French Kiss Part 18

"Jesus, stop," he muttered. "This hard-on is getting impossible to hide."

"Sorry."

"Yeah," he said on a suffocated breath. "Me, too. Most l y that it's four o'clock instead of ten. Okay, babe, we've got company coming into range."

She only had time for one last look as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Lordy, Lordy, those were buns of steel, his shoulders like a stevedore's, and she didn't even dare think of the front of him. That she knew was hard as steel.

"We have to behave now," he murmured, standing on the sand waiting for her. He waved at Jordi and Marie who were swinging their arms like semaph.o.r.es from a distant man-made grotto midway up the rough escarpment bordering the private cove.

"I'll behave, if you will."

"s.h.i.t," he said. "I was counting on you to set an example for me."

"I'm not sure I can promise that," she breathed, her insubordinate gaze on the tantalizing bulge in his swim suit.

"Hey, eyes forward. Ve rn ie's watching us."

Her gaze flashed up, Vernie's command and control an effective deterrent.

"Hey, Vernie!" Johnny shouted. "We're going for a swim first!"

Vernie waved in acknowledgment from her seat inside a striped cabana that was fortunately a football field away.

"Race you to the water," Johnny said, and driven by necessity, he sprinted for the safety of the sea. Finally stopping waist-deep, he turned to watch as Nicky removed her long shirt and walked toward the water.

He was reminded of that cla.s.sic scene from 10 with Bo Derek. Nicky even walked with the same fluid grace, her body supple and fit. As she smiled at him, he suddenly felt as though the subtlest shift in his universe had occurred. Nothing big-more like he was experiencing a new appreciation for life. Or maybe just a specific appreciation for one particular woman with long, slender legs, trim hips, a narrow waist, and f.u.c.king great t.i.ts. The kind of appreciation any normal, h.o.r.n.y male would feel.

Not that he had to have more than the usual reason for liking her, but he also liked the fact that she'd chosen a functional suit. It set her apart from the women who were more interested in their decorative role around a pool. Not that the figure-hugging suit was purely functional. It was frigging turning him on, and first chance he had he was stripping it off.

Which, unfortunately, wouldn't be real soon. He groaned.

Maybe he should swim far enough out to take the edge off his l.u.s.t. Perhaps strenuous exercise would calm the savage beast in him.

Good idea, his voice of reason agreed. "I'm going to swim out a ways. Be back in a while," he called out to her.

"I'll come with," she shouted. Already knee-deep, she dove in, and coming up a few seconds later, she moved into a smooth crawl.

He immediately kicked off, intent on putting distance between himself and temptation. It was a long, long time until ten o'clock.

But a half mile out, he slowed down to catch his breath and was surprised to find her only a few strokes behind. He was a strong swimmer. "Apparently, you've done this before," he said, treading water as she approached.

"Minnesota, Land of Ten Thousand Lakes," she replied as she reached him. "I've been swimming since I was four."

He smiled. "You're good at lots of things."

"Back at you," she replied, treading water effortlessly. "And might I add," she said with a grin, "tonight I'm looking forward to one particular thing you do exceptionally well."

"Speaking of which-have you ever been f.u.c.ked in the Mediterranea n?" His voice of reason apparentl y had drowned on the way out.

"No. Although, I expect it would be wise not to ask the same of you."

"Ask. I haven't." He'd never been that desperate before.

"You surprise me."

"Come closer, and I'll surprise you with something else. No one can see us out here."

"Except for that sailboat over there."

"I doubt it's anyone we know."

"For sure, it's no one I know."

"So, whaddya think?"

"I'd love to."

Christ, he loved her honesty. No games, no pretense. She said what she meant and meant what she said. An unprecedented phenomenon in his world where no one ever meant anything they said. "Let's see what we can do then about giving you an o.r.g.a.s.m or two. Come here, I'll take your suit off."

He pulled off her suit, then his, slipped them up one arm for safekeeping, and holding her under her ribs, said, "Wrap your legs around my waist."

