Emma said she’d put on some sunblock, but he grew concerned looking at her flawless, smooth skin as she lay next to him with her eyes closed. Even with his sunglasses on, she looked vulnerable to the ruthless Mediterranean sun. He could even see a few delicate blue veins just below the pale skin at her exposed hip bone. And the skin on the plump upper swells of her breasts—the skin that rarely saw sunlight—looked especially pale and creamy. He thought of how she’d looked this morning on the dock while he’d held her beautiful breasts in his greedy, dark hands, the mouthwatering pink nipples poking between his pinching fingers.

In a flash, all of his anguish, all of his lust reared up like a striking snake. His cock stiffened. He jerked his gaze off of her and stood. He knew Niki kept an assortment of sunscreens and oils in a cabinet in the bar area. It wouldn’t hurt to put more on her. He didn’t want to see her burned and uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem fair to insist she stay in the shade on such a gorgeous day. Emma opened her eyes and shielded them with her hand when he returned and lay back next to her.

“I’m worried about you,” he murmured, holding up the bottle of sunblock.

“Are you?” she asked softly. He glanced into her face while in the process of pouring some of the white lotion into his hand. “That’s funny, I thought I should be worried about you.”

He reached, rubbing the lotion onto a smooth, sun-warmed thigh. He found himself staring at the small, red triangle of cloth covering her mound. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

“Really?”

“Do you think I’m going to burn?” he asked dryly, glancing up into her face. He looked away when he saw her slight annoyance and worry at his flippant reply. As he rubbed lotion into her other thigh, he glanced up and saw Ari Carboni watching him with fixed intent as he massaged lotion into Emma’s hip. Lecher.

But what could Vanni expect, really? Ari carried the Carboni hot blood. He was a relation to Cristina, after all.

He gritted his teeth at the reminder of the things Emma had said that morning, doing his best to ignore his swelling erection. It annoyed him, but he understood perfectly why the men were either glancing their way or staring, in Ari’s case. Emma looked more naked than the other women, somehow. There was an illicit quality to her bikini-clad, lithe, curvaceous body, like the jolt that went through a man when he accidentally caught the sight of a woman undressing. The other women were beautiful, yes, but there was no mystery to their gilded skin and exposed breasts, no challenge. Whereas Emma’s innocent beauty held some secret, some sexual enigma he couldn’t quite grasp with words.

He knew firsthand what it was like to thirst for the answer, though, aching to find it in her deep, warm depths.

He glanced up and saw Ari’s rigid expression as Vanni cupped her waist and rubbed lotion along the sweet swell of her hips that he prized so much . . . that his cock adored.

“Vanni?” Emma asked, her voice just above a whisper.

He glanced up at her face. She blinked in surprise. He realized he’d been snarling a warning at Ari.

“Yes?” he asked, forcing his face into impassivity.

She bit her lip in a gesture he recognized as an anxious one. “Should I take off my top?” she whispered.

He blanched, his gaze unerringly lowering to her breasts. Her nipples were erect against the relatively insubstantial fabric of the bra. Was she growing as aroused as he was, touching her? Or did she enjoy Ari’s attention on her? The thought scalded him. He poured more lotion onto his hand and began to apply it to her arms.

“Do you want to?” he asked evenly, rubbing up and down on both her upper arms at once, the rhythmic movement striking him as sexual. Everything was striking him as sexual. His cock swelled tighter. Dammit. What was wrong with him? The hot summer air surrounding him suddenly felt thick and electric. He couldn’t get enough oxygen in his lungs.

“I don’t know. I just feel . . . so American.”

“You are American,” he replied drolly.

“I’ve never equated the word with feeling like a Puritan until now,” she said under her breath.

“I like your Americanness just fine,” he said stiffly, rubbing some lotion on her chest, “but if you want to go topless, do it. As you see, it’s the custom.”

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Why didn’t he just tell her to take off the top? He’d sunbathed with girlfriends going topless hundreds of times while he was in the South of France, never thinking more of it than Niki did about Georgia.

Emma was no different.

The emotion he’d been tamping down since this morning threatened to swell higher. He gritted his teeth. She was different. He liked everything about her. He adored her freshness and sexy sweetness and otherworldly wisdom. So how come he wanted to punish her for those things she’d said this morning? How come he wanted to hurt her a little for hurting him? He knew she hadn’t meant to cause him distress. He knew she was kinder and just . . . better . . . than anyone he’d known since he was an adult.

Ever known.

But he still wanted to see her undone, just a tad anxious . . . not to mention writhing with excitement, whimpering in pleasure.

