Emma had been flushed with excitement and beaming when Vanni arrived back at the box to claim her for the award ceremony. She’d been unusually quiet on the car ride home, however, and Vanni thought he knew why.

They’d stayed to drink champagne with Niki, the Montand crew, and friends and family at a private room on the arena grounds. After taking one look at Emma, whose expression appeared strained and her face pale, he’d bowed out for the celebratory dinner at a local seaside resort. He’d had enough of crowds and champagne and the hoopla for an entire year. Besides, despite the fact that Emma had enthusiastically said she’d go if he liked, she looked a little relieved when he said he’d rather have dinner alone with her at the empty villa.

He brought the car to a halt in La Mer’s circular back drive and looked over at Emma.

“I’m sorry she came,” he said simply. “I was shocked to see her sitting next to you.”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it,” she assured.

He reached over and grabbed her hand. She folded her fingers into his. Why did the way she curled up to him always strike him as so much sweeter than when anyone before had done it? “She doesn’t mean anything to me. You know that, right?”

She met his stare. “I know that firsthand. I was there, remember?” she asked softly.

He stiffened. Emma was right there, holding his hand. So why did he have the feeling she was drifting away from him? His gaze narrowed on her.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She must have noticed his doubtful expression. “I’m just really tired. I . . . I started my period this afternoon,” she said, grimacing slightly, her pale cheeks coloring. She gave him a reluctant glance. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Biology?” he asked, relieved that her being out of sorts wasn’t associated with something he could have controlled but hadn’t. She gave him a rueful smile. “Do you have difficult periods?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I just get tired and headachy on the first day. I’m usually okay by the second.”

He squeezed her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. How about a hot bath and a glass of wine?”

“Make it tea and it sounds like heaven.”

She padded barefoot out of the bathroom, wearing a short, pale blue button-up nightgown, pausing when she saw Vanni standing next to the bed. He folded back the sheet and comforter and motioned for her to get in.

“You’re being very sweet. I’m not an invalid, you know,” Emma told him amusedly. She’d thought the bath and cup of chamomile had made her sleepy until she walked into the bedroom and saw Vanni. It appeared he’d showered in the other bathroom. He wore a pair of black cotton lounging pants that hung low on his trim hips and a simple white T-shirt. He was barefoot. The hair around his neck was still damp.

Her entire body perked into instant awareness. He looked good enough to eat.

“I don’t think you’re an invalid. It wouldn’t hurt to rest, though. And for once, we have nothing else to do. For a whole week,” he added with a significant glance as she sat in the bed.

“A whole week. Amazing,” Emma murmured, staring out the open French doors to the sea in the distance. It was evening, and a cool breeze made the room very comfortable and ruffled the potted flowers on the terrace. She’d thought a lot about the concerns Astrid’s appearance had reawakened in her at the race. No matter how she dressed things up, she and Astrid were definitely in similar situations when it came to Vanni. The only difference was that Emma had his attention now. There would be someone else to follow her. She’d decided the wise thing would be to bail on this whole thing now, before she fell even further in love with him.

But the simple matter was, she wasn’t wise when it came to him. If she only had days to live, she wouldn’t hasten death. She’d cherish and savor every second she had.

It was the same for her in this thing with Vanni.

She turned toward him. “I’ll lie down for a bit if you come with me.”

“I was planning on it.”

She smiled at that and scooted over for him. After a moment, he spooned her from behind beneath the soft cotton sheet as both of them stared out at the terrace and the sea beyond.

“Are you cramping?” he asked quietly, opening his hand at her lower belly and stroking her soothingly. It felt sublime.

“Not much,” she said, caressing his forearm. She was being honest. She wasn’t so much cramping as she was suffering from a constricted, slightly achy feeling at her core. After several minutes, however, his stroking hand close to her pelvis and his long, hard body pressed so close to her backside evoked a different feeling than comfort. A thick, warm feeling settled in her sex. She felt his cock twitch against her backside and her stroking hand stilled.

“Was it a good day for you, Vanni?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“No. It was the best,” he said, continuing to stroke her with his magical hand. She wriggled her hips slightly.

“That feels good,” she said in a tight voice.

“Does it?” he asked, and she heard the pointedness of his tone.

“Very,” she said, her head still turned away from him.

“I’m sorry about starting my period. Bad timing. Your best day, and all,” she finished on a hesitant whisper.

“Today isn’t going to be ruined by something like that. Impossible.”

Her heart seemed to grow beyond its space in her chest. She turned her chin toward him. His elbow was bent and his head propped against his hand. Evening whiskers darkened his jaw. He looked down at her with a lambent stare, and she felt his cock swell behind the thin fabric of their clothing. Her lips parted to ask him . . . what, exactly? But then he was there, his mouth moving coaxingly over hers, shaping their flesh together, his tongue penetrating her lips.

