The Bride Fonseca Needs

After finishing her pasta, Darcy took a long luxurious sip of wine and asked idly, ‘So what was the other part of the surprise that we missed today?’

Max sat back, cradling his own glass of wine, and smirked at her. ‘I don’t think you deserve to know.’

Darcy dipped her fingers in her water glass and flicked some at him. ‘That’s so unfair.’ She mock pouted. ‘I put out before you even had to go through with it.’

Max gave her a considering look full of mischief. ‘That’s true. If I’d known how easy it would be—’

Now Darcy scooped up a much larger handful of water and threw it at him. An incredible lightness infused her as Max put down his glass and smiled devilishly at her. He still managed to look gorgeous, even as water dripped down his face and onto his chest.

He picked up his own glass of water and looked at her explicitly.

She gasped and got up from her chair, inching away from him. ‘You wouldn’t dare...’

But he would. Of course he would.

Max stood up and advanced on her as Darcy fled behind the kitchen island.

‘Max, stop—we’re adults, and this isn’t our kitchen.’ She was attempting to sound reasonable, but the breathiness in her voice gave her away.

He raised a brow. ‘It’s only water, Darcy. Now, come here like a good girl. You can’t tease me and expect to get away with it.’

Darcy crept around the island as Max followed her and eyed where the door was. When she made her move, feinting left before going towards the door, Max caught her with pathetic ease, grabbing her robe and pulling her into him.

He captured her hands with one of his and pulled her up against him. She caught fire. He was walking her backwards towards the huge table, and illicit excitement leapt in Darcy’s blood. She didn’t play like this. And she suspected Max didn’t either. It was heady.

The back of the table hit her buttocks and Max nudged her until she was sitting on it. He still held the full glass of water over her and he said in a rough voice, ‘Open your robe.’

A sliver of self-consciousness pricked her. ‘Max...’ she said weakly.

‘Open it, Darcy, or I’ll open it for you.’

With far less reluctance than she should have been feeling Darcy undid the tie on her robe and it fell open, exposing her upper body. Max smiled, and it was wicked. His eyes had turned dark and golden.

Darcy felt so hot she feared bursting into flames there and then. It was hard to breathe.

Very slowly and deliberately he tipped the glass over her, until a small stream of icy water trickled down over her chest and breasts. She gasped and tensed, and was almost surprised when the water didn’t hiss on contact with her hot skin.

Her nipples pebbled into tight peaks under Max’s torturously slow administration, and when she was thoroughly drenched, with water running down over her belly and between her legs to where she was hottest of all, he put down the glass and pushed her robe back further, baring her completely.

He braced himself with his hands either side of her body, holding the robe back, keeping her captive. His gaze devoured her and he bent and dipped his head, his hot tongue a startling contrast to the cold water on her skin as he teased and tormented her breasts, tasting them and sucking each hard tip into his mouth until Darcy cried out and begged him to stop.

He lifted his head and smiled the smile of a master sorceror. ‘We haven’t even started, dolcezza... Lie back on the table.’

Unable to stay upright anyway, Darcy sank back and felt Max’s big body push her legs wide, coming between them, baring her to him utterly.

He pressed kisses down her body, over the soft swell of her belly, and his big hands kept her open to him as his mouth descended between her legs and he found the scorching centre of her being. He stroked and licked her with sinful precision, until her hands were clasped in his hair and she was bucking uncontrollably into his mouth...

Later, when they’d made it back to the bedroom, they made love again. And again.

Darcy lifted her head from Max’s chest and asked sleepily, ‘So, will you tell me now?’

Max huffed a small chuckle. ‘I should have known you wouldn’t forget.’

Darcy rested her chin on her hand and said, ‘Well...?’

Max shifted then, and she could tell he was mildly uncomfortable. But he said, ‘I had arranged to take you to Venice... We were going to do a gondola ride and stay the night in a hotel on the Grand Canal.’

He lifted his head then, and looked at her with an endearingly rueful expression—very unMax-like.