The Bride Fonseca Needs(25)

Once she was gone, and the villa had fallen silent around them, Darcy  looked at Max. Within seconds she was in his arms, their mouths fused,  desperation clawing up from somewhere...the deepest, hottest part of  her.

After long, drugging kisses and shedding outer layers they broke apart,  and Max said gutturally, 'I'm not taking you here in the hall.'

Before she could object he'd picked her up in his arms, taken the  stairs two at a time and shouldered his way into his bedroom. Sunlight  streamed in the window and bathed Max in a golden glow. Never more so  than now had he looked so awe-inspiring, and Darcy had to push down the  quiver of self-doubt that he really desired her at all.

He put her on her feet and reached behind him to pull his top over his  head. His chest was bare and right in front of her face. Wide and  muscled. Lean. Dark golden hair dusting the surface.

Darcy wasn't sure if she was breathing-but she was still upright, so  she must be. She reached out a tentative hand and touched him, hearing  his indrawn breath as her nail scraped a nipple.

He cupped her jaw and tipped her chin up. Dark colour slashed his  cheekbones. She could see the question in his eyes and was  surprised-she'd have expected him to take ruthless advantage of her  acquiescence, giving her no time to change her mind.

To stop the rise of dangerous emotions, and before he could say  anything, she put her hand over his mouth. 'I know who you are, I know  who I am, and I know what I want-and that's you.'

She felt shaky. That was about as close as she could get to telling Max  that she was perfectly aware that he'd move on once he'd had her but  she was okay with that. If she didn't want him so badly right now she  might hate herself for grinding her self-respect into the dust.

The question faded from Max's eyes and he put his hands to the bottom  of her top, lifting it up. She raised her arms and it slipped up and  over her head. Next Max pulled free the band holding her hair, so that  it feathered down over her shoulders.

His gaze dropped to the swells of her breasts, encased in lace. 'Bella...' His voice was thick.

Darcy reached around behind her and undid her bra, letting it slip to  the floor. She groaned softly when Max reverently cupped her breasts,  pushing the voluptuous mounds together, rough thumbs making her nipples  spring to attention, tight with need. She'd never felt so grateful for  her curves as she did right then.

Her hands were busy on his jeans, undoing the top button. Warm flesh  and his hard lower belly contracted against her fingers. It was heady to  know she could do this to him.

He'd lowered his head and was exploring her with his hot mouth, his  wicked tongue flicking against her breasts, learning the shape of her  and the way her flesh quivered and tightened at his touch.

Darcy's hands were clumsy as she ripped free buttons and felt the  potent hard bulge of him against her knuckles. Eventually she was able  to push down his jeans over lean hips, but then she had to stop because  Max had one of her nipples between his teeth, teasing it gently before  letting it go to suck the fleeting pain away.

Her legs wouldn't hold her up any more and she fell back onto the bed.  Max stood tall, his chest moving rapidly with his breath. He pushed his  jeans down the rest of the way, and then his briefs, and Darcy's eyes  widened on his impressive erection.

Her mouth watered, and when Max bent over to undo her jeans and pull  them down she lifted her hips to help him. She felt only mounting  impatience as he looked her over with possessive heat, pulling her  panties off to join her jeans on the floor. No teenage crush could have  prepared her for this reality. She felt as if she was burning up from  the inside out as her hungry gaze roved over Max's perfect form, every  muscle hard and honed.                       
       
           



       

A broad chest tapered down to lean hips, where his masculinity was long  and thick, cradled between his strong thighs, long legs. He truly was a  warrior from another time.

The ache between her own legs intensified and she widened them in a  tacit plea, not even really aware of what she was doing, knowing only  that she craved this man deep in her core-now.

Max cursed softly and reached into his bedside console for something.  Protection. He smoothed it onto his length and then came down over  Darcy, an arm under her back, arching her up, mouths fused, tongues  duelling. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and she was arching  into him, begging...

