Slowly the spasms ebbed and that deliciously warm sense of satisfaction spread through her limbs. Finally some semblance of sanity returned.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered softly.
His jaw clenched. He was still plunged deep inside her in that most intimate, fantastic way and it was still there—that spark that he could so easily ignite into another of those searing, mind-blowing moments. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her against him, and his gaze burned through her, watching every rise and fall of the roller coaster of emotion she was on. He looked purposeful, intense—and hungry. So damned ravenous, she shivered all over again.
‘Rafe?’
‘I don’t think I can hold back any more, Gracie,’ he warned with a low growl.
He’d been holding back? Stunned, her breath stalled—but she was also curious—how much more could he possibly have to give?
‘Don’t hold back.’ She arched to welcome him deeper. ‘I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.’
His answering laugh was more of a choke. ‘Oh, I’m enjoying it all right. It’s just that I’m about to lose it completely.’
A wave of emotion clogged her throat, because now she understood how much he’d been focused on ensuring her pleasure. That meant so much to her and she trusted him completely. But she saw the strain in his features and she wanted him with her in this—every part of him with every part of her.
Tremulously she smiled up at him. Heartfelt and true her words emerged barely audible. ‘Then lose it with me.’
He looked into her eyes and she saw the moment he snapped. A split second later he was gripping her so tightly it was almost painful and his hips bucked. He rammed deeper, faster. With a feral growl he hauled her closer and bore down even harder and heavier. His unleashed pace and intensity unveiled a whole other dimension of it to her. She cried out at the same time he did. It was so powerful that even though he’d gripped her tightly, she had to strengthen her hold on him too. With her arms and body and mouth, she clung, riding with him as he hurtled her straight back up to that stratosphere of delight and sizzling tension. Crushed petals combined with sweat and stuck to them both, filling the balmy air with a sweet-edged scent. Every one of his muscles strained as he pounded into her. Overwhelmed, she arched to meet him push for push, panting in pure ecstasy.
‘Yes,’ he gritted harshly. ‘Yes, Gracie. Yes.’
She screamed as he detonated their world. A kaleidoscope of sensation exploded—shooting them together into a tornado of elation.
It was so much better than good.
RAFAEL VITALE WANTED to stay right where he was, for ever. Damned if he wasn’t utterly amazed. Damned if he wasn’t a greedy, selfish man who’d taken what she’d offered and then some. He shouldn’t have. He should’ve stopped the second she’d revealed her startling virginity secret. But he’d had too much of a taste of her.
He’d tried to go slow, to be gentle, but she hadn’t been slow or gentle with him. She’d been powerful—responsive, passionate, as strong as she was soft. When he’d lost his head, she’d come with him. It had been a rougher ride than he’d intended. But stalling his own orgasm to past the point of torture so he could revel in her unrestrained response had led to a passionate release he hadn’t been able to control. So much faster, so much more physical than he’d planned. Yet it had been the best sex of his very experienced life and listening to her struggle to catch her breath now was intensely satisfying.
He lifted his head—seeing her ravished beauty was nothing short of an onslaught on his soul. She regarded him solemnly, all wide eyes, her lips kiss-swollen parted as she panted raggedly. Her creamy skin was reddened in patches from where his stubble had rasped and from where his teeth had nipped. Her hair was free of that braid and mussed, fragments of crushed petals were stuck to her.
She looked thoroughly well used—and glowing from that surge of electricity that a woman only got from climaxing. And Gracie had come more than once while he’d been locked fast inside her. Sensation rippled out from the base of his spine—pure masculine pleasure and pride. And lust. All over again.
Within the dazed glaze of her warm brown eyes a new awareness flickered. As he studied her, it built—blossoming into a bright sparkle. And then she smiled.
‘Can we do that again?’ she said.
It was both shy request and husky order—one he had no ability to ignore. Because what should have been impossible was now undeniable. Desire resurged, sizzling him inside out and stiffening every inch of his body. He pulled out of her swiftly and propelled himself to his feet, then reached for her. Hoisting her into his arms, he strode towards the villa.
‘Rafe?’
‘Shower. Bed,’ he said briskly. ‘Together. Now.’
‘Oh.’ That kittenish smile widened. ‘Okay.’
But by the time he’d carried her to the master bedroom, his inner alarm bells were back online and ringing hard. The intensity he felt with her wasn’t normal. To have taken her in such a risky location? With such speed?
Lust, he rationalised. Just lust.
But she looked so tousled, still dazed, still innocent even as awareness edged into her eyes. He was suddenly concerned for her. He was not boyfriend material.
‘You understand I don’t do relationships, Gracie,’ he said, carrying her into the large bathroom and setting her on her feet in the shower space.
She leaned against the back wall and looked at him with that wide-open warmth. ‘It was that bad with your parents?’ she asked softly.
She’d been disarmingly honest with him.
‘My mother was fifty-odd years younger than my father,’ he said gruffly, turning to flick on the shower. ‘She was the gold-digger who seduced the senile old man for his money and got pregnant to secure the fortune.’
When he turned back, she was still looking at him solemnly. ‘That’s what people said to you?’
That and far worse. Of course, he was echoing the slurs of others. It was the description of those who’d judged her—and by default how they’d judged him too. ‘It doesn’t matter what they said.’
‘I know how people can bully,’ she said. ‘Of course it matters.’
He’d been able to handle the words. It had been the actions of bullies that had been worse. And the worst bully of all had been his half-brother.
‘And it wasn’t true, was it?’ she said softly. ‘That’s why it hurt, because you couldn’t defend them. She wasn’t a gold-digger, he wasn’t senile.’
‘Well, she definitely wasn’t rich.’ He smiled and turned her so he could soap her back. ‘And he was old.’
‘But they cared about each other?’
‘For what good it did them, yes.’
‘She made him happy.’
‘But the reaction of his older children didn’t,’ he countered. ‘And then they made her life hell.’
‘And, by extension, yours?’
He nodded. ‘After he died, they sent me away to a school as far away as they could find.’ He felt her soften beneath his hands—but he didn’t want her pity.
‘It wasn’t all bad,’ he added roughly. ‘I learned how to be independent. How to survive, how to succeed.’
‘But what happened