The Ultimate Risk. Chantelle Shaw
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blue sky as Lanzo had steered the luxurious motor cruiser he had chartered out of the harbour. His dark mood seemed to have disappeared, and he’d been charismatic and mouth-wateringly sexy, his faded jeans sitting low on his hips and his chest bared to reveal an impressive six-pack. Gina had watched him with a hungry yearning in her eyes, and her heart had raced when he had pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
They had cruised along the coast, picnicked in a secluded bay, and later he had made love to her in the cabin below deck. The sound of the waves lapping against the boat and the mewing cry of the gulls had mingled with his low murmurs of pleasure when he had stroked his hands over her trembling, eager body.
There had been one moment when her hesitancy had made him pause. ‘It’s not your first time, is it?’ he had asked with a frown.
‘No,’ she’d lied, terrified that he would stop if she admitted the truth.
But he hadn’t stopped. He had kissed her with a feverish passion that had thrilled her, and caressed her with gentle, probing fingers until she had been so aroused that when he had finally entered her there had been no discomfort, just a wonderful sense of completeness—as if she had been waiting all her life for this moment and this man.
The bathwater had cooled, and Gina shivered as she sat up abruptly and reached for a towel. She had not only give Lanzo her virginity that day, she had given him her heart—naïvely not realising that for him sex was simply a pleasurable experience that meant nothing to him. Now she was older and wiser, and she understood that desire and love were not inextricably entwined.
She would not be so careless with her heart again, she thought as she stared at her smudged reflection in the steamed-up mirror. In fact, since her marriage to Simon had proved to be such a mistake, she had lost all confidence in her judgement and wondered if she would ever fall in love again.
But she was not an over-awed eighteen-year-old with a head full of unrealistic expectations, she reminded herself. She knew Lanzo had desired her tonight, and she could not deny her fierce attraction to him. She could not allow her experiences with Simon to ruin the rest of her life, and perhaps a passionate fling with a drop-dead sexy playboy was just what she needed to restore her self-confidence after her divorce? she mused.
But much later that night, when sleep still eluded her, she acknowledged that only a fool played with fire and did not expect to get burned.
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