Luka held her, lightly at first, and they swayed to the rhythm as Maya wondered how it was possible that, even with nerves leaping, somehow he calmed her.
His jaw was by her temple and one hand was on her waist; the other held the hand that had drawn her to him.
The music was old and unfamiliar and even the language was hard to place.
‘Are they singing in Italian?’ she asked as a melody was etched on her soul.
‘No.’ Luka frowned. In fact it was an Italian dialect he did not know, but there was no chance though to dwell on lyrics as he held her in his arms. She commanded the focus of his senses.
All the tension of today, all the sad tales from Giovanni and the occasional reminders as to his difficult past simply dispersed as they danced.
Her body curved into his so readily, and he lowered his head just to inhale the scent of her hair. There he found summer and the memory of meadows and lying in the grass on a sunny day.
It had been surprisingly perfect for him too.
Luka lifted her chin so she could look at him. ‘This is so much better than going out,’ he said.
Luka answered her with a kiss, though not on her mouth. She closed her eyes as he kissed them and then moved along her cheekbone, and then at her ear he told her something else. ‘You turn me on.’
He did the same for Maya.
Luka then delivered a deep sexy kiss to her mouth that would have them banned from any dance floor. A moist, lingering, potent kiss. His fingers stroked her spine slowly down to its base as her hands moved up and held his head, feeling his thick hair beneath her fingers. She was surprised that she simply knew what to do and how to react to his touch.
And his touch was sublime.
The hand that wasn’t tracing her spine now stroked her breast, teasing her nipple as he swallowed the tiny gasps that came from her throat.
It was the most romantic night of Maya’s life.
Except Luka wasn’t really romantic and, of course, he was a man. And so, as his fingers expertly played her, as he hardened in response and pressed into her, there was more on his logistical mind—his jacket was downstairs!
If anyone could kiss while inwardly cussing, it was Luka.
He had all the tiny buttons of the back of her dress undone, she was wearing no knickers and the daybed was behind them.
‘I need to go downstairs…’ he regretfully told her. ‘I won’t be long.’
She was twenty-four and had waited a very long time for this moment. If Luka left, Maya knew that common sense would prevail and she wouldn’t lose her virginity to a man she had only met this morning.
Although from her hot writhing body, Luka would never guess that she was a virgin.
He didn’t want to break the mood for fear that she’d change her mind but for a moment sense won.
‘My jacket’s downstairs,’ he told her. ‘I don’t have anything on me.’
And Maya knew then that he would have had her in the stable—that Luka would have wriggled her out of her jodhpurs, all grubby and less than gleaming—yet it only served to turn her on even more. He wanted her.
‘I’m on the Pill.’ Maya did not explain the reason—that her job meant she had to know exactly her cycle. And she knew it was reckless, but hell, she felt reckless and wild and free at last.
And he knew too that her answer wasn’t good enough.
It never had been before.
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