She moved against his hand, her eyes shut tight, the muscles in her neck corded, as Isandro suckled at her other breast. Her hips lifted in mute appeal. It wasn’t enough. She wanted him inside her, where she’d dreamt of him on her long lonely nights.
‘Sandro … Sandro!‘
Isandro almost didn’t hear her with the haze of desire that was clouding his brain. She was soft and silky, fragrant, and she felt like paradise on earth. And she was as responsive as he remembered—more unbelievably responsive than any other woman he’d known. That hadn’t changed.
She clutched at his shoulders, twisting her hips away. Her eyes were so dark they looked black. He could see her nipples, wet from his ministrations, and he became even harder in response.
‘No,’ she said breathily. ‘I want you inside me.’
For a moment suspended in time they just looked at each other. And then, breaking the spell, Rowan shifted herself so that she was under him. He lay between her legs. There was no hesitation. Isandro cupped one buttock, felt its peachy firmness. Her legs opened farther and, positioning himself carefully, he entered her. He watched her head go back, the way she sucked in a deep breath as she drew him in, and his head went fuzzy. It was exactly the way she’d taken him before. And he remembered every other time as if it was yesterday, as if it was now. And it was now.
Coming over her properly, taking his weight onto his arms, he started to thrust in and out. Rowan had released her breath and looked up as he’d withdrawn. Now she drew her legs around his waist, and Isandro couldn’t stop his moan of intense pleasure when he felt himself go even deeper. He was buried so far now …
For a long time they rode the wave, eking out the pleasure until the very last moment. Rowan knew she couldn’t prolong it any more. She could feel tremors building, that delicious tightness taking over, building and building. Isandro’s tempo increased, sweat glistening on his skin. The raindrops were long gone—evaporated in the heat of passion—and in one second Rowan’s world erupted around her into a million stars.
She’d hung suspended for a long moment, and now, as she fell, she was hardly aware of Isandro’s own completion. His body jerked and pulsed in the aftermath, still thrusting sporadically, still wringing out the final pleasure, until finally he lay over her, and she held him tightly within her, within her arms.
After a long moment Isandro found the strength to move and release Rowan from him, from his weight. Pulling free of her body caused a yearning, aching feeling to surge up, and to disguise it he got up off the bed and walked into his bathroom to deal with the protection. After he’d done that, he looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom, with the door shut firmly on the woman who lay in the bed just feet away.
The words What the hell just happened? reverberated in his head, but it seemed almost too banal to try and articulate how he felt about what had just happened. All he knew was that one moment he’d been standing in front of her in the pouring rain, asking her what she was doing, and the next … the next she’d been under him, and he’d been sinking into her like a man in a desert starved of water who’d just found an oasis.
He knew what had happened. She had bewitched him. She’d heard him going into his room, she must have, and had gone out there in nothing but a flimsy nightdress in the rain. And she had waited, knowing that he would have heard her door open. Knowing that he would investigate. She’d sensed his vulnerability earlier, and now she had him right where she wanted him. And he … he was completely exposed in his desire for her.
Desire. That was all it was.
He straightened up. He didn’t have to feel exposed, or vulnerable. Since when was desire linked to emotion for him? Since that first night, and now tonight … Isandro brought his fist down onto the side of the sink heavily. No, it wasn’t. He could remember her breathy little please … as if she’d really meant it, as if she’d never even left, walked away. Well, she had.
This was nothing more than what she owed him. At some point during their marriage she’d seemed to change overnight, had turned on the ice queen act. He wasn’t about to let it happen again—at least not until he’d been thoroughly satisfied. And if she thought these cute little moves were going to get her something extra from the divorce, then it would be a fine moment of revenge when she discovered it had all been in vain.
Rowan lay on the bed. She couldn’t move. Aftershocks and little tremors were still pulsing through her body minutes later. Her muscles still clenched minutely. Isandro came out of the bathroom and she turned her head. She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but a little shiver went down her spine. She sensed something ominous in the air.