‘No. This conversation is over, amante,’ he growled. ‘Now, open wider for me.’
Despite his clipped words of warning and the blatantly sexual way he chose to end their conversation, Narciso proceeded to wash her with an almost worshipful gentleness that undid her. When he sank down in front of her and washed between her legs, tears prickled her eyes.
Hell, she was losing her mind. Right from the beginning, she’d primed herself to hate this skilled playboy for his shallow feelings and careless attitude towards women and sex.
Instead she’d discovered that beneath the glossy veneer lurked a wounded soul, hurting from a tortured past.
She wanted to touch him the way he’d touched her. She reached out, but he grasped her hand in his, surged upright and set the showerhead back in its cradle. Beside the expensive gels and lotions a stack of condoms rested. Her heart lurched as she saw him reach for one and tear it open.
Grasping her waist, he whirled her around, then meshed his fingers through hers before raising them to rest above her head.
‘This is the only conversation I want to continue. Are you ready?’ he rasped low in her ear.
His thickness pressed against her bottom. Recalling the pleasure she’d experienced before, she could no more stop herself from answering in the affirmative than she could stop herself from breathing.
He slid slowly into her, leaving her ample time to adjust to his size. Pleasure shot through her, imprisoning her in its merciless talons.
Her groan mingled with his as steam rose around and engulfed them in a cocoon of rough kisses and wet bodies.
Narciso let pleasure wash over him, erasing, if only temporarily, the cutting pain of the past rehashed. The raw agony of recollection eased as he surged deeper into her and, even though he refused to acknowledge that her touch, her warmth and soft words eased his pain, he hung on to the feel of being in her arms.
She rewarded him by crying out as her muscles tightened around him.
Dio mio, she was unbelievable! And she’d got under his skin with minimum effort. But he’d get his control back.
He had to.
Because this unravelling, as much as it soothed the deep wound in his heart, couldn’t continue. For now, though, he intended to lose his mind in the most spectacular way. He slid his hands down her sides, glorying in her supple wet skin. Encircling her tiny waist, he threw his head back and let desire roar through his body.
* * *
She woke to a silent room and a half-cold bed.
Ruby didn’t need a crystal ball to know regret played a part in Narciso’s absence. She felt equally exposed and vulnerable in the light of day at how they’d bared their pasts to each other.
But as much as she wanted to stay hidden beneath the covers, she forced herself to leave Narciso’s bed. Shoving her hand through her hair, she picked up the T-shirt she’d brazenly discarded during her seduction routine. Her ripped-beyond-redemption panties she quickly balled up in her fist.
Luckily, she met no one on the way to her own cabin.
Ten minutes later, and freshly showered, she dressed in white shorts and a sea-green sleeveless top, and opened her door to find a steward waiting outside.
‘Mr Valentino would like you to join him for breakfast on the first deck.’