“Do you want to make love?” she whispered when he lifted his head a moment later.

“Of course,” he said, as if that was a foregone conclusion. He studied her face for a moment. “If you do.”

“I do, but . . .”

His brow quirked in slight puzzlement when she faded off, but then understanding dawned. He began to stroke her again on the strip of skin just above her mons. She felt her clit pinch in acute arousal.

“I see. You usually don’t have sex when you’re on your period,” he said quietly.

“No. I don’t think most women want to, do they?” Emma asked, glad he’d put her dilemma into words. He gave her a bland expression. She laughed softly. “Oh, I see. Most women do with you.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he said soberly.

“What did you mean then?” she asked, not dissuaded from her initial belief—what woman wouldn’t want him, even on her deathbed?—but she was still curious.

“I meant,” he said, continuing to watch her as he lifted the hem of her nightgown, “that there are certain things that happen to a woman’s body when she’s on her period. If she feels up to it, it’s very good to take advantage of those things. Are you wearing a tampon?” he asked so matter-of-factly, she blinked. She nodded. Her eyes widened and she gasped when he burrowed a finger between her labia and began to rub and press on the sensitive flesh. “Do you feel that?” he murmured. “There’s increased blood flow to this area during your period. Climaxes can be much more powerful and frequent. Plus, orgasms can help alleviate the discomfort of cramps.”

“Really?” she managed because he was continuing to rub her. She bit her lip and flexed her hips slightly, feeling his erection, now full and heavy next to her ass. “Never mind,” she gasped as pleasure and arousal inundated her. “I see what you mean.”

A smile shadowed his lips. “Your body is so sensitive. I’ve been looking forward to this . . . to seeing whether or not you’d become even more sensitive during this time.”

She opened her mouth to exclaim in disbelief over the idea he’d been looking forward to her period, but then he pressed harder with his rubbing finger and all she got out was a moan. Heat rushed into her cheeks. Her nipples prickled against the fabric of her gown. His touch had a charge to it tonight—forbidden and taboo. She’d never even masturbated when she was on her period, let alone allowed a man to pleasure her during it. God. What had she been missing out on?

“I can see you’re going to exceed my expectations, as usual,” he rasped, his gaze flickering over her breasts, before his mouth closed on hers. She came a moment later while he kissed her deeply, shuddering against his hard, primed body.

“There,” he said quietly as her trembling eased. “Nice?”

“So nice,” she panted, smiling slightly because he continued to play her sensitive clit, and it was abundantly clear to both of them how creamy she’d become in the cleft between her labia.

“Would you like to feel nice again?” he asked, holding her stare.

“Yes,” she mouthed wordlessly.

“I thought so,” he replied with a small smile. Like the sea, the muted evening light was turning his eyes into a smoky blue. She winced slightly at the deprivation when he removed his hand from her panties. “Let’s just unbutton this,” he said calmly. His long fingers moved down her chest, unfastening her gown to above her belly button. He peeled back the fabric, exposing her breasts. His nostrils flared slightly as he looked down at her, and she felt that telltale leap of his cock against her ass. She circled her bottom against him, and she saw a muscle jump in her cheek.

“Would you like to be spanked?” he asked.

She stilled her wiggling, stunned by his serious, intent question. She just stared at him a moment

“No,” she lied.

One dark brow rose in a doubtful expression, but he didn’t argue. He just slid his hand beneath her underwear again and began to rub her well-lubricated clit. She whimpered as heat and sensation rushed through her anew. He lowered his head and spoke near her ear. “Because the next time you wiggle your ass against my cock like that, I’m going to consider it an invitation.” Her hips twitched at the dark promise. His head started up, but she stilled herself at the last moment. He gave her an amused look of warning.

“How does it feel?” he asked a moment later, ungluing his gaze from her naked breasts.

“It burns so . . . good,” she gasped. Her clit had never sizzled like this before. The soles of her feet started to heat in sympathy to his touch on her sex. “You were right about the advantages. But what about you?”

“What about me?” he asked, his mouth hard as he stared at her breasts fixedly. Her nipples prickled at the delicious contrast of the cool breeze feathering across the sensitive crests and his hot stare.

“Don’t you want to come, too?” she asked in a strangled voice. She was restraining herself mightily not to grind her ass against his flagrantly swollen cock.

“Yes,” he replied in a hard voice. “But not until we explore the advantages more. Squeeze one of your breasts,” he bit out.

She was surprised by the taut demand, but didn’t hesitate. She cupped her breast from below and massaged it, watching his expression darken. Her skin felt surprisingly soft in her hand, silky and smooth.

“Hold it up for me,” he said.