His fingertips brushed across the tops of her firm, thrusting breasts. He felt the pulse in his cock. In the distance, he noticed Niki get up and ask everyone if they wanted refreshers on their drinks. He didn’t look around even when his friend called, “Van? Emma?” Vaguely he was aware of Emma shaking her head. He stared fixedly at the pale mounds of her breasts as he rubbed them with his fingertip. Her nipples were growing more and more erect beneath the fabric. He glanced up to her face and saw that her lips were parted as she stared down at him. She was so exquisite.

Too exquisite. She was a threat, somehow.

He reached up abruptly and untied the strings at her neck. “It’s not a big deal,” he lied. He lowered the fabric, exposing her creamy, firm breasts and tight nipples. The vision taunted him. They looked so delicate . . . so naked. In the periphery of his vision, he noticed Ari start slightly and place his hands on the arm of the lounger as if in preparation to spring up. Every muscle in Vanni’s body tensed.

“Fuck,” he muttered savagely, jerking the strings back up around her neck and tying them off hard. He’d been willing to expose her to assure himself it didn’t matter . . . to convince himself she didn’t matter.

“Vanni?” Emma asked, clearly bewildered by his actions. He flung himself off the lounger and grabbed her hand. She rose and he headed with a single-minded purpose toward the stairs. He ignored the others when they looked around. They didn’t exist. Only Emma did, and this strange, boiling need inside him that was about to erupt.

Emma’s gaze skimmed across the others’ startled faces as Vanni pulled her to the staircase. Estelle whipped off her sunglasses and followed their progress across the deck with a livid scowl. Her husband, however, looked pleased.

“Van?” Niki stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding a bag of ice. He looked from Emma’s dazed expression to Vanni’s rigid, furious one. “Oh,” he said, blinking in amazement. “Downstairs, first door on the right.”

Heat flooded her cheeks when without another word, Vanni pulled her down the next level of stairs. Emma looked back at Niki.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

A strange expression broke over Niki’s handsome face. He looked pleased. “Don’t be,” he said emphatically.

Vanni marched across the living room, a man on a mission. Her heart was about to pop out of her chest, it was thundering so fast against her breastbone when he pulled her into a room and slammed the door shut behind her. The snick of the lock in combination with his burning gaze sounded ominous . . . thrilling.

Emma had a fleeting impression of a luxury suite with gleaming mahogany wood and a king-sized bed. Then Vanni was reaching behind her neck and tearing open the knot he’d just made up on the deck. He jerked the bikini top down over her breasts and pushed her toward the bed. Emma spilled backward, her knees at the edge of the mattress. He came down over her, his hands planted next to her shoulders, elbows bent, his lower body pressing her down into the bed. One second she’d been standing, and the next his mouth was enclosing her breast. She gasped at the impact of him, his hot suck on her sensitive flesh, his rigid, laving tongue on her nipple. Liquid heat flooded her, answering his fierce, wild demand. She felt his cock jump against her thigh. He flexed his hips, grinding himself against her, unapologetic in his need.

She understood this was the same fire that had raged in him on the dock. It leapt up even stronger now, more furious because it had been banked and forced to simmer under wraps. She was more than willing to be the focus of his distilled desire and chaotic emotions. She wasn’t afraid of him; her own need more than matched his.

He gathered both of her breasts in his hands and plumped them for his ravening mouth. He lifted his head after a moment and switched his target, latching on to her other nipple and drawing on it so precisely, so sweetly, that she clutched at his head in rising desperation and flexed her hips, pushing her sex into the bed to get an indirect pressure on it. As if he felt the give in her flesh, he ground against her, his cock feeling like a long, heavy poker throbbing beneath the thin layer of his trunks.

He lifted his head a moment later, still squeezing her breasts in his hands. She stared down at him, panting. He seemed transfixed as he stared at her, his thumbs rubbing her slick, erect nipples. Her clit pinched in arousal at the vision, and she whimpered. His avid stare transferred to her face.

“Why are you doing this to me?’ he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the question for some reason. His nostrils flared, his mouth slanting as if he found her answer wanting. He shifted his weight to the side of her and reached for the bikini top, which was still fastened below her breasts. He whipped the material off her a second later and pushed himself off the bed.

“Come here,” he said, his mouth hard but his touch on her hand gentle enough as he pulled her into a sitting position. “Stand up. I’m going to tie your hands behind your back.”

She stood, eyeing him warily. Nevertheless, she turned her back to him and let him bind her wrists at her lower back with the skimpy fabric and strings of her bikini top. He spun her back around with his hands on her shoulders. She opened her mouth to ask him what he planned, but suddenly his mouth was covering hers and she was enveloped in his angry, hot consumption.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked him a moment later when he abruptly ended their kiss.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he snarled. “Yes. You’re making me feel so damn . . .”

