he bent his head to her breasts, his tongue now touching where his hands had been, and Hannah clutched his head to her, nearly sobbing in pleasure at the feel of him tasting her.
But even that wasn’t enough. She needed more from him, of him, and when his hand slipped under her bunched dress, his fingers deftly finding and stroking her centre, she thought she almost had it. The pleasure was so acute it was akin to pain, a sharp ache that left her gasping. She skimmed the length of his erection, sucking her breath in at the way his body throbbed in insistent response to her touch. She pulled at his trousers, fumbling with the ties of his cummerbund, and with a muttered oath Luca ripped it away from him and tossed it on the sand. Hannah let out a gurgle of laughter that he swallowed with his mouth as he kissed her again and she gave herself to him, offering everything as her hands clutched at his shoulders and her hips rocked against his.
‘Hannah,’ Luca muttered against her mouth. ‘Hannah, I need...’
‘Yes,’ she answered almost frantically. ‘Yes, please, Luca, now.’
She parted her legs as he fumbled with the zip on his trousers. She didn’t have a second to consider if this was a good idea, if she’d regret this afterwards. She couldn’t think past the haze of overwhelming need that consumed her.
Then Luca was inside her, an invasion so sudden, so sweet, so much, that Hannah felt tears sting her eyes. It had been so long since she’d given her body to a man. So long since she’d felt completed, conquered. She wrapped her legs around him, enfolding herself around him as she accepted him into her body.
He stilled inside her as they both adjusted to the intense sensation. Luca’s eyes were closed, his arms braced by her shoulders. Then Hannah flexed around him and with a groan of surrender he started to move.
It had been a while, and it took her a few exquisite thrusts before she managed to find the rhythm and match it, and then with each thrust she felt her body respond, opening up like a flower, everything in her spiralling upward, straining towards that glittering summit that was just out of her reach—
Until she found it, her body convulsing around Luca’s as she cried out his name and the climax rushed over them both, their bodies shuddering in tandem, tears slipping down her face as she gave herself to the tidal wave of pleasure.
In the aftermath Hannah lay there, Luca’s body on top of hers, the thud of his heart matching her own. She felt dazed and dizzy and yet utterly sated. She couldn’t regret what had happened, not even for a second.
Then Luca rolled off her with a curse, lying on the sand on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. Okay, maybe she could.
Hannah felt a whole bunch of things at once: the cold sand underneath her, the stickiness on her thighs, the grit in her hair, the torn dress about her waist. The pleasure that had overwhelmed her only moments before now felt like mere vapour, a ghost of a memory.
She pulled her torn dress down over herself, wincing at the shredded gauze. To think Luca had spent nine thousand pounds on this one gown. Not that she would have had a chance to wear it again, even if it hadn’t been ruined.
Luca lifted his arm from his face and turned his head to rake her with one quick glance. Even in the moonlit darkness Hannah could see how indifferent he looked, and inwardly she quelled.
This had been a mistake. A wonderful, terrible mistake, and one she would most certainly regret no matter the pleasure she’d experienced. How could she work with Luca from now on? What if he fired her? But even worse than the fears for her job was the piercing loneliness of the thought that he might shut her out of his life. He already was, and she’d barely been in it to begin with.
She took a deep, calming breath and told herself not to jump to conclusions.
‘Your dress,’ Luca stated flatly.
Hannah glanced down at it. ‘I’m afraid it’s past repair.’
‘I’m thinking of getting back to the room,’ he clarified impatiently. ‘I don’t care about the dress.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ She bit her lip, trying not to feel hurt. This was a far cry from pillow talk, but then they hadn’t even had a bed. They’d had a few moments of frenzied, mindless passion that Luca undoubtedly regretted, just as she was starting to.
Luca sat up, readjusting his trousers and then searching for the studs on his shirt. He found enough to keep the shirt mostly fastened, and he stuffed his tie and cummerbund in his pocket. Then he shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
‘There. You’re mostly decent. Hopefully we can sneak into the room without anyone seeing us.’
‘And if they do?’ Hannah asked, thankful her voice didn’t wobble. ‘Wouldn’t they just think we’d done exactly what they’d expect us to do, and made love under the stars?’
Luca’s mouth compressed and he stood up, brushing the sand from his legs before he reached a hand down to her. She took it only because she knew she’d struggle getting up on her own. She was torn between an irrational anger—how had she expected Luca to act?—and a deep and disturbing hurt. She shouldn’t care this much. She hadn’t had feelings for Luca, not really.
Except somehow, in the last twenty-four hours, she had begun to develop them. She’d seen intriguing glimpses into a man whom she’d already respected and admired—glimpses of strength and emotion. She’d seen him determined and arrogant but also humble, concerned for her even while he was in the throes of his own emotional agony. Luca Moretti had depths she’d discovered this weekend that he hadn’t even hinted at before.
And he was hiding them all from her now. He dropped her hand the moment she was upright and started walking back towards the villa, its lights glimmering in the distance. Hannah followed him, clutching his jacket around her shoulders, wincing at the sand she could feel in her hair and clothes.
They skirted around the terrace that was now empty to the other side of the house, where the bedrooms’ French windows overlooked the beach.
‘You’d better pick the right room,’ Hannah muttered darkly. Hurt and anger were giving way to a weary resignation as she scrambled to think of a way to navigate this awful aftermath.
Luca didn’t even reply, just stalked ahead and then flung open a pair of windows and ushered her into their bedroom. Hannah stepped inside, her glance taking in the turned-down bed, the chocolate hearts on the pillows. Had it been only twenty-four hours ago that she’d been in this same room, this same position, except now everything felt drastically different?
‘Why don’t you get cleaned up?’ Luca said, nodding towards the bathroom without looking at her. ‘And then we’ll talk.’
LUCA SHRUGGED OFF his torn shirt as Hannah disappeared into the bathroom. What had he been thinking, slaking his lust with his PA? The trouble was, he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been utterly in the grip of his own awful emotions, and Hannah’s tentative comfort had been the balm he’d so desperately craved. It was only afterwards, after the most sexually and emotionally explosive encounter he’d ever experienced, that the regrets came rushing in. Regret to have slept with his PA at all, and, worse, shame that he’d allowed her to see him in such a vulnerable state. What must Hannah think of him? It had practically been a pity lay.
Except she had been just as gripped by the raw, urgent need that he’d felt consume him. She’d been just as desperate to have him inside her as he’d been to be there.
The knowledge didn’t make him feel any better. The whole thing was an appalling mistake, made about a thousand times worse by the fact that they hadn’t used any protection.
Hannah emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the same awful pyjamas she’d worn last night, but at least tonight Luca was grateful for the way they hid her body. The last thing he needed was to