‘Narciso...please...’
One hand splayed over her bottom, squeezed before grabbing the stretchy material of her bikini. He pulled, sending a million stars bursting behind her closed eyelids as the pressure on her heated clitoris intensified her pleasure. At her shocked gasp, he pulled tighter. Liquid heat rushed to fill her sensitive flesh. Almost immediately, she needed more, so much more that her body was threatening to burst out of her skin. She sank her hands into his hair and bit down on the rough skin of his jaw.
He cursed and froze, hard fingers gripping her hips. When the sensation slid from pleasure to a hint of pain, she lifted her head to gaze drowsily at him.
‘What...?’
‘Before this goes any further I need to be sure you want this,’ he rasped.
She looked down, saw her state of undress, saw his hard, ready body.
Instinctively she went to adjust her clothes, her face flushing with heat. ‘God, what’s wrong with me?’
He stopped her agitated movements with steady hands. ‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re a sensual creature, with natural needs just like—’
‘My father?’ she inserted bleakly.
Surprisingly gentle hands framed her face. ‘If you were like him you wouldn’t still be a virgin. Do you get that?’
Tears prickled her eyes. ‘But...I...’
‘No, no more excuses. You stopped being their puppet a long time ago—you just forgot to cut the strings.’
Her breath stalled and her vision blurred. He brushed away her tears and she fought to speak. ‘What does that say about me?’
His jaw clenched. ‘That we sometimes spend too much time looking in the rear-view mirror to see what’s ahead.’
She moved on top of him because, despite everything going south, her hunger hadn’t abated one iota. His hands clamped down harder on her hips.
‘What’s in your rear-view mirror?’ she asked him softly.
‘Too much. Much too much.’
His answer held a depth of anguish that cut to her soul. Heart aching for him, she started to lean down but he caught and held her still.
‘No.’
She looked into his face and saw his slightly ashen pallor. ‘You don’t want me to kiss you?’
His chest heaved and he glanced away.
The realisation hit her like a bolt of lightning. ‘You stopped us making love on the plane and just now because you don’t think you’re worth it, do you? Why not? Because your father told you you weren’t?’
‘Ruby, stop,’ he warned.
She ignored him, the need to offer comfort bleeding through her. She caressed his taut cheek. A pulse beat so hard in his jaw, her fingers tingled from the contact.
‘Cara, I’m a man on the edge. A man who wants what he shouldn’t have. Get off me before I do something we’ll both regret, per favore.’
Fresh tears prickled her eyes, stung the back of her throat.
If anyone had told her a week ago she’d be lying on top of the world’s most notorious playboy, baring her soul to him and catching a glimpse of his ragged soul in return, she’d have called them insane.
Her hands shook as she slowly removed them from his face. Levering herself away from him was equally hard because her knees rebelled at supporting her in her weakened state.
Snatching at her bikini top, desperately trying to ignore his silent scrutiny, she tied the strings as best she could and secured the sarong over her chest.
Her hair was an unruly mess she didn’t bother to tackle. What had just happened had gone beyond outer appearances.
She looked down at him and he returned her look, the torture unveiled now. She floundered, torn between helping him and fleeing to examine her own confused emotions. Eventually, she chose the latter. ‘I have a few things to take care of in the kitchen before I go to bed. Bona notti.’
Slowly, he rose to tower over her, and in the fading daylight she saw his bunched fists at his sides.
His smile was cut from rough stone. ‘I’ve awakened too many demons for me to have a restful night, tesoro. But I wish you a good night all the same.’
* * *
I’ve awakened too many demons...
Ruby lay in bed a few hours later, wracked with guilt.
She’d pushed him to relive his past, to rake over old wounds because she’d wanted to know the real man underneath the gloss.
To reassure herself he wouldn’t hurt or betray her?
Shame coiled through her as she acknowledged that she’d been testing him. But then deep down, ever since he’d turned away from her on the plane, she’d known Narciso was nothing like her father. Or Simon.
And still she’d pushed...
She reared up and gripped the side of her bed. Her head cautioned her against the need to find out if she’d pushed him too far, if the demons were indeed keeping him awake. But her heart propelled her to her feet.