“What?” she whispered when his deep voice caught.

“Alive,” he grated out, his eyes a little wild. “It . . . hurts.”

“Vanni—” she whispered, confused and concerned by his words, but he was having none of her compassion. He was single-minded in his desire to burn. He pushed lightly on her shoulders.

“Go down on your knees,” he said.

She blinked, considering denying him. But then she looked into his eyes and saw all the anguish and confusion and white-hot need exposed there. She’d done that, by insisting they talk about Cristina and her dying words. His feelings were natural. What’s more, they were as right as a storm letting loose after all that pressure built for so many years.

She let her weight go. He felt it and tightened his hold on her shoulders, guiding her to her knees. She stared at his crotch. Only his swim shorts covered his cock. It was tenting the fabric, trapped by it, straining to be released. Vanni liberated it with a vicious jerk of the shorts out over his cock and down to his thighs. His erection sprung free, heavy and tumescent. He stepped toward her, his hand cupping the back of her head. She looked up at him as he fisted the thick shaft and lifted it to her lips. What she saw in his blazing eyes made her want to cry. There was an apology shining through all that feral heat. He needn’t be sorry. She understood his exposed pain, maybe more than he did.

She opened her lips and he guided his cock between them. They stretched around his girth as he pushed the fat, turgid crown across her tongue. A rough groan rattled his throat when she polished the head with her tongue. He flexed his hips back, withdrawing, only to pierce her mouth again. She strained to bathe the shaft with her tongue, but he tightened his hold on her head, gripping at her hair.

“Stay still,” he rasped. She did as he asked while he plunged the first several inches of his cock in and out of her mouth rapidly. Heat spread in her cheeks. Her pussy tingled. She kept her lips a rigid ring around him, but otherwise, he wouldn’t let her do much . . . except be the target of his desire. For some reason, being forced not to move made her crave his cock more. Her tongue pressed hard up against that delicious, quarter-inch-thick ridge below the fat crown. He groaned and his fingers flexed tighter in her hair. She clamped his cock so hard her mouth hurt and sucked until her cheeks collapsed from the vacuum.

“Holy . . .” He said something else, but it was on a groan and she couldn’t make it out. Holding her head firmly, he flexed, sending his cock further into her mouth, filling her. Overfilling her. Her eyes opened wide, but then he was granting her a reprieve. He was back almost immediately, though. This time, she continued to suck hungrily, needing him. The tip touched her throat and she gagged reflexively. He withdrew, but she craned forward, not letting him escape so easily. He loosened his hold slightly on her hair, and she felt it. She ducked her head back and forth, taking him a fraction of an inch further each time, her craving overcoming her body’s instinct to reject him. She found it grew easier with each pass.

“Dammit, Emma,” he bit out above her, and then he was holding her still again, but his cock kept coming, driving into her mouth, wild and ruthless. She let herself be the center of the storm for a stretched moment, surrendering to his need.

A vicious curse ripped out of his throat, and his cock was sliding out of her mouth. It was jarring, to be so suddenly empty of him. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, confused. His mouth was slanted in a thin line. He reached down, lifting her with a hand beneath her elbows. His jutting, damp cockhead pushed against her belly when he leaned down over, untying her top and freeing her wrists.

“Why do you always have to test me?” he growled, jerking impatiently at the strings.

“I thought you said I always seemed out of your reach,” she said dazedly, her throat raspy from taking his cock so deep. “I was just trying to show you I’m not.”

He ripped the top over her hands. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Right now, take off the panties and go lie on the bed.”

Panting softly, she did what he said, her anticipation and wary excitement building by the second. She lay on her back on the mattress, her head on the pillows.

“Move to the center of the bed,” he said. “And spread your thighs.”

He waited until she’d taken the position before he shoved his shorts off his legs. Cupping his jutting erection from below, he stalked toward the bed. He flicked his hand over the length, sending a hot stab of excitement through her, before he came onto the bed on his hands and knees, kneeling over her. He reached between her thighs and palmed her outer sex, almost immediately sending his middle finger into her slit. She gasped, staring up at him, helpless in her desire as he finger-fucked her.

“You’re soaking wet,” he grated out, white teeth flashing.

“I told you I was no angel,” she choked wryly.

“But you are,” he snarled, withdrawing his finger and grasping his cock. “Sent here to test me. Now . . . spread your thighs farther.”

