She winced inwardly, her lovely moment shattered by her own bad timing and Luc's carelessly callous comment. No more pretending. This wasn't a honeymoon. This was sex for the sake of scratching an itch. No use dressing it up with romantic frills.
No reason for tears to sting her eyes and a painful lump to clog her throat.
She swallowed, her mouth dry. "I want to take a shower."
Luc pounced verbally. "No, Hattie. I don't think so."
He hardly noticed that she didn't answer. He'd been kicked in the gut and was left reeling. The sweat was barely dry on their bodies and she was already talking about leaving him. Damn it to hell. He would be the one to end this relationship … not Hattie.
He was hard as a pike, his erection painfully stiff. With jerky motions, he ripped open a packet and rolled on a rubber. A split second later he groaned aloud as he penetrated Hattie's tight, wet warmth. She lay passive beneath him, and it pissed him off.
He took her chin in his hand. "Look at me, Mrs. Cavallo." She obeyed. He had to grit his teeth to keep from coming right then. "What we do in the privacy of our bed is our own business. We're good together. Don't fight it. Don't fight me. Let yourself go, Hattie."
Big brown eyes looked up at him with a mixture of emotions he couldn't decipher even if he wasn't being driven by his baser needs. She whispered the single word. "Okay."
It was enough. He felt her hands touch his hips, recognized the moment when she arched her back and matched her rhythm to his. A red haze clouded his vision. His hips pistoned in agonized yearning for release. It was good … so good.
Hattie gave a small shocked cry as he felt her inner muscles squeeze him. Her release triggered his, and he bore down, losing himself in her welcome embrace and finding momentary oblivion.
Sometime later, sanity returned. He could hear his own jerky breathing in the silence of the room. Hattie was still and quiet again. Had he hurt her? He moved aside with a muttered apology, relieving her of his considerable weight.
Sweet mother of God. He hadn't had sex that good in he didn't know when. Oh, yes, you do. It was back in college when Hattie was warm and willing and you were both blissfully happy.
He shook off the memories. No need for those when he had the real thing in his arms. What was she thinking? He was too tired to pry it out of her. He'd barely slept the night before.
His eyes closed involuntarily.
Aeons later it seemed, he felt her try to escape. His fingers closed around her wrist. "Stay."
"I need a shower."
He scrubbed his hands over his face, yawning, his head muzzy. "I'll join you."
The look on her face made him laugh as he got to his feet. "Don't be so modest. It's the green thing to do."
After turning the water to a comfortable temperature, he dragged a clearly reluctant Hattie into the luxurious shower enclosure. His lovely new wife huddled in a tiled corner, her arms wrapped around her waist.
Everything about her screamed innocent seduction … from her long slender legs to her hourglass waist, to her plump, shapely breasts. If he could paint, he'd commit her to canvas exactly like this.
He picked up a bar of soap shaped like a shell. "Turn around."
Hattie was drowning in her own need. In her wildest imagination she had never invented a scenario like this. "Why?" she muttered.
His grin was lethal. "I thought you wanted to get clean."
"You're a dirty old man."
"Not old," he deadpanned.
She gave him her back reluctantly, hyperaware that she was at his sexual mercy. The first touch of the washcloth made her jump. But it was Luc's chuckle that made her blush.
As he washed from her neck down her spine, she braced her hands on the wall and hung her head. Luc had turned the spray so that it cascaded between them. The water was cool on Hattie's hot skin.
Luc moved the rag slowly, more of a massage than a simple exercise in cleanliness. He reached her bottom and squeezed. "Turn around."
She obeyed instinctively, their gazes colliding amidst the steamy air. "I can do the rest," she said.
He shook his head. "Why bother? I'm off to a hell of a good start." He took her hands and tucked them behind her butt. "Don't move."
The hot water was enervating, draining Hattie of any will to challenge Luc's control. This time he made no pretense of using the washcloth. He took the bar of soap and ran it in circles around her breasts. Then he pressed gently over her nipples, decorating them with tiny bubbles.
When he was satisfied, he paused to kiss her … slow and deep. With one hand, he manacled her wrists behind her back with a firm grip. Now their bodies were touching chest to chest. She felt his erection throbbing between them.
He nuzzled her nose with his and ground his hips into hers. "More work to do," he muttered.
His hand holding the soap found its way south to the middle of her thighs. Her legs parted instinctively to give him access.
When the soap glided over a certain sensitive spot, Hattie cried out and struggled. But Luc kept his tight hold on her wrists as he moved the soap between her legs.
Hattie rested her forehead on his chest, panting. "Enough," she whispered. "I'm clean." She was close to the edge, but she didn't want to make the journey alone. She wanted Luc inside her, filling her, making her his.
Without warning, he dropped the soap and released her wrists. The shower boasted a roomy stone seat. Luc reached for the condom he'd tucked on a ledge, sheathed himself, and then pulled Hattie down to sit astride his lap.
Their bodies were slick and wet, and the moment when they joined was seamless … easy. Hattie threw back her head, the water still streaming over them. Her eyes were closed, intensifying the sensation of having Luc inside her.
He was strong. He lifted her up and down in a gentle rhythm, teasing them both.
Longing crescendoed, hunger peaked. Luc's hands bruised her bare butt as he gave a muffled shout and found his release. Hattie still lingered on the knife edge of pleasure. She could stay there forever.
Luc bit her neck, ran his tongue over her tightly furled nipples. It was enough. It was too much. She arched her back and gave a choked sob as everything inside her splintered and fanned out through her veins in cascading ripples of pure joy.
Afterward, she was weak as a baby. Luc dried her tenderly and scooped her up in his arms to carry her to their bed. Hattie had lost all sense of time. And didn't really care.
Luc muttered an apology as he slid beneath the covers and moved over her and into her. She had nothing left, but this coupling was warm and lazy. He rode her forever, it seemed, pausing each time he came close to the end and making himself wait, stretching out the incredible connection, the deep, undulating eroticism.
He enveloped her, overwhelmed her. His scent, his touch, his powerful domination.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her consciousness lingered the knowledge that she would have to pay for this day. That down the line her heart would face pain equal to the present elation.
But she refused to let such maudlin considerations ruin the present.
She put a hand to his cheek, loving him with her eyes. "You're amazing," she whispered. "I haven't felt like this in a very long time."
His cheeks were ruddy, his eyes hooded, his chin shadowed with late-day stubble. Everything about him reeked of uncivilized, ravenous male. Little was left of the suave businessman, the wealthy CEO.
And Hattie loved it … loved him. God help her, she did. This was a man she could live with … share a life with.
But the other Luc still existed outside this room. And that was the problem. Just as it had always been.
He groaned and his whole body shook as his mighty control finally snapped. "Hattie … " He climaxed in a series of long, rapid thrusts.
Despite her exhaustion, echoes of pleasure teased her once again.
In the aftermath, they slept. And as the tropical sun sank low in the sky, coaxing the stars out to play in the gathering dusk, Mr. and Mrs. Luc Cavallo were in perfect accord for one fleeting moment.
Thirteen
Luc rolled over and looked at the clock sometime around 9:00 p.m. His stomach was growling, and no wonder. Their late brunch was the last meal he had eaten.