Page 34 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

“Yes. Please. Help me.” She needed him so badly her hands shook with it. Somehow what had started off as a ploy to indulge in a few stolen kisses in the most romantic setting imaginable had escalated into an erotic encounter she would remember for the rest of her life.

Her hunger for Renzo went beyond any ridiculous promise to Pauline Wolcott that she would be more adventurous. Esme wanted him with a single-minded fierceness that took her breath away.

With the mixture of gentlemanly deference and absolute masculine arrogance she had come to identify as signature Renzo Cesare, he obliged her request with lightning speed. His fingers flew over the buckle and down the zipper, exposing himself to her gaze wearing nothing but silk boxers that seemed to be decorated like—-

“The Italian flag?” A smile hitched at her swollen lips.

“Gotta show my pride,” he managed, the words strangled as she laid her palm against his rigid length.

“You should be very proud,” she crooned in his ear, sliding her fingers beneath the silk to wrap her hand around him. “This is a very impressive salute.”

He sucked in a gasp as she skimmed a touch down his shaft.

And just as she’d hoped, he promptly ditched all talk of restraint.

Shifting her in his lap, he lifted her until she straddled him, her skirt covering their legs and concealing their intimate position beneath miles of gauzy fabric. Her sex nestled up to his, causing a delicious pressure, inciting a renewed ache.

She would have given him the condom she had in her purse if he hadn’t produced one from an interior pocket of his jacket. He tore through the packaging and rolled on the device with a speed and agility that surprised her. Pleased her.

Within seconds he lifted her against him, his strong arms stretching the fabric of his sleeves until it the silk lay taut against his biceps. Esme closed her eyes, focusing on the teasing proximity of his body as he positioned her right—

There.

He slid into her in one motion, filling her so completely she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Could only feel him deep inside her.

He nudged her thighs a little further apart with his hands, worked himself in by another millimeter. Just enough to hit the wall of her womb, to send a provocative shudder all the way through her.

And then he moved, lifting her up again so that he could withdraw by inches, lowering her back down again so she could feel the full import of his body inside hers. Despite the orgasm that had pounded through her earlier, Esme found herself restless all over again, the insidious movement between her thighs calling up renewed sensual heat. As if he’d read her mind, Renzo reached between them, plucked the swollen heat of her between his clever fingers to tease and torment her.

Esme gave herself over to his control, admitting that she didn’t mind Renzo’s supreme self-confidence when it came to this. Another day she could take charge. Right now, she wanted to follow where he led, to see where his delicious expertise would lead them.

The unbearable tightness coiled in her belly again, the aching need he could fulfill if only he’d—

He plunged into her again, his fingers never relinquishing the pressure on her heated center.

Esme flew apart with that one sharp thrust, the tiny contractions racking her body on the inside while every nerve ending went berserk on the outside. She rode the waves of pleasure, her hips grinding against his in unconscious rhythm until he howled with his own release, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her hips with primal ownership. He drew her tightly to him, sealing their bodies in a carnal union of pleasure, the sultry night air wrapping around them like a lover’s whisper.

Her head reeled, her body throbbed with the resonating pleasure. The scent of sex swirled around them, mingling with the mossy green fragrance that permeated the grotto.

Replete, she didn’t think she could move, let alone speak. And as much as she had enjoyed their unconventional location for a tryst, a part of her wished they were tucked safely in her bed where she could fall asleep in his arms.

Although that same scenario had unsettled her a week ago, Esme had since been able to glimpse a professional future for herself as an antiques broker and the experience had given her more confidence. Even a little daring, maybe.

No more would she be a woman to be trifled with, and Renzo seemed to have already adjusted his dealings with her to take that into account. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be so quick to rearrange her life or her electronics equipment if they were to spend the night together again.

Maybe the time had come to take another chance.

* * *

Long feminine silencesmeant big thinking for women like Esme.

While Renzo would have preferred to believe she lay against his chest simply reveling in the afterglow of sizzling sex, he knew her well enough to know that if she hadn’t moved yet, she was probably thinking big thoughts.

Like how to toss him out of the grotto without losing his business partnership.

At least, the last time they’d shared an intimate encounter, that had been the outcome. Esme had lain in her bed thinking about how to sidle out of the sensual terrain and put them back on professional footing.

This time, he’d spare her the trouble. Show her he was willing to play by her rules until she worked out whatever issues she had with overbearing males. Or—maybe— until he figured out a way to be a little less overbearing himself.

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