An Invitation to Sin(60)
Taylor Carmichael.
Her stomach gave a little lurch and just for a moment she heard her mother’s voice telling her she shouldn’t be doing this, that she should be thinking of her image, that she shouldn’t be trusting a man, but the voice seemed further away than usual, barely a whisper, and when Taylor listened again it was gone. Smiling, she pulled away from him and plunged back into the water.
She’d waited too long for this. Too long to deny herself this moment and as her arms cut through the cool water she realised she was smiling.
The moon sent arrows of light onto inky dark water and she knew from the soft splash next to her that Luca was adjusting his pace to stay level with her.
They swam until her limbs felt tired and her eyes stung from the salt water. Reluctantly she left the water, picked up her T-shirt and dried her face. Then she twisted her hair into a thick rope and squeezed out the water, conscious of him next to her. Conscious of every beat of her heart and the movement of her breath through her lungs.
She’d thought she was immune to this. She’d worked with hot men for her entire career and these days had no trouble resisting them. But this was different and she knew it wasn’t his looks that drew her—it was his hunger for living. He ate it up, devoured everything life had to offer without regret or apology, and she admired that and wanted it for herself. She wanted to live like this every day.
Her heart gave a little leap although whether it was nerves or excitement, she didn’t know.
All she knew was that she wanted him.
She pulled his head down to hers and his mouth closed over hers with no hesitation, hot and demanding.
He scooped her wet hair away from her face, his sinfully clever mouth fierce on hers, and she kissed him back with the same desperation, feeling something unravel inside her.
Instead of hearing her mother’s voice she heard nothing but her own heartbeat, her own desires, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body aching for his, so aroused she couldn’t think straight. She held nothing back, gave him all that she was as they kissed hungrily, bonded together by mutual desire and chemistry. She sensed that he was no more in control than she was and she heard him groan as she slid her hands down his body, savouring the feel of hard male muscle.
‘You’re killing me, Teresa.’
Laughing, breathless, she pushed him backwards and they tumbled together onto the soft pile of clothes they’d abandoned before their swim. ‘I haven’t even started. You’re driving me crazy.’ She licked at his chest, tasted the salt of seawater on her tongue and then moved lower until his breathing changed, until his hands tangled in her wet hair, until he took control and shifted her onto him.
She straddled him in the moonlight, her damp hair trailing over his chest, her eyes fixed on his as she took him deep, her lips parting as she felt the thick, hot pulse of his erection inside her. His hands gripped her hips and they moved together in a perfect rhythm as if this intimacy was something they’d shared forever.
‘Cristo, Taylor,’ he moaned her name. Her name. Taylor, not Teresa. The pretence had long gone as had the humour. His passion was every bit as dark as hers. They were both deadly serious, wrapped up in each other, oblivious to anything and everything but the moment as they rode the excitement until it exploded and took them over the edge and he caught her head in his hands and drew her mouth to his. And she discovered a kiss wasn’t always about sensual manipulation. Sometimes it was a gift.
And as the madness faded she curled against him, her body dampened by sweat and sea as her heartbeat gradually slowed and steadied.
‘I’ve wanted to do this for so long.’
There was a pause and then his hand lifted to her hair and stroked it away from her face. ‘Swim naked?’
‘No.’ Her words were muffled against his chest. ‘Be myself. Be invisible for a night. Be able to do what I want, with who I want, without thinking of the consequences. When I was a kid I just wanted to run off and assume another identity.’
‘You didn’t want to be an actress?’
‘I loved the acting. I hated everything that went with it. And I hated that all I was to my mother was a meal ticket.’
‘She was ambitious for you.’
‘No, she was ambitious for herself. She was determined I’d live the life she’d wanted and hadn’t had. She didn’t want me to make any of the mistakes she’d made. She controlled everything I ate, everything I did, everyone I saw. Even the big Hollywood studios were afraid of my mother. She mapped out a path for me. She decided which parts I’d take, who I could be photographed with. And she played the media.’ Taylor rolled onto her back and stared up at the stars. ‘She’d start rumours, anything to make sure my name and face were always in the press. I felt suffocated. Stifled. The only thing I never felt was loved.’