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Rene pressed his face into Melody’s hair, inhaling the sweet scent of sex and woman and roses in greedy gulps of air. Then groaned, aware of the vicious heat still pulsing in his groin, despite the titanic climax.
How the hell could he want her so much?
He dislodged himself and then flopped onto his back beside her before he collapsed on top of her—or worse, got hard again.
He needed to pace himself.
They had all night. And by the end of it he wanted to have this wild hunger for her sated, so they could make good on their truce and part, if not friends, at least not enemies.
He rolled his head towards her, to find her staring back at him, her eyes as dazed as he felt.
He grinned. She looked as shattered as he did.
Finally, I’ve bested her, too.
He lifted a heavy hand to brush one unruly curl back from her face and hook it behind her ear.
‘Now we’ve taken the edge off, we should probably take a break before round two.’
Her brow arched speculatively, and a wave of affection for her blindsided him. Why had he never realised her snarky attitude was one of the things which had attracted him to her in the first place?
‘Round two?’ she asked. ‘Who said there’s going to be a round two?’
‘Isn’t there?’ he asked lazily, not rising to the bait for once, the afterglow like a drug.
Her complexion went the same interesting shade of vermillion he had noticed the day before. ‘I’m really not sure…’
‘Hey…’ He skimmed his thumb across her lips to silence the refusal he thought might be coming—and really did not want to hear. ‘Surely, we owe it to ourselves to take one night? To explore this…’ his gaze drifted down to the pert nipples he had every intention of feasting on next—once he’d got his breath back ‘…connection,’ he murmured. ‘We were too drunk to do it more than once four years ago. And after surviving that storm… We deserve it.’
He propped himself onto his elbow to stare down at her—the surge of longing unprecedented. But then, he had always been supremely confident about his ability to seduce any and every woman he desired… Except Melody Taylor, apparently. And after that first time he had lost the urge to seduce any woman but her.
Was that why he found her so tempting? So compelling. So irresistible. So unique. Because she had always presented a challenge he couldn’t be sure of winning. Had always made him work for her approval.
He frowned. Wow, that would make him incredibly shallow, wouldn’t it? That he could be so captivated by the thrill of the chase. But so be it. Now he’d finally caught her, he didn’t plan to let her go too easily.
‘We nearly died, Melody,’ he said, laying it on a little thick.
‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit of a drama queen?’ she offered, throwing his own words back at him.
‘Maybe.’ He kissed the tip of her breast, rewarded when she gasped, and the rosy peak tightened. ‘But I still think we’d be nuts not to enjoy each other for the rest of the time we’re stuck here together. Before we go our separate ways.’
No point in pretending this could be more than a port in a storm… A very hot port in a surprisingly fortuitous storm, as it turned out.
They had been heading here all along, he realised. The bitching and bickering and endless arguments hadn’t just been about the way their one night had ended, but also about this insane spark that had tormented them both for four years.
He’d hurt her by running out on her that morning like a damn coward. But thankfully she would never know how much of a coward he’d really been. That his decision to propose to Isabelle a few weeks later had been a direct result of his inability to forget Isabelle’s best friend the way he’d wanted to.
It occurred to him she was no longer that innocent girl—the thought of other men enjoying her sent an uncomfortable spike of jealousy into his chest.
He forced himself to ignore it when she snorted.
‘Prince Egomaniac strikes again.’ She wiggled out from under his arm and scooted across the bed, then dragged the sheet up to cover all those delectable curves.
Shame. The vague feeling of regret sharpened—that he’d been her first lover but all he’d really taught her was how to be cynical about sex.
‘Are you saying youdon’twant to have your way with me again?’ he teased to cover the surge of longing—and the spurt of jealousy and regret.
If she knew how much he wanted her, she would use it against him—she had always been contrary. But, to his surprise, her gaze skated over him, the naked longing unmistakable—and undisguised.