‘I told you,’ he cut across her, ‘it would have been an invitation for people to rifle through our lives like they’re some kind of public property.’
Surprisingly, Anouk was beginning to realise just how protective both Sol, and particularly Malachi, were about their private lives.
Who would have thought it?
But she couldn’t ask anything more, she didn’t dare. Not after he’d effectively shut down that line of conversation. And still, his gaze held hers and she couldn’t move. He might not have told her a lot, but, given his driving need for privacy, she felt as though he’d told her more than she could have hoped he would.
As though she was significant.
‘Did you know that ridiculous pudding hat of yours was on inside out?’ he told her, lifting it gently and turning it right side out before lowering it back on her head. Infinitely tender, infinitely thrilling.
She waited, pinned to the spot, as he released her hat and cupped her face instead, like a blast of heat in the cold winter air.
‘Sol?’ she breathed, when neither of them had moved and it was clear that neither of them was going to move.
Still, they both remained motionless. And then, just when Anouk had finished telling herself that she had to be the one to step back, to break the contact, however much she railed against it, he bent his head and brushed her lips with his.
It ignited a fire in an instant, sending the surrounding people, the coffee shop, the entire street, reeling into the background.
With a low moan, she stepped towards him, her arms raised to grab his jacket with her hands. Whether she deepened the kiss or Sol did, it hardly mattered.
His mouth was hot and demanding, his taste every bit as exhilarating as she remembered. It confirmed the one truth she’d suspected since the gala ball—one night with him hadn’t been enough. She wanted more. She needed more.
He kissed her with ruinous skill, turning her inside out and upside down. He plundered and claimed, teasing her with his lips, his tongue, his teeth; he pulled her body to him until she was sure she could feel every last muscled ridge of that washboard body that had stamped itself so indelibly in her mind, and he made a low sound as he kissed her as if, like her, he needed more.
And she was lost. As enchanted by the man as every other woman before her had been.
She who should know better.
‘My place?’ he broke contact long enough to mutter.
Anouk didn’t even try to speak, she just nodded.
* * *
They barely even made it through the door of his apartment before they were undressing each other.
Sol’s touch was fire over every millimetre of her skin, smouldering over her wherever he trailed those expert fingers of his. Setting her ablaze every time he lowered his head, and that skilful mouth, to brand her somewhere new.
Her neck, her shoulder, the rise of her breast. One hand laced itself through her hair, cupping the nape of her neck and making her feel cherished and precious, whilst the other hand played a wicked concerto on her body as if it were the most exquisite instrument.
And with every accomplished stroke the fire inside her grew hotter and brighter, until it was too painful to look at. And so Anouk closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sheer beauty of it. She was singing in her head, arias she had never known before. Certainly not like this.
Again and again Sol moved his fingers, his hand, his mouth, over her body, testing her and tasting her. Paying homage to every inch of her, he supported her neck with one hand while the other skimmed over her back and then spanned the hollow at the base of her spine with enviably long, strong fingers, making her feel infinitely delicate.
He took his time, as though they were in no rush. As though there was no end goal, trailing his fingers up one side and down again, leaving shivers of delight in his wake.
Up and down.
Up again, and down again.
Pleasing and punishing her, until every molecule of her pulsed with burning, intense need. All she could do was respond to him. As if she’d been waiting for this moment for ever. As if she were his to command.
As if she were his.
Time stood still for Anouk. She stayed there in his arms, letting all this desire swirl around, and move through her as Sol branded her with every touch, leaving her feeling as though she would never be the same again.
This is his skill, a tiny voice urged silently in her head. He makes you feel special, unique,