He placed one hand on her inner knee and pushed back firmly so that her thigh rose and her hips rolled back on the bed. He presented the head of his cock to her slit, flexing, forcing her to part for the swollen tip. His hand made a swiping motion, scattering the pillows next to her head off the bed before it settled next to her head. He held her stare, his gaze blazing, as he slowly thrust his cock into her. She clenched her teeth at the hard, relentless pressure. A muscle jumped in his cheek. His balls pressed tight against her outer sex and she bit off a scream.

“Put your hands above your head,” he said. “Hold on to your wrists. You’re not allowed to move them. I can’t take your hands on me right now.”

She did what he’d directed, feeling full and incendiary. She held her breath; there wasn’t room for air and Vanni’s furiously throbbing cock in her body.

“I’m going to fuck you hard. I can’t help it, Emma,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.

“I know,” she whispered. “I want it.”

His face collapsed for a brief second, the vision making her heart squeeze in anguish. Then he was drawing his cock out of her to the tip and thrusting deep again, and then again, a wave pounding at the shore relentlessly. She bit her lip to stop from screaming. His intensity and arousal were such that it was slightly uncomfortable. But she lifted her hips for him nevertheless, wanting this. Needing it. She held her breath as the headboard began to rock against the wall as he drove into her, and she stared up at the wild, fierce expression on his face. Rabid lust had turned his already supertoned body into a rigid coil. Lean muscle bulged against smooth skin, only adding to her impression that he was about to explode. She bobbed her hips, matching his fast tempo. Slowly, the uncomfortable pressure morphed into a sizzling burn.

“Fuck,” he snarled, feeling her excitement. He switched his hands to her wrists, pushing her hands into the pillow. He extended his long legs on the mattress and reared up over her. Emma clenched her eyes shut, intuiting what was coming. He came up on his toes and the balls of his feet, driving his cock into her with the power of his whole body. He fucked her like that for several heart-stopping moments, the headboard clacking loudly against the wall, Emma keening uncontrollably. The friction he built in her sparked and flared. She shook in climax as he power-fucked her, seeking his own relief with blind desperation.

He roared as he came, the harsh sound blistering her ears and echoing in her skull. He caught his breath and thrust into her again, another shout tearing out of his throat. She’d never witnessed him more savage.

She’d never seen him so beautiful.

He collapsed down over her after a moment, gasping wildly for air. In his momentary weakness, she broke free of his hold on her hands. She put her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Something swelled in her chest, something sweet and huge and agonizingly sharp.

“Shh,” she soothed, rubbing his back muscles, feeling his ribs expand and contract as he fought for air. His head fell between her neck and shoulder. She could feel the puffs of his warm breath against her skin.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her fingers delving into his thick hair. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

His panting ceased, his rib cage convulsing, before he exhaled again roughly. “I want more time.”

“What?” she asked, her hands freezing.

“Give me more time,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

“I . . . We can talk about it later,” she fumbled. He lifted his head and scored her with his stare. “Don’t, Vanni. Don’t make me decide right now.”

“Why?” he asked, still panting. She felt cornered by the single word and all its meanings.

“Because it’s already happening . . . what I didn’t want to happen,” spilled out of her throat. It was hard to withhold the truth after his fiery, honest lovemaking. He stilled.

“What? What’s happened?”

“I’m starting to fall in love with you,” she said desperately. “It may already be too late.”

His expression flattened.

“Emma,” he whispered fiercely. He shook his head incredulously. “How can you say that to me after what I just did to you?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I think that’s what popped it out of me.”

He stared at her, his face rigid with shock. Then his mouth twitched. His smile broke free at the same time hers did, a brilliant radiance after a storm. An unpleasant thought intruded, but it couldn’t entirely erase her grin.

“What your friends must think of me . . .” she whispered, trailing off as she mentally answered her own question.

“If anything, they’ll think I’m the rude caveman, hauling you off like I did. Rightfully so. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he added darkly under his breath. “And they really aren’t my friends, except for Niki. And he’ll only be glad something has broken me out of my funk.”

Emma thought of how stunned Niki had looked when Vanni charged down the stairwell just now, dragging Emma after him, then how pleased; how he’d called out “don’t be” when she’d apologized for their rude exit from the party.

“You know, I think you’re right,” she mused.

“Of course I’m right. Emma, the whole idea of you walking away at the tick of a clock is ridiculous.”

She opened her mouth to say he was supposed to be walking away, too . . . that he’d taken pains to warn her that he would, but then he was kissing her, deep and sweet, and her thoughts flew away like scattered moths.

She knew only one thing for certain. Despite her thoughts about feeling compelled to the truth just now, she’d lied.

She wasn’t starting to fall. She’d already landed.

Good and hard.