Page 39 of On His Bride's Terms

Only then did he start to pull off her jacket, as she did his. Hands tugged and pulled at shirts. Snaps on jeans. Underwear.

It was raining outside now, lashing against the window from an ever-darkening sky, but they were oblivious.

Primo lay down on the bed and pulled Faye over him so she was straddling his thighs. He cupped her breasts and she moved up so he could put his mouth on them. Her back arched and Primo moulded her body, waist and hips. He dipped a hand between her legs and felt how ready she was, and he positioned her over him, holding himself in his hand as she lowered herself onto him with slow, torturous care until he was fully sheathed in her.

They both stayed very still for a moment. Breathing in the sensation.

Faye couldn’t look away from Primo’s eyes, even though she wanted to. Because even here, in this fevered moment, she knew she should protect herself but it was impossible. He demanded her full attention and she had to give it.

Slowly, she started to move up and down, building the pleasure for as long as she could stand it. Until their skin was slick and their breathing was laboured.

Primo let out a guttural sound, and then, ‘Faye, I can’t...you’re killing me.’

He put his hands on her hips and held her still, while he took over dictating their pace. Faye gave up any illusion that she’d had control at all and handed herself over to the primal rhythm that took over their bodies, bringing them to a soaring climax that had Primo sitting up and clasping Faye close, their bodies shuddering in unison as pleasure ripped through them and broke them apart.

Faye had a vague sensation of Primo collapsing back onto the bed, taking her with him, and she couldn’t fight the urge to sink down into endless ebbing waves of pleasure.

When Faye woke it was dusk outside. Low lights were burning. The bedroom was empty, the fire low in the grate. She noticed a robe on the bed, and once again Primo’s consideration made her chest feel a little tight. Her first husband had never thought of such small but important details. She’d put it down to the fact that they’d been much younger, but she knew in her heart of hearts that if her husband had been a good, kind person it would have been evident even then.

She pulled on the robe and went over to where the bathtub sat in front of the window, showcasing a magnificent view of the beach and the sea beyond. It was full of steaming water. Was that what had woken her up?

Faye pulled her hair up, slipped off the robe and stepped into the bath, groaning softly as she sank down into the hot water and it instantly soothed tender muscles.

There was a range of luxury toiletries, and then she noticed a glass of chilled sparkling wine. This decadence truly was next level. She never indulged herself like this.

She picked up the glass and took a sip, relishing the bubbles slipping down her throat. She washed herself and sank back, glorying in the moment, still a little unbelieving that Primo had arranged all this so they could have...ahoneymoon.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was meant to be getting on with her life and her work, and they were meant to be meeting up only at prearranged public events. But now...

Faye found that she couldn’t quite find the thread of thought she should be worried about and sank deeper into the bath.

After a few minutes she realised that she was hungry, so she got out and dried herself. She pulled on the most casual clothes she had with her—a soft, loose pair of trousers and a shirt. She wasn’t exactly prepared for this extended trip.

Leaving her hair up, Faye made her way down through the castle—thankfully it was on the modest side—to the kitchen and dining room area. She stopped in the doorway and her heart turned over before she could stop it.

Primo was dressed in low-slung jeans and a T-shirt, stirring something on the stove. There was an open bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. He looked outrageously sexy against the domestic backdrop, and Faye felt a little more of those precious defences crumbling into dust. At this rate she’d have nothing left to cling on to.

And then Primo turned around and she noticed the tea towel flung over his shoulder. Mentally, she sent up a plea to whatever gods were torturing her with this man.

Give me a break!

She came into the kitchen feeling shy. ‘Hi.’

He said, ‘I can’t claim to have done anything but put this over the heat and stir it. That’s about the extent of my domestic capabilities, I’m afraid.’

Faye’s nose twitched. It smelled divine. She came closer. ‘What is it?’

‘Apparently it’s Irish beef and Guinness stew. The housekeeper left it for us.’

Because they’d been too rampant to stop and discuss dinner with her earlier.

Faye busied herself finding bowls and plates. She poured the wine into glasses. The kitchen was large and pleasantly rustic, but with modern touches.

Primo dished the stew into the bowls. ‘You’re happy to eat here?’

‘Of course,’ Faye said. ‘There’s no point causing a mess in another room.’

They sat down and Faye ate some of the stew, closing her eyes in appreciation of the tender meat and delicious flavours. ‘This is amazing.’

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