Page 51 of The Tycoon's Shock Heir

And just like that she orgasmed—fully, powerfully, and with a suddenness that shook her to the very centre of her being.

She writhed and jerked and screamed. ‘Oh, Matteo...oh, my God,’ she called as the shock waves left her.

And then she was wrapped in a towel and carried through to the bedroom. Slowly he dried her, and kissed her drying skin, and then he knelt before her, proudly aroused and ready.

She sat up on her elbows, her mouth open in shocked delight.

‘Is it all coming back to you now?’ He smiled as he leaned over her, stretched his arms out, encircling her with his body.

‘That you have the woman of your dreams at your mercy?’

He chuckled. ‘You never give up!’

He nudged her legs open with his knee.

‘I never do. I’m what people call “driven”.’

‘You’re driving me insane right now, Ruby. That’s for sure.’

And he thrust himself inside her and she watched as his face registered the pleasure. And then she felt it herself, as she hugged her legs around him and let go of all her cares and worries and fears as it became only her and him and nothing else.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘THIS PLACE IS AMAZING. I’d no idea these little islands existed. How did you discover them?’ asked Ruby, sliding a forkful of delicious salad into her mouth and chewing happily.

It was dinnertime, and she was starving. They’d made love all afternoon and dozed until the sun began to dip and the light flooding into the sumptuous suite had turned from bright yellow to a gauzy orange.

His body was hers and her body was his. That was all she knew. She ached for him in a way she’d never believed was possible, but now, replete in his arms, she was aware of her mind starting to chatter its warnings. But she would not listen. She would not let those thoughts take hold.

Not yet.

She gazed across the candlelit table to where Matteo sat, lost in that world he disappeared into so often. His hair was swept back from his face and his smooth brow was gathered in a frown. The white shirt he wore was collarless, dipping low to the shadow of his chest, and loose enough to lend him the appearance of a brooding long-ago hero. She’d never seen him look more handsome.

He nodded out to the bay. ‘We did a lot of sailing when I was younger. There’s not an inch of these waters we haven’t been to at one time or another, the three of us—my mother and father and me.’

‘Is there any sport you don’t do?’ she asked.

It was a flippant comment, and she almost regretted it, but his mood was slipping into serious waters and she still didn’t want to navigate them. It was as if he was building up to say something. And she wasn’t quite ready to hear it.

Even if they both walked away from today, they would be forced back together many times in the future. What kind of relationship would they have? One with hot sex and then flights in opposite directions? Or would he cut it dead and dread the thought of seeing her again? File her under ‘No Further Action’.

Heart flipping and stomach churning, she forced a bright smile. They had to have a serious talk. She’d been pushing for it since this morning, but now that the moment was here she didn’t want to spoil things. She wanted to keep the illusion going a little longer.

‘Well? You swim...you play rugby. You box...’

He was looking steadily at her. He raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t do ballet,’ he said.

She caught the momentary flash of fun in his eyes and smiled back. ‘Our child will. Especially if he’s a boy. It’ll be the making of him.’

‘Now, that’s an interesting thought.’ He smiled. ‘And will you be one of those overbearing mothers, berating the coach, or whatever they’re called, because Matty Junior didn’t get picked for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy?’

‘You mean the ballet master,’ she corrected him. ‘And, yes, very probably. Don’t tell me you won’t be shouting at Little Miss Ruby from the touchline? What’s good for the goose...’

‘I can see we’re going to have some interesting times ahead,’ he replied, but it was quietly said, as if he was lost in other thoughts.

He touched his glass with his finger. There it was—his sign that he was ready to speak.

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