For a man who'd supposedly never done this before, he'd figured out the procedure without missing a beat. But with the head of his erection nudging her Mediterranean-Sea-bathed p.u.b.es, she wasn't about to take issue. And as he slid his ever-ready hard-on into her, it felt so good, so right, and really-so enormously gratifying-that she lost any sense of even mild resentment.

It was amazing how well they fit together, as though after only one night, their bodies had dovetailed, synchronized, and now fit to a T. It was equally amazing how strong he was-able to keep them both above water with just a leisurely kick of his feet. That the slow rhythm of his kick somehow matched the flux and flow of his hips resulted in a highly effective and fiercely arousing hard, steady penetration and withdrawal.

"Is that far enough in?"

As punctuation to his query, he drove in deeper.

She gasped, her legs tightened around him, and a kind of pleasure she didn't know existed suffused her entire body.

"More?" he whispered, as if he didn't know, as if she wasn't melting around him like hot fusion. "Answer me," he growled, needing the words, needing to hear she was as bad off as he, as insatiable.

"Yes, yes, yes... give me more..."

It was barely audible, the light breeze picking up the words and carrying them away.

He shouldn't have been so gratified. It shouldn't have mattered-one woman or another. Then again, why dwell on philosophical considerations when they were both grooving in some prodigal s.e.xual wonderland.

He gave her more, and she greedily took it, rushing toward the finish line that first time so precipitously, he barely kept up.

But he did.

After years of f.u.c.king, he'd acquired a certain skill level.

And flipping on his back afterward, he pulled her atop him and floated in the aftermath of o.r.g.a.s.m, the sun warming the sea and air, his body warmed by a heat of another kind.

How delicious it was, Nicky blissfully mused, resting on her own personal raft, to feel transcended, even dominated by such a superb example of male virility. s.e.xist it might be and insensitive to the issue of equality, but it was a world-cla.s.s turn on, she had to admit.

Less introspective, Johnny was figuring he could do this a couple times before he drowned. But it felt so good right now, drowning wasn't a major concern-unlike that sailboat that had just put down its anchor.

But they were both so incredibly h.o.r.n.y that issues other than immediate climax were cavalierly relegated to minor status. And fortunately, they'd both come so quickly the first time, the people on the sailboat had barely had time to get out their binoculars.

Their bodies still connected, Johnny gen tl y ran his palms down Nicky's back. "You were quiet that time," he teased, getting used to her vocal o.r.g.a.s.ms. "Vernie can't hear way out here."

Nicky nodded towa rd the sailboat to their west. " They're kinda close."

"Don't worry about them," Johnny murmured, lazily kicking to keep them afloat.

Nicky's brows rose faintly. "You're way more casual than I."

"Believe me, I'm not in the habit of f.u.c.king in the water like some randy high school kid."

She grinned. "So I'm special."

"d.a.m.n right. Speaking of which-hold on, babe. We're gonna both feel special pretty d.a.m.ned soon again." And he said a lit tl e prayer that it was binoculars, not a camera that guy on the sailboat had up to his eyes. If it was a camera, this little escapade would be front-page news tomorrow. Not that it mattered with the state of his libido pretty much run amok.

But he kept Nicky turned away from the sailboat during their next frenzied coupling, and after they'd climaxed again, he figured they'd probably pushed their luck far enough. That they were both insanely fast in their prurient state of rut, at least kept the photos to a minimum-if that was a photographer on that boat. "Are you gonna be okay for a while now?" He'd have Cole check out the sailboat first thing when they got back.

She grinned. "How long is a while?"

"s.e.x fiend," he whispered, kissing her smile.

"Don't blame me. It's all your fault."

"I beg to differ, but let' s have that argument on sh.o.r.e. I' m getting tired."

"Oh, dear, how selfish of me," Nicky quickly said, pushing away so he wouldn't have to hold her afloat. "Give me my suit. I can put it on myself."

