Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Vito
My control snaps.
It is not a thought. It is a reflex.
I don’t plan it. I don’t consider it. I just move.
My fingers close around her arm and I turn her, and she stumbles slightly with the suddenness of it, turning back toward me in a swirl of loose fabric and hair.
Her eyes are wide with shock, maybe something else too, and that shock is exactly what I want.
I should stop. I know I should stop.
But...
"You want impulsive?" I bite out.
I don't wait for an answer.
I yank her forward, curve my other hand around the back of her neck, holding her firmly against me, and kiss her.
It is not a gentle kiss.
It is a kiss meant to prove a point. Hard. Demanding. A bite of teeth, a frustration that has been coiling in me since I first saw her outside of church.
At church, I didn't let myself think about it. But once she moved outside of that setting, it's all I could think about.
She gasps against my mouth.
The moment she shoves me away I'm going to stop. This is only to prove a point, to teach her a lesson.
Her hands press against my chest, and I prepare myself for her to push me, shove me away. Maybe even scratch me. Something, anything, to get out of my grip.
What I'm not prepared for is for her to fist her hands in my shirt and yank me closer.
To open her mouth under mine and kiss me back with a matching fury.
For her to do everything but shove me away.
And for the life of me, I can't bring myself to break this kiss.
The world narrows to this: the press of her body against mine, the heat of her mouth, the faint, salty taste of her skin. The little sounds she makes in the back of her throat. Her hands sliding up my chest, over my shoulders, fingers digging in like she’s trying to anchor herself.
My other arm bands around her waist, lifting her slightly. The fabric of that loose top bunches under my hand, and the skin beneath is warm and soft. I feel the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine.
I drag my thumb along her jaw, tilting her head, deepening the kiss until I can’t tell where her breath ends and mine begins.
All my careful control, the iron discipline I’ve spent years honing, dissolves into nothing but raw, unthinking need. The sea hushes beside us. The curtains of the cabana stir.
I have no thought beyond her.
This was a mistake. A catastrophic, idiotic, impulsive mistake.
And I don't care.
I walk her backward until her shoulders hit one of the wooden support posts of the cabana. The impact is soft, muffled by the thatch overhead, but she still makes a small sound against my lips, a surprised murmur that vibrates straight through me.
I press her against the post, trapping her with my body. One of her legs wraps lightly around my thigh, a movement so natural it feels like it’s been happening forever.
My hand slides up her side, under her top, until my thumb finds the thin material of her bra. I trace the edge of it, then lower, my palm flattening against her ribcage, feeling the frantic beat of her heart.
I should stop.
God, I should stop.
Her breath hitches. My own breath is gone. I am on fire.
I want her.
God help me, I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life.
My lips leave hers to kiss a trail along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Her head falls back against the wood, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her neck. Her hands are tangled in my hair, her hips moving instinctively against mine in a rhythm that is driving me insane.
I nip at the soft skin under her jaw, then soothe it with my tongue. I can feel the frantic pulse beating there. A tiny, helpless groan escapes her.
That sound is my undoing.
My control, already in tatters, finally shatters completely. All the reasons I brought her here, all the rules I set for myself, the careful boundaries I was supposed to maintain—all of it burns away in the fire of this single, all-consuming need.
My hand moves from her waist, slides down the curve of her hip, then down her thigh, pulling her leg up higher around me.
I kiss my way back to her mouth, devouring her, and she meets me with a ferocity that is shocking, intoxicating.
Her hands drop from my hair, sliding down my back, her nails scraping through the thin material of my shirt, sending shivers across my skin.
This is madness.
A complete, undeniable spiral into madness.
I break the kiss just enough to pull the top over her head, tossing it carelessly into the sand. For a second, the ambient lights catch on the lace of her bra, the generous swell of her breasts spilling over the top, and I can’t breathe.
I slide my hand under her other thigh and lift her.
She gasps, her legs automatically locking around my waist when I hitch her up higher and press her back against the post. Her eyes are hot, her lips swollen from my kiss, her hair a mess from my hand.
I look into those dark, intelligent, infuriating eyes and see my own ruin staring back at me. It should terrify me.
The slit of her skirt falls open, and I can feel the damp heat of her pussy as her legs tighten around me. My mind goes blank with a hunger so strong it feels like violence.
