The movement was a deliberate replay of their time in the limo—only this time she knew she wouldn’t pull back. She would trust herself to Adam completely.
She pushed her fingers into the thick springiness of his hair and lowered her lips onto his.
As if her actions weren’t enough, he growled against her mouth. His lips parted and his tongue touched hers, gently at first, each stroke teasing her, sending a stream of exquisite sensation rollicking through her body.
‘More,’ she breathed. And with a deep groan he gripped her waist and rocked against her. Just like that warmth rushed through her lower abdomen and she wriggled in his lap.
Tilting his head, he deepened his kiss, his hands slipping from her waist to plunge downwards and smooth back up her thighs under the skirt of her dress. She writhed to give him room, and when his fingers curved around her bottom and he kneaded the soft flesh she seized in rapture.
Her whole body was alight—until Adam ended their lip-lock. When he pulled back she gave a mewl of protest.
‘Liv...’ he said, his breathing ragged. ‘You need to decide what’s next. Because soon we’re going to gallop over the line of making out and I won’t be able to stop.’
His gorgeous milk chocolate eyes were dark and dilated with raw, primal need and she tensed inwardly, waiting for the automatic reflex of shame. Adam had managed to stop, to call a halt, whereas she would have kept going without a thought. Out of control.
Not so much as a flicker. Instead she felt heady, exhilarated. As if she could swim the Channel doing the butterfly stroke.
Her lips curved upward as she braced her palms against his chest, felt the pounding of his heart beneath her fingers.
‘Good,’ she whispered. ‘Because I don’t want you to stop.’
In one lithe movement he stood up, and she wrapped her legs around the solidness of his waist, entwined her arms round his neck as he strode towards the sliding door leading back inside the villa.
She pressed her lips against his, desperate for another of his blissful kisses. Their tongues danced, the tempo increasing as they wended their way through the lounge. Olivia was faintly aware of knick-knacks tumbling in their wake as Adam bumped into a laden table.
They entered the bedroom and Adam halted; Olivia slid down his body and stared up at him, senses awhirl.
She stepped backwards, caught a glimpse of her reflection in the ornate gold-framed mirror. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, a fine sheen of desire glistening in her skin.
She wanted him.
A tight knot of anticipation tangled her tummy up as she slipped her dress off so it fell in a tangerine pool to the floor. She stood in front of him. Just her. Olivia Evans. Completely and utterly naked.
Mouth parched, she licked her lips as her throat clogged in sudden vulnerability. ‘Adam...?’
The predatory glint in his eyes as they raked over her said it all. Had more of an effect—she felt hot and squirmy and exultant.
Careful, Olivia. Any beautiful woman standing here would make him react like this.
Really, Liv? You really believe that?
No, she didn’t. Because the point was that it wasn’t any woman standing here. It was her.
‘Liv. You are gorgeous.’
He skimmed the back of his finger along her collarbone, followed the curve of her breast until it reached her tight nipple. One soft caress, one light flick with the pad of his thumb, and an electric flash of heat jolted through her body, turning her legs to jelly.
‘So beautiful,’ he murmured, and for the first time in her life she was glad of it. Wanted to be beautiful, to give pleasure.
‘Tell me what you want,’ Adam rumbled, the dark chocolate of his voice strumming her skin.
And suddenly it was all so simple ‘I want you,’ she said, and buzzed with exhilaration at the sinful smile that curved his lips and lit his eyes. ‘Naked.’
‘That’s easily arranged.’ He crossed his arms, his fingers gripped the bottom edge of his T-shirt and he tugged it over his head.
His chest was perfection: sculpted muscle with a light smattering of hair arrowing down over ripped abs, pointing in a sexy vee towards the ridge in his pants.
‘Keep going,’ she breathed.
‘Patience,’ he admonished in a mock growl, before deftly shucking off his shorts and boxers and kicking them unceremoniously to one side.
Holy Moly. Adam was...magnificent, was one adjective. Bloody enormous would be two.
Mine.
For this night Adam was hers.
Her skin felt taut with a yearning to be touched, but her greedy fingers were more interested in him and she wanted to stroke and caress and explore every inch of his muscular glory.
His chest felt hard under her fingertips, and when she smoothed her palms over his hot skin Adam reciprocated, cupping the weight of her breast in his palm, his thumb circling her nipple. Olivia whimpered for more.