Chapter One #2
But the moment he’d laid eyes on her, pieces of a messy puzzle that had been floating around him since forever finally fell into place, and something inside him went, oh, there you are. And from that moment, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
Only after she’d left did he come out of his trance and realize to sleep with her would be repeating an old mistake.
And he’d known if he were to be in the same room with her, alone, he would not be able to keep his hands to himself.
He had to remember she was a model and probably had a string of lovers.
He could have sent her a message, probably should have. But he owed her an explanation.
He reached her room and knocked on the door.
It opened, and every rational thought in his brain simply evaporated. Dressed in shorts and a halter top, her blonde hair falling messily around her, she simply took his breath away, scrambled his brain and his heart surrendered.
He stepped in, shut the door behind him, and then she was in his arms.
*
There wasn’t any time to catch her breath. She’d had a shower when she arrived in her room earlier, but she’d still been thinking about what to wear when there was a knock on her door.
She wasn’t prepared to find Darryn already standing there—it was way too early.
He was dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, his eyes had turned to liquid chocolate, and her knees buckled beneath her.
Before she could gather herself, his arms were around her, and he was kissing her like she had never been kissed before.
The smell of sunshine, summer, sandalwood, and spices surrounded her. Underneath her fingers, his heart tripped, her breath hitched in her throat as feeling took over from thinking, and her senses went into overload.
Her hands roamed over broad shoulders, reveled in the rippling of his muscles underneath her touch. She loved the hard contours of his magnificent body.
With a groan, he lifted his head. His eyes were smoldering as he gulped in air. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump you.”
She smiled, touching his face. “I’m not complaining.”
The words popped out before she could think about what she was saying. She was never this brazen. She was the shy one, the quiet one. But apparently around Darryn Cavallo, she turned into a completely different person.
His eyes darkened. With unsteady fingers, he lifted her hair from her shoulders, fisted his hand around it.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because if I kiss you again, I won’t stop. I don’t usually sleep with models,” he said and pressed her hair against his cheek, “but you…” His arms gathered her close.
“Well, then. What are you waiting for?” she whispered and boldly stepped between his legs. “And I… I’ve never slept with a photographer.”
*
He was a dead man. That was his last coherent thought before a red haze moved in front of his eyes, and the roaring in his ears made it impossible to think, to rationalize, to plan. Hannah fit perfectly against his body, as if she’d been made especially for him.
Without taking his mouth from hers, he moved backward until they both fell onto the bed. He kept her body above him and all that glorious blonde hair tumbled forward, cocooning them both inside a small world all their own.
He couldn’t get enough of her. Unsteady, frantic hands got rid of clothing and he was finally able to touch her skin, discover the contours of her lithe body, delight in her feminine curves.
Shuddering, his hand found its way down to her heat. She was wet and ready for him, burning for him, and he was lost.
With her breath in his ear, her long legs wrapped around him, he pushed into her.
Their eyes locked together. He tried to focus, he wanted to see every expression on her face, but her heat surrounded him and with a feral growl, he made her his.
He buried his face in her neck, and while silently freaking out, swore he heard his heart shattering into a million pieces.
*
Hannah’s eyes fluttered open a little later and she realized she would never be the same again. Ever. She was a different person than she had been last night. Darryn’s lovemaking had changed the beat of her heart, the rhythm of the way she breathed, had changed her very soul.
She turned her head. Dark brown eyes were watching her.
He smiled.
Her heart tripped. “Good morning.”
Hesitantly, he touched her cheek. “You’re real. For a minute there, I was wondering whether I was dreaming.” His voice was liquid chocolate, his hand not quite steady.
She’d thought the fire he’d lit inside of her last night had died, but sizzling embers burst into flame again and she pulled his head down. Immediately a whirlwind swept her up again and she was lost.
*
Hours later when she opened her eyes again, he was dressed in only jeans and was opening the hotel room door.
“Yes, that looks great. Thanks.” The next minute he pulled a trolley into the room. “Breakfast.” He looked at his watch. “Or a late lunch, rather. I don’t know about you, but I need food.”