Max pulled away for a second. 'I need you, Darcy... The first time I can't do slow.'

She felt as if she was caught in the grip of something elemental. 'I don't want slow. I need you too-now.'

For an infinitesimal moment everything seemed to be suspended, and then  he thrust into her in one smooth move, so deep that Darcy gasped, and  her back arched at this invasion of her flesh, ready as she was.

Max stopped. 'Dio...have I hurt you? You're so small...'

'No,' said Darcy fiercely, wrapping her legs around him as far as they'd go. 'Don't stop...'

The initial sting of pain was fading. She'd never felt so stretched, so  full. And as Max moved his big body in and out she felt a deep sense of  peace bloom and grow within her even as intense excitement built and  built, until all her muscles were shaking with the effort it took to  hold on against the rising storm.

Max put a hand between them, unerringly finding her centre and touching her there. 'You first, Darcy...then I'll fall...'

Darcy looked deep into his eyes, locked onto them tight as she finally  relinquished her control to this man and fell so hard and so fast that  she blacked out for a moment. She only came back to her dulled senses  when Max's heavy body slumped over hers, their breathing harsh and  ragged in the quiet room.

* * *

When the sky was tinged with the dying rays of the sun outside they  made love again. Slowly, taking the time to learn everything they hadn't  had time to do the first time around. Hands slipped and glided,  squeezed and gripped. Max's fingers explored, feeling the telltale  slickness between Darcy's legs, needing no more encouragement. He  wrapped his hand around the back of Darcy's thigh and lifted it so that  he could deepen his thrust into her body. He groaned with sheer pleasure  that she held him so snugly.

She smoothed back the hair from his forehead, her hands gripping his  shoulders, urging him on. It was a long, slow dance, building and  building to a crescendo that broke over them, taking Max by surprise  with its intensity.

When he had the strength to move he scooped Darcy against his front,  with her knees drawn up so her buttocks were cupped in his lap. Wrapping  his arms tight around her, he felt his mind blank of anything but a  delicious feeling of satisfaction, and slipped into oblivion.

* * *

When Darcy woke it was dark outside. She had no sense of time or space  for a disorientating moment, not recognising the room she was in. And  then she moved, and winced as muscles-intimate muscles-protested.

Max. His big body thrusting so deep that she'd been unable to hold back  a hoarse cry of pleasure... It all rushed back. The desperation of that  first coupling, followed by that lengthy, luxurious exploration. Her  skin felt sensitive, tenderised.

She sat up now, looking around the moonlit room. No sounds from the  bathroom. Moving to the side of the bed, Darcy stood up, wincing  slightly again, and reached for the robe left on the end of the bed.

She opened the door and immediately a mouth-watering smell hit her  nostrils. She followed it instinctively, realising just how hungry she  was as she stumbled to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

Max was stirring something in a pot, humming tunelessly, wearing low slung sweat pants and a T-shirt.

'Hey...' Darcy hovered at the door, feeling ridiculously self-conscious.

Max turned around and looked her over, those dark eyes gleaming with something she couldn't read.

'Ciao.'

Darcy came further in. 'What time is it?'

'About three in the morning. You must be starving.'

There was a very wicked gleam in Max's eyes and Darcy fought back an  urge to poke her tongue out at that and at his far too smug look. She  was ravenous. Not that she'd admit it.

She shrugged a shoulder, feigning nonchalance. 'A little, I guess.'

'Liar,' Max said easily, and came around the kitchen island to scoop  her up against him and kiss away any faux nonchalance for good.

He let her go and walked back around to the pot.                       
       
           



       

Darcy was dizzy. 'What are you cooking?' she managed to get out over  her palpitating heart. That kiss had told her that they were nowhere  near finished with this mutual...whatever it was...

'Pasta with funghi porcini in a creamy white wine sauce.'

Max had dished up the pasta now, into two bowls, and was bringing them  over to a rustic table. He brought over some bread, and a bottle of wine  and two glasses.