Chapter 63
Chapter Sixty-Three
RICCI
Eventually, it is time to leave the restaurant, but as we step outside, we notice the sky has turned heavy and dark, thick clouds rolling in low over the water.
I glance up, feeling the first cool shift in the air, and the breeze has picked up, carrying that sharp, electric promise of a storm.
I suspect it might come sooner rather than later.
I look at Viola, ready to suggest we head straight back, but she tilts her head toward the beach below and smiles at me softly.
“I know it’s going to pour soon, but I do want to walk on the beach with you,” she says, voice light but sure. “The evening’s already perfect, so I don’t mind a little rain…”
How could I say no to that?
We go, hand in hand, down the narrow path that winds from the terrace to the sand.
The night is lit only by the moon breaking through the clouds and the soft glow of lanterns hung along the villa’s private stretch of beach.
The only sounds are the steady crash of the waves rolling in and the soft crunch of sand under our feet.
The strong winds carry salt and the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine from the cliffs above.
I revel in how magical she looks in the moonlight.
She has kicked off her shoes with a small, happy laugh, and her green dress moves with her like liquid, the hem brushing her ankles as she walks barefoot beside me.
She looks dizzy with wine and happiness.
Like a beautiful sprite. I take her shoes in my hands and carry them.
The wind lifts her hair, loose tendrils dancing around her face, and every time the breeze presses the dress against her body, I lose my shit a little more. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts.
I stop, turn her toward me, and kiss her.
She melts into it instantly, her hands sliding up my chest to curl around my neck, her body pressing close.
The kiss deepens, slow and hungry, tongues sliding together while the waves crash behind us.
We kiss until the world narrows down to nothing but the taste of her lips and the warmth of her skin under my hands.
When we finally pull apart, her eyes are dark, lips slightly swollen, and she looks at me like I’m the only thing that exists.
We keep walking, the cool, damp sand shifting under our feet. The moon paints silver streaks across the water, and everything feels peaceful. Perfect. Just her and me and the endless rhythm of the ocean.
Then the drizzle starts.
At first, it’s light, soft drops kissing our skin, making her laugh with the joy of a child, but it quickly grows heavier. I tighten my grip on her hand.
“We should hurry now,” I say, already starting to pull her toward the villa.
She throws her head back and laughs, that bright, free sound I’m becoming addicted to. “Why? I want to stay.”
But I put her shoes back on her feet, and start dragging her along with me, protective instinct kicking in hard.
We make it back to the hotel lobby just as the rain really opens up.
She is still giggling and slightly breathless by the time we step inside.
The warm lights of the lobby wrap around us like a cocoon.
I can’t believe how much she makes me feel like a naughty kid, sneaking away from the world, stealing moments on dark beaches, kissing like we’re the only two people alive, running through the rain like children.
As the doors of the elevator close, she reaches for me and kisses me. Her kiss is deep, urgent, and hungry; her fingers are in my hair, and her body arches desperately into mine.
When we reach our room, I expect her to head straight for the bed or the shower, but to my surprise she grabs my hand and pulls me out onto our private patio.
The rain is beating down steadily now, the ocean is a roar below us, and the air is fragrant with the fresh scent of rain on stone and the faint earthiness from the vineyard just beyond the cliffs.
“Why be afraid of the rain?” she asks, her voice full of wonder as she steps out into it. “I’m with you, so it will most definitely be the best thing ever.”
My heart races in my chest as I watch her.
Her arms are outstretched, head tilted back, eyes closed, spinning slowly in the downpour.
Her dress clings to every curve of her body, soaked through and almost transparent now, the fabric molding to her breasts, her waist, the flare of her hips.
Water streams down her skin, and her hair is plastered against her neck and shoulders.
Tiny droplets catch on her lashes. She looks wild.
Free. And so stunning it steals every thought from my head.
I can’t hold back.
I cross the patio in two strides, pull her into my arms, and kiss her hard under the rain. She gasps into my mouth, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers digging into my shoulders as the water pours over us both. In that magical moment, I strip her naked right there.
Water streams over her naked shoulders, down the curve of her breasts, tracing glistening paths over her nipples, her stomach, the sexy curve of her hips. I can’t stop looking. I can’t stop touching.
I lift her.
She’s light in my arms, legs wrapping instinctively around my waist, heels pressing into the small of my back as I press her back against the wall.
The rain is still falling over us in steady, relentless sheets, cool droplets beating against my shoulders and back, running down my spine.
It mixes with the heat of her body, the contrast making every nerve ending feel alive.
I line myself up and sink into her in one deep thrust.
The fullness is so exquisite it makes my vision blur at the edges.
Tight, wet, perfect heat grips every inch of me as I slide home, stretching her open until I’m buried to the hilt.
She gasps at the brutal invasion, the sound loud and lusty, and her nails dig into my shoulders as her walls flutter and clench around me, trying to adjust to the stretch.
I hold still for a few long, shuddering moments just to feel the way she pulses around me, hot and slick and so fucking tight.
Then she starts to move.
Her hips roll against me, slow, testing, finding the rhythm she wants. I let her set it, my hands gripping her ass, supporting her weight as she rides me. The rain beats down on us both, cool streams running over her breasts, dripping from her nipples, sliding down the place where we’re joined.
I watch her face the entire time.
Every flutter of her lashes, every parting of her lips, every time her head falls back against the wall, and her eyes squeeze shut in pleasure.
I memorize it all. Her breasts bounce with every roll of her hips, water streaming over them, and I lean down to catch one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard, tongue swirling around the tight peak as she cries out.
I can’t hold back anymore.
I grip her hips tighter, fingers digging into her soft flesh, and start pounding up into her — hard, deep, relentless.
The sound of our bodies coming together is loud and frantic beneath the rain.
She’s shaking in my arms, moaning my name, when her eyes roll back as pleasure overtakes her completely.
“Fuck… Ricci…”
The sound of my name on her lips nearly undoes me.
I almost slip up and tell her I’m in love with her.
The words are right there on my tongue, burning, desperate, aching to be said.
But I manage to hold myself back at the last second, swallowing them down with a low groan.
Instead, I kiss her, devour her, swallowing every moan, every gasp, every broken cry as I pound into her.
My tongue slides against hers, claiming her mouth the same way I’m claiming her body, relentless and hungry.
I fuck her like that until I come hard inside her.