‘Again?’ he suggested in a low growl.
She had no chance to do anything but cry out, ‘Yes!’ Dante’s fingers were magic and he knew just what to do. Grinding her body frantically against the heel of his hand, she claimed her second powerful release. He silenced her panting and groaning with a kiss that was as deep as it was tender.
She loved the way he held her buttocks firmly in place with one hand as he pleasured her with the other. ‘Are you going to be as greedy as this all night?’ he teased in a deep, husky tone as he loomed over her, swarthy and dangerous, and so impossibly sexy.
‘You made me insatiable,’ she said, marvelling at how gentle he could be, how persuasive. She was half his size and Dante treated her as if she were made of rice paper, which was frustrating but also reassuring.
‘I want to taste you,’ he growled, moving down the bed.
She laughed softly. ‘Do I have a say in this?’
‘No.’ Lifting her legs onto his shoulders, Dante dipped his head.
She thought she knew pleasure? She was wrong. This was pleasure. This was something beyond anything else.
‘I can’t,’ she protested, speaking her thoughts out loud. ‘Not again.’
‘Is that a fact?’ Dante queried with a wicked look, pausing.
His tongue, his mouth and fingers continued to work their magic. This time the pleasure waves were so strong she was tossed about on a wild tide of sensation that stole away every thought except one: could she remain suspended in Dante’s erotic net for ever?
* * *
Jess...
Holding himself back was the biggest test he’d ever faced. Jess took even longer to recover and when she did her eyes were heavy. She wasn’t just tired; she was exhausted. It had been a long day, with the shock of seeing him and the rescue of the sheep. Then she’d gone on to cater a meal for who knew how many before allowing herself downtime. Who wouldn’t be exhausted? Taking her now would be taking advantage. She was sleepily sexy but her conscious mind was taking a well-earned breath. He’d waited a long time to make love to Jess and when it happened he aimed for special, not something to tag to a long, draining day.
‘You’re smiling,’ she commented drowsily.
Because he wasn’t used to waiting, but Jess was different.
‘Well?’ she prompted softly, reaching out. ‘Are you going to explain?’
Turning off the light, he drew her into his arms.
‘Are you asleep?’ she asked when some quiet time had passed. ‘Do you regret this?’
‘No.’
‘Then...?’
‘You’re tired,’ he murmured.
‘I’m not,’ Jess protested.
‘Exhausted, then.’
‘I do need a hug,’ she admitted.
To reassure her, he tightened his grip.
‘I don’t want you to think I’m having second thoughts,’ she whispered.
It was obvious she wanted to talk. Releasing her, he sat up beside her. ‘Talk to me,’ he encouraged her gently.
‘About loss and grief and duty, and how there’s never enough time to mull over those things?’
‘There hasn’t been a right time for either of us, I’m guessing,’ he admitted, raking his hair.
‘Stop distracting me,’ she scolded, smiling, ‘or we’re wasting another chance to talk it out.’
‘I’m not even sure we should be talking about it now, when you so clearly need to sleep.’
Searching his eyes, she explained, ‘I need to talk first and then sleep.’
‘Go ahead,’ he said softly, waiting.
‘I didn’t cry when my mother died,’ Jess eventually revealed in a small voice, as if she still felt guilty about it. But then, remembering his loss, she reverted to her customary warm, concerned self. ‘I don’t expect you showed any emotion either when you lost your parents.’
‘Oh, I was angry,’ he confessed, thinking back. ‘When I arrived at the hospital one of the doctors told me, “Where there’s life there’s hope.”’
‘And of course you desperately hoped he was right and believed him.’ Her eyes were in that moment as she stared into his.
‘There was no hope,’ he confirmed flatly. ‘My parents were already dead, as I discovered when I barged into the room where they had been treated.’
‘You were how old?’
‘Old enough to know better—seventeen or eighteen. I’ve found it hard to trust anyone outside my inner circle since that day.’
‘And who could blame you?’
‘Not you, apparently,’ he remarked as he stared into Jess’s eyes. ‘So, what’s your excuse for being so bottled-up?’
‘Events,’ she said succinctly in the way people did when there was a world of trouble hidden behind a single word.
‘Tell me about those events,’ he said gently. ‘The grief you hid I know about, so I’m guessing we’re talking about your father.’
She was silent for a while and then confessed, ‘He was such a proud man...’
‘Was?’ he prompted.
‘You must remember...’ Her eyes were big and wounded.
‘I do. Everyone’s brought low by grief, so I’m guessing your father took some time to pull through.’
‘It wasn’t easy for him.’
‘Or for you,’ he observed quietly.
‘Don’t they say love makes anything possible?’
She looked so sad as she asked the question. His imagination could fill in the blanks for now. Jess wasn’t ready to tell him the detail. Maybe she never would be. She was right about her father being a proud man, and Jess was as protective of family as he was. It was up to her to decide if and when and how much she told him.
‘I trust you,’ she admitted before falling into a thoughtful silence. ‘I know you won’t say anything to harm my father’s reputation,’ she added at last, staring into his eyes, unblinking.
‘Never,’ he pledged.
He let the silence hang until Jess was ready to continue. ‘I built my adult life on the promises I made to my mother, which were to continue my education and to qualify so I could earn a living and look after my father and the farm. That didn’t leave much time to mourn my mother’s loss, but it was a relief to be busy because the alternative was to sink into grief and achieve nothing, which would have betrayed her trust.’
‘We all need time to mourn.’
‘Says you,’ she rebuked him with a sad smile.
‘Let’s build on the past and remember those we loved happily, positively, knowing that’s what they’d want us to do.’
‘You always find a way to make me smile,’ she observed thoughtfully.
‘Do you want to punish me for that?’
‘Do you want to be punished?’
His smile darkened. ‘Not for that.’
Her gaze flew to the rumpled bed. ‘You spoiled me for other men ten years ago.’
‘That kiss in your father’s stable?’
‘That was just the start,’ she admitted. ‘And now you’ve spoiled me all over again.’
‘Don’t expect me to apologise.’
When he fell silent she asked, ‘Dante, is something wrong?’
This was not the right time to explain what was happening with the farm. ‘No. There’s nothing wrong. We’ll talk again in the morning.’
‘Promise?’ she asked softly.