If he wasn't d.a.m.ned near exhausted, he might have argued. But he was at that stage when he couldn't remember when he'd slept last. And even though the sea was calm and the current minimal in the lee of the cove, keeping them both above water had taken a certain amount of effort.

When they were both suited again, he said, "You set the pace."

Nicky swam slowly, mostly doing the backstroke because it was easy.

Johnny did a lazy b.r.e.a.s.t.stroke alongside, asking from time to time it she wanted to stop and rest.

He was so d.a.m.nably polite, so obliging and indulgent, she found it becoming increasing difficult not to move from infatuation to something more serious, and let's face it-ridiculous. Although, she understood now why women in such numbers dogged his heels. If she wasn't careful, she'd be going through major, major withdrawal when this was over.

"Wanna take a break?"

"Maybe just a minute." She took his outstretched hand.

He just quie tl y held her, letting her rest, treading water with a minimum kick. "That was really nice," he said with a smile. "You and me-back there."

There was something in his tone of voice that touched her heart. Or maybe everything about him touched her heart. She was thoroughly confused, charmed, and fascinated, giddy, too, with she didn't know what-but something. "You betcha," she said, smiling back. "It was nicer than nice."

And then she shut up before she said something really stupid. Something a man like Johnny Patrick wouldn't appreciate. Something he'd probably heard too many times before.

"You two look exhausted," Vernie said, as they walked toward the cabana a short time later.

"There's a bit of a current out there," Johnny said, curbing his impulse to smile. "It takes the wind out of you."

"Have a gla.s.s of wine and rest," Vernie offered, waving at the small table inside the cabana holding wine, gla.s.ses, and appetizers. "I've had my one-gla.s.s quota, and it was excellent. Tell me what your plans are while you're here. For one, Nicky should see the Russian chapel. It's spectacular."

Johnny looked at Nicky, his gaze studiously blank. His plans were pretty much limited to f.u.c.king 24/7. Not that it was possible, but tell his libido that. "Care for a gla.s.s of wine?" he asked.

" That would be nice," Nicky said, when the thought of returning to the house and sleeping for an hour was equally appealing. Particularly if she could share that bed with her host.

"If you're tired, go on up to the house," Johnny offered, politely. "I'll stay and visit with Vernie and the girls."

"I can rest here, and that wine sounds intriguing."

"Perfect. Sit down. I'll get you a towel and a gla.s.s of wine." He seemed genuinely glad that she'd agreed to stay. She was surprised how moved she was by so small a thing. But post-o.r.g.a.s.mic, she was feeling earnestly smitten and beguiled, wanting nothing more than to be near him, within sight and sound of him.

Close enough to touch him. If she could. If it wasn't forbidden in public.

He was fast becoming a profound and heartfelt addiction. And she a lovelorn fool.

Which wasn't sensible in the least.

Unless she wanted her heart smashed to smithereens.

Aaaagh.

She reached for the winegla.s.s he was handing her.

Leave the bottle, she felt like saying.

I'm going to need it.

Twenty-seven.

Yuri rapped on the door of the bedroom, then without waiting, pushed it open and walked inside a room that could have graced Architectural Digest spread on French mansions. "Time to go," he said, curtly. "I had a call."

Raf glanced up briefly, panted, "No way," and resumed his rhythm.

"Make it quick. They want that ring delivered." Yuri didn't move, and indifferent to his friend's presence, Raf continued pumping away. The woman beneath him-familiar with an audience-performed her duties with the vigor required of a three-thousand euro fee, and in short order everyone was satisfied. Raf was collapsed on his back, breathing hard, the beautiful woman was gathering her lingerie from the carpet, and Yuri was counting down the minutes until they could leave.

He waved the woman out. "We have to meet them at five," Yuri said brusquely.

With a groan and a string of curses, Raf rolled from the bed. "Couldn't you have rescheduled?" he muttered. "She was paid for all night."