Chapter 19 #2
I nod, mulling it over. “You seem a little different to me too, actually.”
He swallows a bite of his steak sandwich and cocks his head. “Oh?”
“Just look at you. Sitting on the ground, eating with your hands. Drinking out of a bottle. You’re practically a savage.”
We both laugh, and Dante takes another swig of wine as if to prove my point.
“But no…it’s good to see you looking a little less buttoned up. A little more…human.”
“I’m not that bad,” Dante insists.
“Are too,” I say, reaching out to cup his cheek. “Always in control. Never a hair out of place, never a button undone—except to show how casually cool you can be.”
“You think I’m cool?” he says.
“Don’t get all full of yourself now.”
He sets the last bit of his sandwich down, reaches up, and unbuttons his top button. As he holds my gaze, he moves his fingers to the next button. He slowly releases that one, and then another, and another.
“I like where this is going,” I purr, leaning back to watch the impromptu strip show going on in front of me.
His shirt hits the ground, and I take in the delicious way his white undershirt clings to every muscle—of course he would wear an undershirt on a vacation day. He seems to know exactly what I’m thinking as he peels it up his torso and slips it over his head.
Standing, he leans down to pull off his new hiking boots. Next he grins cockily and unfastens his pants, letting them drop to the ground. My mouth falls open as he kicks them away and stands before me, buck-ass nude on the beach.
“Dante Bellanti, I do believe you are indecently exposed. And in public, no less.”
He spreads his arms wide and makes a little turn, showing off for me. His smile is so big, his whole body seems to smile too.
Suddenly, he takes off toward the water. He runs in confident, long-legged strides, barely slowing until the water reaches his mid-thigh. Then he dives in, disappearing for a moment and popping up farther out than where he went in, shaking water out of his hair.
I stand and watch, laughing as he lets loose an exhilarated whoop.
“How cold is it?” I shout.
“Slightly more than anticipated!” he yells back, splashing around.
Did he just make an actual joke?
“Come in with me!” he demands.
Cackling, I cross my arms over my chest. “Not on your life! It must be freezing!”
I’m never one to turn away from a challenge, but I draw the line at hypothermia. He disappears beneath the surface again and I kneel back down on the blanket to start packing up our picnic, stuffing all the boxes and napkins and foil into the to-go bag.
I’m just reaching for his discarded clothes when I hear the sound of crunching sand—just a fraction too late to react in time. Dante’s cold, wet, very strong arms wrap around me from behind. His lips are warm as he kisses the back of my neck and works his way to my ear.
“Didn’t you know that this is a nude beach?” he informs me.
“You better not,” I say, but he’s already unbuttoning the front of my sundress, sliding my denim jacket off at the same time.
In seconds, he strips me naked and lays me down on the sun-warmed blanket. I’m a little chilled by the breeze and the drops of lake water that fall off Dante onto my bare skin, but his body is hot as he pushes his cock into me, taking my face in his hands for a hungry kiss.
I don’t have time to think about what we’re doing or where we’re doing it as he thrusts in perfect rhythm. Soon there’s nothing but heat and skin and pleasure, and the sound of our moans.
This is making love. This is the thrill of the sky above, the earth below, and the man inside me, both grounding me and setting me free.
He works me with his cock, taking his time with his strokes so I can feel every inch of him.
I give it back in full measure, tensing the muscles at my core as I meet his every thrust.
“I love you,” Dante says, over and over again.
“I love you, too,” I tell him, emotion making my breath catch in my throat.
Our words pour out of us until we can no longer speak, only moan. I wrap my legs around his waist and cross my ankles, tilting my hips higher, helping him drive even further into me so we’re locked together, the sweet tension inside drawing tighter and tighter.
“Frankie—”
And then he’s coming inside me, groaning with every hot spurt, as hard and deep as I’ve ever felt him.
I dig my fingers into his back and hold him tight as he finishes, wishing I could draw this moment out forever.
He relaxes over me like warm clay afterward, sighing softly, his fingers trailing in my hair.
We lay like that until the breeze begins to cool us again.
After a while, he stands up and pulls me up with him.
Shaking off the blanket, he wraps us up in it, my back pressed against his chest, his arms around my waist. I drowsily lean back into him, feeling the rise and fall of his breath along with mine.
When his hand steals down between my legs, I laugh.
“Again?”
He gently pushes into me, his finger curling back to hit the spot that always makes me shiver. “No,” he says, his voice a low rumble in my ear. “This is just for you.”
As I stand and watch the wind ripple across the lake, Dante works me with his clever fingers, drawing me to a sweet and all-encompassing release. And when my knees give out with the strength of my climax, he’s there to keep me steady. He holds me tight the entire time.