Hannah sat up and looked around for something to put on.
He grinned and tossed her his T-shirt. “I don’t mind you being naked, but if you want to eat, you should probably put something on.”
“Oh, I want to eat,” she said and pulled the T-shirt over her head. It was way too big for her, but at least she was covered. It was difficult to act normal with his hot, brown eyes following her every move. She got out of the bed and moved toward the trolley.
“I wasn’t sure whether you’re a coffee or tea person, so I ordered both,” he said.
“Coffee, please, when I wake up, tea the rest of the day,” she said and poured herself a cup. “You?” She picked up the other cup.
“Coffee. Always. Can’t stand tea.”
“Coffee it is.” She handed him his coffee and curled up in one of the chairs, her legs tucked away underneath her. “Favorite food?”
*
By the time the tray was empty, they’d discovered they both loved Italian food, listened to rock music, preferred a Shiraz when they drank wine, couldn’t stand large crowds, and preferred to stay home rather than go out.
She would watch the odd whodunit movie, but preferred sappy love stories; he, of course, preferred thrillers, war movies, and spy stories.
But it was getting more difficult by the minute to focus on her questions. She’d moved in the chair and now the T-shirt had ridden up her thigh. His eyes had zoomed in on her exposed satiny skin and her voice was coming from further and further away.
“Tell me about your family?” she asked.
He got up and went over to where she was sitting.
“You really want to talk about family?”
Her eyes darkened with desire. She lifted her arms. “Not really.”
*
Much later, Darryn lay staring at the ceiling. Next to him, Hannah was still sleeping. He turned his head. She was lying on her tummy, the whole of her naked smooth back exposed to him.
For three days, he’d hardly left her side.
They’d finished the shoot yesterday, and since then they’d hardly left her room. He couldn’t get enough of her. Last night, he’d forced himself to take her out to dinner, but he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, and they’d left before their food arrived.
He’d been with her for three days and three nights, damn it! Surely he should have had his fill by now? This had never happened to him before.
Usually, he was very happy to say goodbye to a woman after one night, never mind how mind-blowing the sex had been. But this time everything was different.
She’d filled every aching hole he’d ever had, stilled every craving, and had made every single boyhood fantasy came true. Every time she’d moved, he put out a hand to make sure she was real, and once he’d touched her, he had to have her again. And again.
She was nothing like anyone he’d known before. He didn’t trust easily, but it was so easy to be with Hannah, to talk about himself, to share his thoughts and dreams.
And what they had together was so much more than mere sex—his mind, his soul, his very being became part of her.
He tried to take a breath, but it was difficult. Damn, he was freaking out. These feelings he was experiencing—they were too much, too intense, too bloody overpowering. What did he do with all of this?
He had to get out of here, away from her.
Thinking straight had been impossible over the last few days, and he needed to think. Silently, he got up and looked for his pants. Sneaking out after spending three days with a woman, having made love to her more times than he could count, was not something he thought he’d ever do.
But his mind and body were in overload and he needed to breathe. Somehow, he had to try and make sense of what he was feeling before he could speak to her again. Was this real, or was he simply imagining the strong connection they had?
Connection? Surely he couldn’t have fallen in love with her within the span of three days? That didn’t happen, right? After pulling on his pants, he grabbed his shirt while stepping into his shoes. Before he opened the door, he looked back at her again and very nearly walked back.
He quickly opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him.
“A nice piece of ass, don’t you agree?” he heard Stephen White’s voice near him.
“What did you say?”
“Did you find the butterfly?” Stephen snickered and sauntered away.
Stunned, Darryn looked after him while rubbing his chest. A sharp object pierced right through his heart. He couldn’t breathe.
Disappointment rose like bile and filled his belly. He grimaced. Damn, he’d gone and done it again—fell for a model. Would he never learn?
He’d found the butterfly all right, delighted in the tiny colorful mark on her butt. He thought he was the first to see it. But apparently not.
Coming to a quick decision, he walked briskly in the direction of his room while he took out his phone and punched in Don’s telephone number. It was time to move on.
*