you, the voice in her head screamed.
She sighed. She felt as if she was standing at the edge of a precipice. Everything she’d ever wanted was on this side. But now there was another choice. A different path. And it felt so compelling, so completely and utterly right, to jump. To lean across and kiss him.
If only he would take the decision out of her hands…
But he was looking at his phone again, shaking his head.
‘Of course,’ he said, standing up. ‘It’s a big day.’
‘Yes, I’ll have a shower and then go to bed.’
She stretched her arms over her head in a ludicrous fake yawn.
‘Night, then,’ she said, but he had already put his phone to his ear.
‘Scusami?’
He walked into the lounge, murmuring in Italian.
She pushed herself up from the table and wandered through the hallway to the bathroom, kicking off her heels. She felt her bare feet sink into the rug as she went, cursing and questioning and doubting what she had just done.
What if she had missed the chance of a lifetime?
Behind her she heard a door close and she stopped dead, listening.
She heard the murmur of his voice. Deep and low. Sensually wrapping round vowels like a caress.
She unclipped the crystal earrings and bracelet. She squirted lotion on cotton wool and dragged the eyeliner from her eyes. Then she unzipped the dress, slipped it off her shoulders and let it slide in a sensuous swoosh over her thighs to the floor.
She was in her best underwear—silvery satin balcony cups that held her breasts high and high-waisted, sheer-panelled knickers. What a shame he wouldn’t see them. She turned in front of the mirror and twisted to the side, looking to see the perfect curves he’d said she had. Suddenly she felt very, very feminine.
In the next room he was still talking. She brushed her hair and let it hang down heavily on her shoulders, then closed her eyes, remembering his appraisal of her body earlier. How the very heat of him had made her melt. How his hands had skimmed her waist and how he’d stopped just short of her breasts. How he’d rubbed at her nipples with his eyes. And how they’d responded.
She unclipped her bra and released her breasts. Her nipples were pink and proud. Dear God, she was ready for his touch. He was right. She had been ready since she’d seen him at the airstrip.
There was no sound coming from the lounge. She paused, listening, but made no attempt to put on her robe or cover her nakedness. As each moment ticked past her body screamed for his touch. She should go back out there and find him.
She slipped out of her panties and walked slowly across the room, her heart thundering in her chest.
Her arousal was so strong now that her swollen flesh rubbed gloriously as she walked. He was there, in the house. She could feel him, could feel his strong, presence. His energy. His desire.
At the door, she paused. She stretched out her hand. Her fingers shook with anticipation. If only he would come for her—she wouldn’t stop what would happen. She would follow her gut instead of her head.
But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. She would never forgive herself if it all went wrong. She let her hand drop and then turned towards the en suite bathroom. She would have to satisfy herself alone.
In the shower, she lathered her hair and her body with cream and looked at the suds as they slid over her. She lathered her heavy breasts, her round tummy. She lifted the shower head and rinsed away the suds, letting the water soak down to the dart of dark hair between her legs.
She held it there and the water drummed against her swollen clitoris. It felt so good, easing the ache that had been building for hours. But it was not enough.
She replaced the shower head and then closed her eyes and thought of Raffa kissing her. She slid her fingers over her flesh and sighed with the sweet pain. It was heaven. She touched the slick folds and rubbed a little more. She was so wet, so swollen… She longed for him to fill his hands with her breasts. She imagined him undressing her, undressing him. She imagined tearing off that shirt and sliding her fingers all over his chest, burying her face against his muscles, flicking her tongue over his flat nipples, nuzzling the hair that ran across his chest.
She rubbed harder, crying out with little breaths. In her mind she was trailing her fingers down from his navel, unbuttoning his jeans and then taking him, hot and hard, in her hand. It was long and thick. Then she was putting it in her mouth.
