And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it from happening.
We faked our way through the rest of the evening.
Thankfully, the rest of the evening was just coffee and desserts, and as soon as Natalie’s mug was empty, I’d been able to feign exhaustion and get us the hell out of there without any other incident.
We didn’t speak on the walk back down to the cottage. I didn’t try to apologize for shutting her out earlier—what was the point when she clearly didn’t want to listen to me?—and she didn’t lay into me over our confrontation in Marco and Fee’s kitchen.
When she stalked into the bedroom and slammed the door in her wake, I let her go without a word, telling myself instead of trying to fix things, it was time to just let them be.
Darkness surrounded me as I reclined on the sofa hours later, wishing like hell I could fall asleep. My mind was filled with too many thoughts and images to turn off, though. And I couldn’t stop picturing Natalie in that big bed in the other room, wondering like hell if she was awake or asleep, trying not to think about those nights we’d spent together in Rome and Venice.
Had that been only a few short weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime. We’d spent more time at war with each other since then than we had in each other’s arms. Maybe what we’d shared hadn’t been all that meaningful. Could you really fall in love with someone in such a short amount of time?
The creak of door hinges sounded in the silence, stopping my spinning brain.
I held still—hands tucked behind my head on the pillow, one leg stretched out on the cushions, the other bent with my knee resting against the back of the couch—curious as to why Natalie was up, not wanting to do anything to set her off and restart World War Three.
Footsteps echoed on the tile floor, then quieted when she reached the carpet. I still didn’t move, but instead of passing me by for the kitchen as I expected, she slowed near the couch and stilled at my side.
Her curly hair fell down her shoulders. She was dressed in thin cotton sleep shorts and a ribbed tank that molded to her curves and showed off her pert nipples and rounded breasts.
She didn’t speak, didn’t move, but I could hear the steady push and pull of her breath. And I could smell her—that exotic and hypnotizing scent of grapefruit and honey I would always associate with her and which had the power to scramble what was left of my brain.
Silence stretched over the room, the only sound my thumping pulse growing louder in my ears. My eyes were open. She had to know I was awake. Since I hadn’t wanted to bother her, I hadn’t changed clothes. I’d only stripped and stretched out on the couch in my boxers. I didn’t even have a blanket—not that I needed one. I was still fired up from our argument earlier and growing hotter by the second as she stared down at me in the dark.
Blood gathered in my groin with every second that passed. I could feel myself growing hard even though I willed my dick not to respond. Knew in a second she was going to see it for herself. Knew also that when she did, it would do nothing to help our current dilemma.
Swallowing hard, I tried to think of something to say before that happened. For a way to distract her so I could figure out why she was out here in the dead of night. Hell, at this point, I’d even settle for her lashing out at me if it would prevent me from fucking up all over ag—
She moved before I realized what she was doing. One second, she was standing beside me, intimidating the fuck out of me with her silence in the dark. The next, she was on top of me, straddling my waist, the insides of her knees pressing against my hipbones, her hands closing around my wrists on both sides of my head, her lithe body pushing mine deeper into the couch cushions, and her—holy fuck—tempting breasts mere inches from my mouth.
My pulse jackknifed, and I lost any ability to control my arousal. My dick turned to a rod of steel, one I knew she was going to feel if she moved back at all, so I held perfectly still, trying not to draw attention to what she was doing to me.
And, damn, how pathetic was I that I actually liked this—liked her climbing over me and pinning me down, even if it was highly likely she was only here to kick my sorry ass for ruining her life.
She bent toward me. I still couldn’t see her eyes, had no idea what she was doing, then—fuck me—I felt her lips the second they made contact with my throat. Felt her kiss me, once...twice... Felt her fingers tighten around my wrists. And nearly fucking came right there in my shorts when her tongue sneaked out and licked my hypersensitive skin.
All the reasons I’d convinced myself I needed to stay away from her shattered against that couch, right along with my willpower.
I easily pulled my wrists from her grip, grasped her face in both of my hands, and pushed up to sitting, forcing her back so her weight dropped onto my lap and my aching cock pressed against the soft heat between her legs.
She reached for my hands and tried to pull them away from her face, but I didn’t let her. I held her still as I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against hers, desperate to taste her and take her and make her mine again.
She jerked back from my lips. For a split second, I caught sight of her eyes, more gray than blue because of the dim light, but hard, determined, and blazing with a fire that was unlike any I’d seen in her before.
Her hands landed on my bare shoulders, and she dug her fingertips into my flesh as she dipped her head and licked one side of my neck with her tantalizing tongue.
My eyes slid closed at the wicked sensation, and a groan built in my throat. I still didn’t know why she was here, why she was doing this, but I didn’t fucking care. It felt so damn good. She felt so good.
My hands drifted to her hips as she continued to tease and torture me with the soft brush of her lips. Then she sank her teeth into my skin and bit down, and pain shot across my spine.
What was left of my gray matter short-circuited, and the only thought I had was to get her naked and under me fast so I could bury myself deep inside her before she changed her mind.
I wrapped my arms around her waist. Rocked my aching cock up against her tempting heat. She sucked a spot on my throat again, distracting me from my goal, and scraped her teeth along my flesh until I shivered. I groaned, angled my head toward hers, desperate to taste her, to kiss her, but she moved out of my reach and twisted around before I could capture her mouth, then pressed her lips to the other side of my neck.
Bloody hell, she was making me hotter with every second. My brain fogged. All I wanted was more.
I kissed her cheek, her jaw, her ear, whatever I could reach. Tried to find her mouth, but she angled away from my lips. Her wicked teeth nipped at my flesh, then she licked and kissed the salty skin behind my ear until I was seconds away from melting.
The sensations she was building inside me felt fucking amazing. But something in the back of my head whispered this wasn’t right. Yes, she’d come to me. Yes, she was driving me wild with her mouth. Yes, she was thrusting her sweet little pussy against my cock, exactly as I’d dreamt of her doing for days—no, weeks. But she wasn’t kissing my lips. She wasn’t letting me taste her the way I craved. She wasn’t looking me in the eye as we reconnected.
A chill spread through the center of my chest, one that cleared the sexual haze from my brain even if it didn’t do a thing to smother my arousal.