“But?”
“I don’t want to answer to someone until I can afford not to. My business might be small, but I’m the boss.” Maybe she should have phrased that with a bit more diplomacy. No sense in burning bridges when she hadn’t even managed to build one yet.
He stared at her for a few seconds. And a few more until Sabrina felt like jamming his sunglasses down on the bridge of his nose. Then his beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips pulled up in a grudging smile. For the first time, Sabrina saw a glimmer of respect in them.
“Come,” he said, extending a hand. “It’s time we got back to the yacht. They have prepared lunch for us. Unless you want to have a swim first? You’re the boss,” he teased.
“I’m good,” she countered, suppressing her grin.
She hadn’t swum with her contacts on, and Sabrina had heard horror stories of people getting an eye infection after a swim, so she didn’t want to risk it. She took his hand and decided going back with him to the yacht involved a bigger risk. The more time she spent with Luca, the more she liked him. She could not forget the other compelling reason she was with him–meeting the Konstantinos.
Chapter 11
Lunch consisted of a selection of gourmet panini sandwiches, cold cuts, pasta salad, and a selection of wines, all laid out al fresco on the exterior of the second deck of the yacht.
There was no staff to serve them. Luca didn’t want anyone hovering, witnessing the indecent haste by which they finished their meal.
“I’ll give you the grand tour,” he said, pulling her to her feet. She smelled different, not the shampoo smell he had associated with her. “You smell like coconuts,” he murmured into the crook of her neck.
She tilted her head back, giving him a wider angle to nuzzle her skin. “It’s the sunscreen.”
“Everything smells good on you.”
He felt her smile by the way the skin on her neck pulled and tightened. He wanted to taste her, run his tongue on that patch of skin…fuck!
The bitterness grated on his tongue and he made an incoherent sound of disgust.
“You licked the sunscreen off my neck.” The witch had the audacity to laugh at his predicament.
“You’re laughing now,” he rumbled, “but you won’t be later when I’m done with you.” He tugged on her hand.
“Where are you taking me?” she gasped as he flung them inside a stateroom, dragging her across the width of the carpeted floor.
“In you go,” he said, opening the door of the bath at the end of the room. He made short work of her clothes, allowing her no chance to protest, and pushed her inside the glass enclosure. He turned on the handheld showerhead and squeezed a dollop of shower gel on his hand. “I’m going to wash off every last drop of that blasted sunscreen until every spot,” he touched a spot, “and every crevice,” he delved inside a crevice as she sputtered, “I don’t put sunscreen there,” “is squeaky clean.”
She squeaked, then moaned then whimpered under his ministrations. Luca dropped the showerhead, chucked off his shirt, and flattened her against the tiled wall. Her arms snaked around his neck, her breasts slippery globes against his chest.
He reached down between them to undo the button of his board shorts. It fell with a wet plop on the floor. He kicked them out of the way, bent, and grasped her thighs, the sight of her bare and wet making preliminaries impossible.
Bare. Uncovered. Unprotected.
Cazzo! He was about to take her without gloving up. He suddenly felt chilled by the way she made him forget about being responsible. He wrapped her legs tight against his waist, banged open the glass cubicle, and set her roughly on the marble countertop, knocking soap dispensers and lotion bottles in his search for a condom. Grazie a Dio! He grabbed all the available foil packets, hoisted her up against him, and fell to the huge bed, dumping the packets uncaringly on the surface.
His fingers were shaking until finally he was ready. With one smooth thrust, he was inside her. This time it was fast and furious. As if they had to make up for hours that were lost on the beach. The bed thumped, and dimly he realized Chiara would have his head if he broke it days before the fundraising party.
Her chest had that lovely flush that signaled she was near. With a throaty cry she came, and within seconds Luca spilled himself.
He had promised her a grand tour, and he was one who kept his promises. After sufficient recovery time, he pulled her out of bed, wrapped her in a bathrobe, and commenced with the tour. He did her in the gym and on that new couch in the salon. She reciprocated in the media room, speading herself enticingly on the conference desk They did it on the uppermost deck while she clutched the railing and he took her from behind.