But his weight had gone and his hands gripped hers, holding them to her sides as he knelt over her, kissing his way from one breast to another, teasing her painfully tight nipples with his hot mouth and wickedly sexy tongue. And then that tongue went lower, circling her belly button and its decorative silver ring and then lower still. He lifted a hand and slid that south too, delving fingers into her curve, parting her so he could kiss that most secret, sensitive part of her.
He gripped her hips now, stilling her writhing enough so he could extract more from her—more tension, more longing, more need.
But the need to touch him rose, too. She lifted her shoulders from the ground, reaching for him and yanking his shorts down. He groaned as he sprang free and she took advantage of his momentary stillness to move—to explore.
She stroked his silken, rigid length with her fingers and heard him swear. She kissed him and felt him shudder. Then he twisted in her hold, moving so he could touch her as intimately as she was him.
He matched his strokes to hers and she revelled in the freedom of giving her hunger free rein. She breathed in the scent of him, licked the salty taste of him, pressed the hardness of him beneath his smooth skin. She savoured the tension she felt rolling off him. Yes, she could torment him too and she relished it. Her actions grew bolder still, more aggressive, faster, frantic—she was desperate for the pleasures of the flesh and for the white-hot orgasm she knew was almost hers. But suddenly he was gone. Half a metre away from her.
She whimpered, body trembling with loss. ‘Why have you stopped?’
‘Because I want more than this.’ He tore the packet, sheathed himself with fast, jerky movements.
What more did he want? Mutual pleasure, physical fulfilment—what more was there?
‘I want it all.’ He rose above her, aligning his length to hers as he looked into her eyes. He laced their fingers together and she could feel him there, thick and heavy against her. So close.
Yes, there was more. There was intimacy, there was that baring not just of body, but of soul. That sharing of the most inner self—and the vulnerability that came with it. And he was seeking it—his ice-blue eyes on fire and searching deep into hers.
He thrust deep, sure, hard. She closed her eyes, tried to absorb the hit of feeling as they locked together again—but she couldn’t. Her breath shuddered from her lungs, catching her cry. And in those few moments he regained his control, but hers ebbed. She’d ached for this for too long.
‘Please, oh, please.’ Her fingers pulled at him, nails curled into the hard muscles, and her hips lifted, forcing the rhythm she so desperately craved, wanting him to drive into her.
And then he did, thrusting deep again, again, again.
Her hands swept over his broad, slick shoulders, revelling in the bulging muscles, savouring the incredibly hard body riding her, rocking into her with a faster, more powerful rhythm than she’d ever dreamed of. This couldn’t be wrong. It had to be right. Nothing had ever felt so right.
It didn’t take much; it was never going to take much when she’d been so on edge for him for so long. She panted, more audible, more hysterical until all too soon he caught her mouth with his and contained her scream, adding his own groan to it as they shook, reaching the summit and freefalling through the sensations.
ANA rose before the sun, slipped on a tee shirt and shorts, not bothering with a bikini underneath—just wanting to escape while he slept. Seconds later she left the banda and went for a walk along the beach, eventually succumbing to the temptation and wading into the warm water. She floated for an age, looking out to the horizon where the sky was lightening, and waited for the sun.
She sensed something, looked over her shoulder and saw him watching from the water’s edge. The splashes were gentle as he walked in. His arm curled around her, pulling her back against him before she had any chance of escape—not that she wanted to.
His hands spread wide, smoothing over her wet shirt, and then cupped her breasts. She couldn’t help herself, leaned back against him. One hand slipped lower, beneath her waistband to where she was really wet. It was mere moments, the fewest of seconds, but it wasn’t over. His mouth was hot on her neck, pressing passionate kisses between the words he whispered again, again. ‘One night is not enough.’
Until finally she answered him, acknowledging the truth of it, and offering the only answer she could. ‘The rest of Africa. We can have the rest of Africa.’
‘Yes.’ He hauled her closer, touched her more deeply, and, as the sun rose, made her come.
A bit over an hour later Ana was enjoying fresh fruit and toast for breakfast, relieved to see Seb disappear with one of the island guys for a while. Instead of feeling any kind of release, she was now tenser, more aware than she’d ever been. It had been amazing. His body was that much leaner, stronger and his patience had filled her with awe. Because after those snatched moments in the sea she’d been begging as the void inside had needed to be filled again and he’d happily obliged. Twice.