Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
The bedroom door closed behind them. Inside, Bea caught the scent of sea air, fresh linen, and him. Moonlight cast shadows over the massive bed, centered and waiting.
Rafael prowled toward her. Her pulse skittered. The waiting was finally over, and she felt it down to the bone: he was going to take her apart. Anticipation tightened her chest, threaded with nerves she hadn’t expected after wanting this for so long.
His hands reached her first, touching only her bare arms. She thought he’d kiss her. Instead, he turned her gently, setting her back to him.
Pop.
The first button gave way. Then another. He undid them one by one. It was strangely arousing, and somehow excruciating too. Not pain, just the unbearable slowness of it, the sense of being unwrapped.
Bea closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing.
At last the dress loosened, slid from her torso, and pooled at her feet.
“Turn around.”
She obeyed.
Rafael’s jacket hit the floor. Then his waistcoat, then his belt, each piece removed with the same intent, until what remained was bronzed muscle and uncivilized power. After ten weeks of restraint, the memory of him felt almost mythic. Now he was before her. Real. Ready.
His tongue slid behind his top teeth as his gaze dragged down her body, and back up again. “Have you been waiting for me, little wife?”
Wife.
He said it like he tasted what the word gave him.
“Yes.”
“Good.” His voice dropped. “Do you want me?”
She nodded, mute with it.
“Show me how much.”
Every cell in her body begged him to touch her, but he held back. He was going to make her do it.
Bea’s hands shook as she slid her thumbs under delicate lace and eased it down, the fabric catching briefly on her thigh before it whispered to the floor. She reached behind, fingers fumbling, and unhooked her bra.
Cool air met her skin. His eyes descended, and a flush bloomed across her chest at the open hunger on his face.
She hesitated only a moment, then moved toward him, reached for his hand and guided it between her thighs.
Rafael found her. Warm. Wet.
“This much,” she whispered.
“You can pick your view.” His voice was rough. “The ceiling. The floor.” A pause. “Or the ocean.”
“The ocean?” she managed, the words slow to form, his fingers already stealing her focus.
“You’ll fog the glass,” he said, tone dark. “And I’ll watch your reflection come apart.”
She clutched his arms for balance. “That one.”
He didn’t give her time to think twice. His hand tipped her chin and his mouth took hers, hungry and unrestrained, and then she was up, the world dropping away as her legs wrapped around his waist without question.
He carried her to the window and braced her against it, one arm under her thighs, the other by her head.
The distance from the floor only underscored how easily he could handle her.
“I’m not going to be gentle,” he said tightly. “It’s been too long.”
Bea nodded, uncaring, and then he was pushing inside. She took him inch by aching inch, her body remembering too late how deep he went.
“Baby,” she said, clinging. “It’s too—”
He froze. “Say it again.”
She looked up, dazed. “Baby.”
Whatever she’d been trying to say disappeared when he drove into her. The next thrust stole her breath. The one after that pulled a sound she’d never made before. Her nails bit into his arms.
“Say it while I fill you,” he said into her ear.
The word fell from her again and again, reverent and undone. She clung to him, adjusting to the almost too-full stretch after months apart, and the sharpness only made it hotter, as if the waiting had given them back the dizzying edge of a first time.
“That’s it,” he said against her mouth. “Remember how much you can take.”
She came hard, body cinching, head tipping back against the glass. He didn’t stop until the aftershocks emptied her.
He lowered her gently to the floor, then turned her until she was facing the glass. “Hands up.”
Her palms met the cool pane, fingers spread. Her breath fogged it instantly.
Rafael gripped her hips and guided himself back in with a satisfied rumble.
“Ten weeks without this,” he muttered. He cupped her breast, the other arm wrapped around her middle. He took her harder this time.
The glass squeaked faintly with every thrust. Her reflection blurred in the fog, but she saw them. Her mouth was open, eyes glassy. His big body was behind hers, unstoppable.
“This is what you chose,” he murmured, hips grinding mercilessly. “Right here. Against the window.”
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Baby—”
That word snapped something in him.
His fingers found her, and she shattered again, a broken cry torn from her throat. Rafael groaned her name as her body clamped around him, and he gave in, spilling deep, hand splayed across her belly.
For a long moment, they stayed there, breathing into the dark, the window streaked with proof of their consummation. Then he eased out, scooped her up like she was something rare, and carried her back to the bed.
“Sore?” Ninety-nine percent smug. One percent contrite.
Bea let out a weak laugh, dragging her thumb along his jaw. “You could at least try not to sound pleased about it.”