Page 106 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

The relief within her was only eclipsed by the burst of joy the sight of him provoked.

He’s the one. The only one. It was an elemental recognition that had been too big for her to accept five years ago.

It had been too frightening to live with someone who could affect her this profoundly with a look or a touch.

Today, she surrendered to that force. To him.

He pulled the edge of the blanket down, and she moved onto the sheet he exposed.

She watched him roll the condom down his erection and lay on her back as he loomed over her.

Her arms lifted to welcome him. She parted her lips and enjoyed the sweet friction of her naked thigh as she stroked it along the outsides of his.

She let her hands greedily feel all of him—the contours of his back and the hard hills of his buttocks, the tendons behind his neck and the shape of his skull.

The taste of his kiss and the dark way their combined sensuality swallowed her whole.

When he lined up and pierced her, there was a small pinch because it had been so long. She caught her breath and he lifted his head, glazed eyes penetrating hers with concern.

He hadn’t really believed her, but now he set a comforting kiss on her lips. And he cupped her face and set his brow against her temple and said in quiet Greek, “I missed you, too.”

That’s what their celibacy—their fidelity—meant.

Shaken, she curled her arms around his neck.

He tucked her beneath him with care and let her get used to the feel of him inside her again, murmuring, “Tell me when you’re ready.”

She was ready! Her body was singing with anguished joy at the weight of his hips and the nuzzle of his lips against her ear and the thud of his heart on her breast.

So much emotion rose within her, her eyes dampened anew.

This was love, she thought. It was this tremendous vulnerability and heightened elation and sense of safety all combined. It was this desire to please. To ease. To stroke him and pour herself into their kiss and be generous. To offer her entire being without condition.

That’s why he had scared her so much. How could she be enough for him? How could she love him and not lose herself?

Five years ago, she had pushed him away as hard as she could. Now she embraced him. She lifted her hips in invitation and he groaned, taut body shuddering before he began to move.

They were still a perfect match, like dancers who had been partners for years. The bed was their floor and they moved around it with elegance and ease, kissing and rolling, parting briefly only to press close again, all to the beat of their hearts and the music of their pleasured moans.

He lifted her to the heights, pulling her to straddle his hips where she arched in climax, then tumbling her onto her back to drive her to the brink again.

And when she thought herself incapable of withstanding any more pleasure, he said, “You can. For me. Once more. Let me feel it.”

She couldn’t resist his urgent lips or intimate touch. His demand for her to give him everything. This time, when she quaked and broke apart, he was with her, shouting out his triumph, holding her in that stasis of pleasure for long moments so the whole world turned golden and promising.

Then they both collapsed like the fallen angels that they were.

They made love twice more in the night.

Damian should have been drained by then, but when he woke with a start to an empty bed, and found her in the shower, he prowled into the stall to join her, hornier than ever.

She welcomed him with soapy arms and a warm, wet kiss, but he saw the shadow of a bruise around her mouth. His fingerprints were all over her. When he slid his touch between her legs, her indrawn breath wasn’t all pleasure.

“Sore?”

“A little,” she admitted.

Remorse had him skimming his mouth to her cheekbone as he tried to rein in the arousal that was already thick and stiff between them.

“But I don’t want you to be aching,” she purred and slid to her knees.

Within about five seconds of her mouth enveloping him, he was lost.

Even so, when they dried off, he still wanted her. Acutely.

He pulled on his clothes and made himself exert some control, but rather than drink his coffee in the lounge, he brought one to her.

She had moved into the other bedroom where her luggage was.

He sat in the chair in the corner and watched her move around in a seafoam-colored bra and underwear that was lacy and pretty as hell.

“I wouldn’t bother with makeup,” she said, leaning her hips against the bathroom sink. “But they know I’m here. My team says there’s chatter online, mostly wondering how we met. It puts extra attention on your award so that’s something.”

“That’s not why I asked you to come with me.” He wasn’t interested in anything except the way the scalloped lace of her underwear sat against the pale globe of her ass.

When she bent to blow-dry her hair upside down, he nearly crawled out of his skin. A few minutes later, she flipped up, cheeks pink and gaze brightening with amusement as she caught him ogling her.