The words sent a hot thrill through her. She burned. Everywhere. She longed to bob her hips against his hand, but thought he might consider that a tease to his cock. She cupped her breast from below and lifted the firm flesh as if in offering. His cock batted against her ass. She held her breath when she saw the feral flash in his eyes, and then his mouth enclosing her nipple, giving it a firm, hot suck. It was too much. She bobbed her hips up and down, circling against his straining erection and wicked, stirring finger, and exploded again in splendid climax.

She opened her eyes a moment later when she felt his mouth unclamp from her nipple. He stared down at her with a rigid expression, his finger still moving subtly against her slick clit, sending an occasional post-orgasmic shiver through her. Slowly, he withdrew his hand and drew her panties down to her thighs, holding her stare the whole while. His hand skimmed over her naked hip, and she felt the moistness of his finger. He held her steady and ground his cock against her ass. She bit her lip and whimpered at the feeling of his heavy, engorged flesh.

“I’m going to have to give you a little spanking, Emma.”

She shivered at the impact of his low, gruff threat.

“I know,” she whispered.

“Look out at the sea or I won’t be able to do it,” he said, white teeth flashing in a restrained snarl.

She turned her head, staring out the terrace doors onto the gently falling summer night. He moved back slightly. She missed the feeling of his pressing, throbbing cock. His hand skimmed across her bottom, caressing her. She held her breath in anticipation. His hand lifted and fell, lifted and fell, giving her upper buttock two crisp smacks, the cracking sound of flesh against flesh ringing out in the air. He paused and rubbed the stinging skin.

“Bring up your knees some and roll over on your hip,” he said, guiding her with his hands so that when she’d settled, she was still lying on her side and staring blindly out at the Mediterranean, but her waist was twisted slightly and her right knee was higher than the left, making her entire bottom more exposed. “That’s right,” he muttered, his hand making little circles on her ass. He cupped both cheeks in his palm before he landed several spanks in a row, peppering her skin with stinging slaps. She moaned and shifted her hips in arousal.

“Does it hurt?” he asked her tensely, massaging a buttock.

“No,” she whispered.

“Then hold still,” he ordered quietly. She bit her lip as he smacked her bottom several more times, his last spanks concentrating on the lower curve of her buttocks. He slapped up on the cheeks slightly, and she had the impression he was watching her flesh quiver from the small blows. The moan she’d been holding in escaped her throat when he suddenly pulled back one buttock.

“Stay still,” he said sharply when she flinched.

She forced herself into immobility despite her uncertainty. The cool evening air brushed across her asshole, but she imagined she could feel the heat of his stare in that intimate place more acutely. She waited, holding her breath.

He groaned roughly, and the next thing she knew, he’d wrapped both his arms around her middle and was pulling her against him. His long legs curled up to bracket hers from the back, and he was bouncing her in his lap.

“Oh God,” she moaned feverishly, because he’d pushed his pants to his thighs. His cock was exposed, and he was bouncing her ass against it. It was a tense, lewd, ridiculously exciting thing to do. Half-wild with arousal, she tried to reach around to grab his cock, but he caught her wrist.

“Fuck me,” she gasped, panting erratically. She ground down with her ass, making it clear what she wanted.

His groan this time sounded like it tore at his throat. He released his restraint on her wrist and put it on her hip, where he used it to circle her ass against his straining erection. “Have you ever done that before?”

“No,” she moaned.

“Are you just offering it because you think I need it? I can come with your hand or your mouth. Just by doing this a minute more,” he muttered bitterly as he jerked her into his lap again as her ass popped his cock and thighs.

“No,” she insisted desperately, looking over her shoulder. “I want it . . . if you do?” she finished the last on a shaky question.

He rolled his eyes, his beleaguered, “you’ve got to be kidding” expression making a laugh jump to her throat. He rolled away from her for a moment, reaching for the bedside table. She realized in his absence that a sheen of sweat covered her body and that things were very sticky between her thighs. He’d brought her to untold raptures since she’d known him, but she’d never before felt this hot. This raunchy. When he rolled back, he held a bottle of lubricant. She strained around to see what he was doing. He was pouring some of the clear liquid onto his fingers. He let the bottle fall to the bed between them and met her stare.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

She nodded, excitement trumping her wariness. By far.

“Then look out at the sea again and try to relax,” he urged. She turned slowly, the image of his hot stare lingering in her mind. He peeled back a buttock and pressed his finger to her ass. It felt blunt and warm and hard against that sensitive flesh. Her eyes sprung wide when he breached her. “Press back against my hand. Gently,” he instructed. His finger slid into her. “There we go,” he said soothingly. She stared blindly out the terrace doors as dusk fell in the hushed quiet while his finger moved in and out of her ass. Her clit began to sizzle again, as if his finger stimulated those nerves as well. He leaned down and spoke near her ear, his gruff voice an illicit caress. “Does your clit burn?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered feverishly.

