clouded with delicious arousal, she played in his hair with her fingers as he buried his dark head at her breast.
He sucked hard, and her pulse and breathing quickened. She squirmed on the table. Naldo dove lower, mouthing her belly, running his big hands over her thighs.
The sensations he triggered inside her felt so good. Pure pleasure, flowing over her skin and along her limbs. A feeling of being treasured, cared for, loved.
He doesn’t love you. The thought stabbed her like a shard of memory.
A relationship of convenience. How he’d described the match between his father and her mother.
He was lonely, she was here.
At that moment he tugged at her shorts and panties and dove inside, pushing his face to her crotch. His tongue tickled her aroused flesh as he explored the moist heat. He sucked hungrily, his hands now pressed into her thighs, pushing them against the metal table edge.
An intense expression contorted his handsome features. His eyes squeezed shut, his hair hanging damp on his forehead, he looked totally absorbed.
In her.
She shuddered as his tongue flicked over her sensitive flesh, overwhelmed by sensations that jumbled her thoughts and shook her to the core.
Naldo pulled back and his eyes met hers. His dark gaze, serious, penetrating-demanding-called to something deep inside her.
Wordless, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her gently off the table. He cradled her as he carried her up the narrow staircase into the bedroom where she’d slept last night.
He lowered her carefully onto the bed and she pulled him to her. She tugged his buttons through the holes in the soft linen, reaching for the warm skin beneath, then shoved his shirt back over his shoulders as the soothing weight of his chest sank into her.
His teeth grazed her neck, then he layered soft kisses over her cheeks and onto her parted lips. He didn’t stop kissing, the pressure more urgent, as he fumbled with his zipper and shoved his jeans down.
Excitement built inside her as she helped him ease the stiff fabric over his powerful thighs. He had to pull back to step out of his jeans, and the shock of cool air on her face and chest made her open her eyes. The sight of Naldo-naked-made her catch her breath.
Thick muscle, tan skin accented with sworls of black hair, that arrogant, handsome face-everything about him was riveting male perfection.
His expression focused, he eased her shorts and panties off. Without missing a beat, he pulled a condom seemingly out of thin air and rolled it on. Her belly quivered at the sight of him, hard and eager, yet controlled.
With his thumb and finger he lifted her chin and raised her face to his scorching black gaze.
“Anna,” was all he said before he caught her mouth in a kiss and lowered his big body onto hers.
Slow, restrained and quivering with arousal, he slid deep inside her. She writhed, unable to control a moan of intense pleasure as he filled her.
The delicious masculine weight of him pinned her to the soft mattress. Raw excitement surged through her and she wriggled under him, wanting to be free, and not wanting to be free at all.
Naldo’s low groans and heady male scent filled her senses. His hands cupped her face and he kissed her, softly, on the lips, then harder, forceful, as he pushed into her.
She raised her hips to his, jousting with him, pushing into him and drawing back, teasing and tantalizing, building a rhythm that pounded through them both with feverish intensity.
She wrapped her arms tight around his back and gripped him, as unfamiliar emotions and sensations spiked inside her. She sensed her climax coming-a stark, loaded calm like the tide drawing far out to sea before a tsunami-before it exploded over her as his name flew from her mouth.
“Naldo.” The single word pierced the predawn silence as Naldo let out a shout and joined her in a fierce climax of his own.
They lay there locked together, panting, sweat mingling. Naldo’s hard-edged cheek on hers, his hands cupping her face, fingers tangled into her hair. His big, heavy body trapped her in a prison of pleasure as he throbbed inside her.
Skin to skin, his heart beating fast and hard against hers, they held each other tight.
It felt so right.
The culmination of a million childish fantasies with nothing childish about it. A haunting, sleep-stealing dream come true.
She and Naldo in each other’s arms.
His face nuzzled hers, long black lashes still closed over those intense dark eyes. His breath, warm and sweet on her skin, seemed to breathe new life into her and she felt stronger than she had in months. Years.
Ever.
Naldo shifted to one side and eased his weight off her. A smile slid across his sensual mouth as he kissed her cheek. With one broad hand he eased them both onto their sides, still inside her, and held her close.
His thumb brushed a stray lock of hair off her cheek. The thick lashes lifted and the look he gave her-naked admiration-made her face heat.
“Love all,” he murmured.
Her breath caught in her throat. Love? What was he talking about? Her pulse picked up speed. “What?” she managed to ask.
“Tennis. The way you played it-fierce, wild yet controlled. Every game a fight to the death.” A dimple appeared beside his wicked smile. “Your passion isn’t reserved for the courts.”
She stared at him for a moment. He meant “love,” as in tennis scoring, not the pledge-my-heart-for-all-time kind.
A shard of disappointment undercut her relief. “I haven’t played in a while.”
One black eyebrow lifted.
“Tennis, I mean,” she blurted.
“Ah.” His eyes twinkled. He knew exactly what she meant. “But something tells me you’re still on top of your game. Maybe we’ll have a chance to play again before you go?” He turned away to remove the condom.
Before you go. His words stung her. A reminder that this heavenly intimacy was very temporary. Probably the only reason he’d allowed it to happen was because he knew she’d soon be far away. No danger of her making pathetic assumptions about any kind of future between them.
“What’s the matter?” He settled back into bed, a line between his dark brows.
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Then sleep. I’m tired, too.” He laid his head on the pillow next to hers, his black hair and tan skin a rich contrast to the pale floral pillowcase.
His long fingers stroked a strand of hair from her face before settling at her waist. Relaxed and comfortable, as if they’d done this a hundred times.
As if they were a real couple.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to be taunted by the blissful vision of Naldo sharing a bed with her. It felt good, she couldn’t deny it. She’d been through the wringer lately, so what harm could come of enjoying one night that seemed like a dream?
Naldo’s big arm weighed her down with soothing pressure, and she soon found herself floating in a sea of bliss. Her body hummed with sensation, a blend of erotic pleasure and warm relaxation, as she drifted into much-needed sleep.
In the morning, a dent in the pillow was the only sign of Naldo. Anna blinked against the harsh sunlight pouring between the open curtains. Was it a dream?
No. The scent of him lingered on the pillow and she pressed her face into it, enjoying the heady male fragrance.
He must have left early. Probably had estate business to attend to. If he left a note it would likely be downstairs, on the heart-shaped phone pad. But then Naldo was hardly the note-leaving type.
She exhaled, traces of pleasure mingling with trickles of apprehension. What would happen next? Would they get together again?
A scratching sound made her glance up at the old plaster ceiling. They never had been able to get rid of those
