Page 78 of The Taste of Light
Grinning, Dante nodded and tugged Beatriz toward the house.
Pedro walked into the ocean, ignoring the water soaking his trousers. The sea and sky blurred into a bluish mass. "Ana."
She whirled, and a smile illuminated her face, sparkling her eyes. "You are back. Thank God!"
Pedro rubbed his chest. Who was ever so happy upon his return? He had been so intent on finding her that he had not noticed her clothes. Her short dress exposed her legs, arms, and curves. How was he to keep his restraint? The fairness of her skin in daylight threatened to dazzle him. He wanted her dewy lips rubbing against his, her wet skin gliding over his, her silky hair teasing his chest. "What are you wearing?"
She trailed her hands over the navy-blue fabric. "It's a bathing suit. The latest fashion from Paris. Do you like it?"
Pedro closed his gaping mouth. "Who bought you this?"
Her lips tugged up in a mischievous smile. "Why, Your Excellency, it was you. When you sent Beatriz to Barca D'Alva to provide me with a wardrobe, of course. She thought I would enjoy—"
Pedro jerked his chin in the house's direction. "You will cover yourself."
She sighed and pouted, her eyes twinkling. "But the water is so nice."
Pedro circled his hand around her forearm. Her moist skin slipped from his grasp, and she dove. Pedro held his breath, watching for her shape, but the foam made it impossible to see below the surface.
"Anne?" he yelled, his voice unsteady.
He tensed to dive after her when she emerged behind him. Laughing, she sprayed water on his shirt. He caught her, tightening his arms around her waist, but before he could taste her lips, she splayed her hands over his chest and pushed. Caught off balance, he splashed backward.
Holding his lapels, she came with him and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I've got you."
Surprised, he grappled for purchase, whipping his arms to keep afloat. Like a water sprite, Anne fled, long legs bared to the elements, and skipped back to shore.
Pedro stood, and coldness seeped into his skin as he watched her leave.
"Too old to catch me?" Her laughter reached him as she raced along the shore.
Panting, he gave chase. The sand sang beneath his heavy strides, the breeze ruffling his soaked clothes. He felt none of it. Not the salt in his eyes or the coat's drag, just this weightlessness, a sense of floating, of being able to follow her across the Nile, the Danube, the Rubicon.
She ran, pumping her elegant arms, hair flowing in rivulets down her back, her slim legs carrying her more up than forward. Pedro had never seen a person run more inefficiently or more beautifully.
She turned her head to see if he still chased, and their eyes met. It happened so suddenly that if he had not been so close, if the sun had not left the cover of clouds at that precise moment, if his soul had not been looking for it every second of every day for as long as he could remember, he would have missed it.
She gave him that look. Sultry and playful, woman and girl, Ana and Angel.
It was better than the statue, for it was real, and it was for him.
Pedro vaulted the distance between them. It would've not mattered if it had been an abyss. He caught her in his arms and pressed her to his chest. She laughed, the sound a little strained, and intertwined her fingers over his neck. After trailing his tongue over the seams of her lips, he plunged inside, exploring her warmth.
She was different, her eyes flashing, her hands lingering over his chest, setting him on edge and at ease, promising delicious things that would pierce his defenses but make him deliriously content.
He pulled away, breathing hard. With Anne, he had no control, his body demanding total possession. "The sun is setting. We will head back."
"I love the golden hour. When the sun rests behind the mountains, the colors turn brighter. A parting gift from nature to last us until dawn."
"I don't like sunsets." In the sun's absence, sins had a way of crawling from hell to haunt him.
She placed a warm palm on his cheek. "Let's saddle Hemera and Erebus. We can gallop east. The sun won’t set for us."
"Do you think we can run from shadows?"
"If you allowed me inside."
Her earnest plea wrenched open the hole she had made in his armor. What did she hope to find? If she but glimpsed his past, she wouldn't look at him as if he were the suitor of her dreams. The one she carried by her heart. Already she was a part of him he treasured unreasonably. A sensation of grasping thin air flooded him, and he kissed her desperately, drinking her moans like a parched man.