“Then rub it. Make yourself feel good, because you’re so tight and hot, this is going to be heaven for me.”

Panting softly, she did what he said, rubbing her burning clit. He squeezed another finger into her, and she pressed and circled more rigorously. He moved his hand back and forth, finger-fucking her, pleasuring her, preparing her. She’d never been this aroused in her life. She craved that dark possession. It seemed as if it was the only thing that would satisfy her, she burned so badly.

“Slow down,” he ordered sharply. She blinked, realizing her fingers were moving faster and more forcefully between her thighs. He withdrew his fingers from her ass. Then he was parting her buttocks and presenting the fleshy, tapered crown of his cock to her asshole. She gasped. He’d obviously spread the lubricant on his cock, but he felt enormous in comparison to his fingers. “You can only come when I’m all the way inside you.”

“Will it work?” she asked in a choked voice.

“It’ll work,” he replied, and from the sound of his voice, she thought he was clenching his teeth. “Just flex into it. It might hurt for a second, but—”

He grunted when she pushed her ass back onto his cock. The thick head penetrated her. She cried out as a sharp pain went through her.

“Stay still,” he ordered, recognizing her cry for what it was, but in an agony of arousal with just the head of his cock clamped like a vise in her warm ass. “Is it better?” he asked after a tense moment.

“Yes,” she said in a small, muffled voice. He cursed silently. He really was an animal to be subjecting her to this when she hadn’t been feeling well. Yet he’d recognized her feverish arousal for what it was. He’d been right. Her unusually sensitive body was even more primed tonight than usual.

Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that to make yourself feel better? a nasty voice in his head taunted.

Her muscles tightened around him, and he grimaced as he tightly bound down the promise of white-hot bliss. “Touch yourself again,” he hissed. “Is the pain really gone?” he asked when she resumed rubbing her clit.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said.

“Good.” He leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “I’m going to go deeper.”

“Yes.” She faced away from him, but just the sound of her whisper feathered across his hypersensitive skin. His entire body felt prickly with life, his cock like a live, exposed wire. She felt decadently good. It wasn’t going to take much before he was exploding in her, which was a blessing for her. He didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she had been before they started making love.

“Then push back again,” he instructed grimly, firming his hold on her hip. He was in her now. There was no going back. No way in hell.

They moaned in unison when he gained another inch. He waited for her flesh to become accustomed to him. “Okay?”

“I’m fine,” she squeaked. For a second, he thought she was lying, until he noticed how rapidly her hand moved between her thighs.

“Hold still then,” he instructed. He began to fuck her with just the tip of his cock. She moaned loudly, and this time, he knew for certain it was in arousal, not pain. Jolts of pure, electrical pleasure went through him. Yes, this is what he’d needed ever since he noticed her slight withdrawal earlier. He hadn’t thought twice of it when she’d said she was on her period, but maybe on some level, he’d been disappointed. He’d needed to fuse with her in some way, feel her there with him on some deep, elemental level.

There was nothing more primal and poignant than this.

He fell down behind her, his head on the pillow above hers. He held her against him, absorbing the heat of her skin and her subtle shudders and the sweet, sharp whimpers that fell from her lips as he slowly burrowed deeper into her with each pass. A lavender dusk had fallen, the sound of the waves hitting the beach far below the cliffs sounding hushed and expectant. He stared out at the sublime night, holding her tightly, a feeling swelling high inside him. He wanted to let it out, to speak it, but he’d never felt it before—not to this degree. The incendiary quality of it made him wonder if it wasn’t dangerous, something to be held in, just like he strained to bind his mounting desire.

His resources failed him, though. His entire body tightened, his need ripping and tearing at his restraints when his pelvis bumped against her bottom. He took a moment to catch his breath.

“Can you come for me, Emma?” he asked on a ragged exhale.

“Yes,” she said in a high-pitched, quivering voice.

“Then do it. Let me feel you shake around me,” he grated out, hovering on the crumbling ledge of his restraint, bliss bubbling and boiling just beneath the surface, tempting him to fall. He waited, unable to breathe, his lungs burning in anticipation. When she cried out and shook, a rough groan scored his throat. He flexed his hips, fucking her in short, firm strokes, his pelvis slapping against her ass. He was a pure savage in those electrical moments, but Emma took him eagerly, absorbing his furious need . . . mounting it until he couldn’t contain it anymore.

Climax hit him, brutal and slashing.

It was like being ripped open by a slicing flood of feeling. For a crazed moment as pleasure buffeted him, he seemed to look down at himself from outside of his body. Laid open as he was, he saw there was more inside Vanni Montand than he’d realized.

But was it enough?