‘I engage.’ Niccolo slid his hand along her thigh, underneath the flimsy sarong, and Sophie watched the bulge of that hand as it moved closer and closer to nudge the wetness between her legs.
‘I’m not talking about sex...’ Her voice was an unsteady rasp as he slipped his fingers under the swimsuit, and then slid one finger along her dampened crease.
Nothing fast, nothing urgent...just a steady tempo that first cleared her mind and then catapulted her body towards the inevitable build-up, the heated flush of a spiralling sensation that started low in her pelvis and then invaded every part of her until she could scarcely breathe.
There was no way they would be interrupted, but she knew that even if a member of staff was idiotic enough to interrupt them, nothing would be visible. They would just see the two of them lying together on a deckchair, staring out at the ocean, wreathed in only the silvery slant of a half-moon.
She clutched the arms of the deckchair and closed her eyes as she came on a long, low shudder of utter pleasure, her body rocking gently into his as she orgasmed against his questing finger.
She had to fight to control a moan as he withdrew his finger and whispered against her hair, ‘There. That was me punishing you for thinking too much. Did you enjoy the punishment? I’m guessing that you might have...’
He very neatly straightened the dishevelled sarong and then swore silently under his breath at the vibration of his mobile on the table next to the deckchair.
Sophie immediately gathered herself and sat up.
Work. Sure to be. And between Niccolo and work there could be no blurry lines. Not according to the role she was playing, the girl who was in it for fun and happy to walk away by mutual agreement.
He slid his long legs over the side and walked towards the railing as he answered the phone. He leant against the railing, his back to her, his body language relaxed as he stared out to the dark swells of the ocean, but that body language imperceptibly changed as he carried on talking, about who knew what because she couldn’t hear a thing. There was no inflection in his voice that could give her a hint, but something felt weird.
She wondered whether something had gone wrong with the deal but she doubted it. Everything had been signed off and Niccolo, she knew, would have been scrupulous about the details.
He was that kind of guy.
She dragged her eyes away and, sitting upright on the deckchair, she drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on them, looking out at the same dark panorama he was looking out upon.
Out of the corner of her eye she couldn’t help but watch him, though, and she tensed as he finally straightened and turned, hesitating just fractionally before walking slowly towards her.
When he sat down, his face, all shadows and angles in the diminished light, was serious.
‘That was Evalina.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Panic made her lean forward as he sat heavily at the end of the deckchair. ‘Is your father all right? Is it bad news?’
‘His recuperation has been nothing short of miraculous,’ Niccolo assured her, ‘to the extent that he and my mother have decided that a cruise somewhere to aid his speedy recovery would be an excellent idea.’
‘A cruise? Are they planning on coming to the yacht? Here?’
She squinted into the darkness and looked around, and Niccolo, watching her closely, wondered whether she expected to see his parents lurking with a couple of suitcases behind the teak bar or emerging from under some cushions.
‘This isn’t quite what they have in mind,’ he told her, with a small smile. ‘Their idea of a cruise involves many more people around them on a boat five times the size.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘It’s very good. It also means that Evalina will be back in London by tomorrow evening.’
So what happens now?
Niccolo realised that that was a question he had been putting off answering since he had completed his deal.
But now it was a question that demanded an answer.
He didn’t want her to go. Was that selfish? It certainly hadn’t been part of their deal. Their deal had involved them returning to normality and leaving this wild nonsense behind when they left the yacht. But then again, in that scenario, the abrupt appearance of his aunt had not featured.
When he thought of her leaving, walking away...he felt a sense of loss and emptiness that had never been part of any scenario and he had no time for that.
Niccolo was uncomfortable with the assault of disturbing feelings and emotions that had no place in the cool and collected life he had built for himself, and he was silent for a few seconds, frowning darkly.
Sophie could feel every muscle in her body straining with sudden tension.