I want to ruin her.
I want to consume her.
I want to be consumed by her.
My mouth claims hers again in a kiss that is all teeth and tongue and desperation, and I’m done for.
I’m so, so done for.
Her hips continue their rock against mine as she moans into my mouth, and it's the most beautiful, most dangerous thing I’ve ever heard.
My hand moves up the inside of her thigh. My thumb brushes against the soaked fabric of her panties.
She makes another sound—this one a high, breathy keen, and she bucks against my hand.
I slide my fingers beneath the wet lace of her panties and find the slick heat of her, my thumb brushing over her clit. Her breath hitches again, her eyes fluttering closed as I start to circle it slowly.
Her nails dig into my shoulders.
I keep up a slow, relentless rhythm, watching her face.
The little catches in her breath.
The way her lips part as the pleasure builds.
I slide one finger inside her. She’s impossibly tight. My name is a choked whisper on her lips.
Then another finger.
Her head falls back against the wooden post, pushing her breasts, barely contained in the little lace thing, up toward me as her hips rock against my hand.
Don't mind if I do.
I lean down, my lips closing around one tight, beaded nipple through the thin lace, flicking my tongue against it.
“God,” she gasps, arching into my mouth. She starts moving faster, harder, her breath coming in ragged little sobs as she chases her release.
I keep driving her up, my fingers thrusting, my thumb circling, until she's shaking in my arms, until her cries are desperate and broken, her whole body coiling tighter and tighter.
Her eyes are closed, her expression completely unguarded, lost to pleasure. For once, there's no analysis. No deconstruction. No psychological chess. Just her, right here, with me.
“Vito,” she sobs, her fingers sliding in my hair and holding me closer to her chest. I switch to her other breast, but this time, I pull the lace down with my teeth before my tongue rasps across her nipple.
She cries out again. “Don’t stop.”
I suck her nipple hard into my mouth, grazing it with my teeth. She’s so close. I can feel it. Her body is a bow pulled taut, trembling on the brink.
"Is that what you want?" I murmur against her skin. "Is that how you like it?"
Her only response is another incoherent cry as she rides my hand.
"Keep doing this? Hmm? Keep making you feel this good?"
“Yes,” she gasps, her hips moving wildly now. “Yes.”
Then, I bite her. Lightly. Just enough to make her gasp again.
"You sure? You don't want me to be stop? This is pretty... impulsive of me, isn’t it?"
I tease her softly while I work my way back up to her mouth. "You're the one who asked for impulsive. You kept pushing and pushing and—."
"Vito, so help me, if you stop—"
"I could be even more impulsive and leave you right here," I murmur. My tongue traces the line of her jaw. "All needy and wanting."
I press my thumb harder against her clit, and she shudders.
"Leaving you with nothing but the memory of my hand between your legs."
"No," she sobs, her body trembling. "I need more!"
"More?"
I kiss her again. Hard. All-consuming. When I break away, her head is thumping back against the post, her chest heaving. Her fingers twist in my hair.
"More," she repeats, her hips bucking against my hand. "Harder."
A dark satisfaction curls through me. This is the real Teresa.
The one underneath the degrees and the composed exterior. The one who isn't afraid to ask for what she wants.
And I am more than happy to give it to her.
I shift my hips, spreading my legs a little wider for better leverage. "I’m not giving it to you hard enough?” I growl, my gaze dark and intense on hers. Her eyes are glazed with lust.
She shakes her head, her lips parted, unable to form words.
"Then let's see if this does it for you."
My other hand slides from her hip to her ass, my fingers digging in just enough to hold her still. I look into her eyes as I pull my fingers back and thrust them in hard, deep.
I start to fuck her with my hand in earnest. Each hard thrust of my fingers pushes her higher. The slick, wet sounds of her body accepting mine fill the quiet night air, mingling with her choked moans and the endless hush of the waves.
I lean down and lick her bottom lip before biting it gently.
"Is this better? Hmm? Is this what you wanted?"
She answers me by rolling her hips in a way that sends sparks through my entire body.
"That’s it," I breathe, my voice rough. "Just like that."
I’m so hard it hurts, trapped in my pants, but this isn't about me. This is about her. About shattering her composure.
About erasing that smart, composed doctor from my mind and replacing her with this writhing, beautiful creature in my arms.