“What are you thinking about?” She sauntered toward him, making everything in him tighten.

In a deliberately provocative move, she stepped her foot over his outstretched legs and dropped her hands onto the back of his chair, not touching him, but affording him a very nice view of her breasts swaying in the cups of her bra.

The V of her underwear cut from her hips down to that paradisiacal place that so enthralled him.

He licked his lips and, with supreme effort, tilted his head against the chair back to say, “I want to get back to Zoia.”

“Right.” The light in her eyes dimmed, and she pushed the chairback to straighten up.

He almost caught her hand, but she was too quick.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” he asked, suspecting he had. He was learning that she bruised easily. In every way.

“Not really.” She was back in the bathroom where she brushed her hair with quick strokes. “I just…” She came to the doorway and held the hairbrush in her two hands. “It’s fine if we’re not going to do this again. I just need you to say that so I know what to expect.”

The beast within him came up against the length of chain he was trying to keep himself on and howled.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“To screw ourselves blind on every piece of furniture we encounter. Obviously. ”

He chuckled at the ceiling. Same. He couldn’t be more aligned with her on that.

“But last night we agreed it was just for now. I wasn’t sure if that meant now , while we’re here in Berlin, or until I leave the island.

” She moved to the bed and threw her hairbrush into the open suitcase, then shook out a pair of sage-colored wide-legged trousers and stepped into them.

A matching crop top followed, leaving a glimpse of her midriff.

“I don’t want to give Zoia a wrong impression about our future, so it’s fine if you want to leave things here. ”

As if Zoia wouldn’t notice that his mood was a thousand times improved from what it had been for the last five, dry years.

Carmel threw a few more things in the bag and snapped it closed, then kicked into a pair of sandals and looked at him.

“I know that we don’t really have a future. Forgiving me doesn’t mean you forget. Wanting to have sex with me doesn’t mean you want me . That’s okay. I want the sex. Last night was fantastic. I really needed that. Thank you.”

“Me too,” he said with a rasp in his voice.

“I know,” she said, holding his gaze long enough he began to regret telling her there hadn’t been anyone else.

It felt too revealing. Then her brows came together in pensive thought.

“Zoia’s situation is stressful for you. You need an outlet.

I’m okay with being your distraction. I really am. It has its perks.”

“That sounds like pity sex, Carmel.”

“No.” She sent him a sulky scowl. “Friends with benefits.” Her frown altered to one that was more earnest. Apprehensive. “Do you think we could be friends?”

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I’m worried that I’ll hurt you. I don’t want us to do that to each other again.”

“Me either.” She chewed the corner of her mouth.

“But unless you tell me very clearly that you don’t want me to touch you…

” He rose and moved to set his hands on her hips.

“I don’t think I can keep my hands off you.

” He sought the warm skin beneath the fall of her top, bracketing his hands on her smooth waist, thumbs reaching to caress her rib cage.

“I like it when you touch me.” Her pupils dilated, and her hands slid up his arms to his shoulders while she leaned into him. “I don’t want to stop until we have to.”

They didn’t stop.

Over the next few days, they spent every night and half their days making love.

While they weren’t demonstrative in front of Zoia, she could tell. She teased Carmel one morning in the garden.

“I’m pleased you and Damian are getting along so well.” Her smile was smug. “I knew Berlin would be good for you.”

Carmel stuck her tongue in her cheek and changed the subject.

Lethe knew what was going on, too. How could she not? Carmel’s bed was never slept in. Damian began coming back to the villa for lunch. They would swim and disappear upstairs to “change” before coming down an hour later, mellow and hungry.

One morning, while they were eating breakfast, Damian passed his tablet across to her, showing her a photo of himself.

In it, he was ten years younger, sitting astride a motorcycle.

His hair was overlong and his T-shirt held the name of a rock band she didn’t recognize.

He wore a cocky grin she hadn’t seen since the first time they’d met, and there was something about his eyes and the filter on the photo—

“Is this your father?” she asked in shock.

“Potentially. He’s an engineer. Owns a big firm in Australia.”