by Lori Wilde
But she had to admit that Wyatt made a good point. By avoiding Twin Hearts, she was letting the legend control her life just as surely as the romantics allowed it to control theirs. So even though it made her uneasy, she agreed to go.
They took a Bella Notte van but ended up having to park half a mile away on the side of the bluff because the parking lot was jam-packed.
“I told you,” Kiara said. “It gets crazy around here on the full moon in June. The peak is littered with lovers. It’s not going to be the least bit private.”
“We’re here in defiance, remember?” Wyatt reached out to squeeze her hand. “To prove there’s no such thing as the Romano myth. Besides, Maurice told me the secret spot that’s off-limits to tourists.”
“You told Maurice you were bringing me up here?”
“Course not. I just asked where the Romanos go for their romantic full-moon liaisons. He told me where the Romano property line ends, and public access begins.” He reached into the back seat for the blanket and a brown paper bag.
“You brought wine!”
“We can’t disprove the myth if we don’t follow it to the letter.”
“It makes me nervous.”
“If it’s only a myth, you have nothing to worry about, right?” He was too damned convincing with his adorable smile and winsome eyes.
Yes, all right, so why did she feel so vulnerable? Hope, that damnable thing, was nibbling around the edges of her mind. The romantic Romano soul clashing with Kiara’s scientific mind.
It wasn’t until they were halfway up the bluff, picking their way past picnickers feeding each other, opening bottles of Decadent Midnight, kissing under the bright light of the full moon, that she realized part of her secretly wanted to believe it was all true.
“There’s no such thing as Santa Claus,” she muttered under her breath like a child whistling in the dark to prove she’s not afraid.
“Maybe not,” Wyatt whispered. “But there is the spirit of Christmas.”
“All these people.” She swept her hand at the blankets and lovers spread out across the field. “If they end up staying together for the rest of their lives, it’s just a self-fulfilling prophecy. It’s got nothing to do with Idyll or bottles of wine or a full moon.”
“What’s wrong with that? I think it’s amazing how this island and your family gives so many people hope for a lasting relationship.”
It was a very noble thought. She had to admit that.
“What is it that you’re afraid of, Kiara?” Wyatt said. “Everyone in your family is living the myth. They’re all happily married.”
“That’s a myth too. No one is happily married all the time. Like when my dad was diagnosed with cancer.
It was incredibly heartbreaking to see my parents go through that. They loved each other so much that the thought of losing each other tore them apart. Love makes you weak.”
“Whoa.” Wyatt backed up, angled his head, and stared at her in the moonlight. “I get it now.”
Kiara wrinkled her nose in irritation. “What is it that you think you get?”
“You’re afraid of the power of that kind of love. You think it would obscure your objectivity.”
“It would, but that’s not the reason I don’t believe. I don’t believe it because it’s not true. Love is nothing more than body chemistry. It makes people...” She paused and made air quotes with her fingers. “...fall in love.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“The chemicals fade. Time passes.”
“The relationship cements.”
“And what does cement do but drag you down?”
“You really are terrified of falling in love.”
“You’re not?”
“Not anymore.”
They were at the very top of the peak now. There was a wooden fence marking the edge of the Romano land. There was a Private Property sign posted.
“This way,” she said, ducking under the fence and pulling Wyatt along with her.
They walked until they could no longer hear the conversations of the other people on the bluff.
“How about here?” Kiara said, stopping in a grove of olive trees.
The full moon was high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over everything. It filtered through the olive trees, bathing Wyatt’s face in shadow. He nodded and spread out the blanket.
Kiara lay down on the blanket beside him, remembering what had happened the last time they’d lain on a blanket together. “Okay, let’s do this myth-busting thing. Open up the wine.”
“You sure? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“I’m here. Might as well take the plunge.”
He uncorked the wine, then looked at her. “What if the myth is true? Would you still want to take the plunge?”
“We barely know each other.”
He reached out and tapped her heart with his index finger. “You know me.”
That made her suck in a deep breath. “Are you saying follow my instincts?”
“Animals follow their instincts. That’s pretty scientific.” He took a sip from the wine, then passed the bottle to her.
“There’s really no way other than instinct.” She took a drink and passed it back as if they were taking some kind of bizarre communion.
“Just go with it.”
“That could be emotion. There’s a big difference between emotion and instinct.”
“Man is an emotional being.” He took another drink and passed the bottle again.
“True enough, but emotions aren’t logical.”
“Doesn’t stop people from feeling them.”
Kiara took her second drink. Then reached for the cork on the blanket. “There,” she said. “It’s done. Feel any different?”
The moon was at its zenith now. Fat and round, the color of Swiss cheese.
“Yep.”
“How’s that?”
“I want you ten times more than I wanted you before we drank the wine.”
“Now is that the moon or the alcohol talking?”
“Neither,” he said, leaning in close. “It’s one hundred percent Kiara.”
He held out his arm, and she just rolled into his embrace, the smell of wine and summer love in the air. He brought her snug against his chest, and time slowed to this one perfect moment under the full moon in June with the man who made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt.
She heard her heart pounding, felt his beat a corresponding rhythm through the material of his shirt. She planted a kiss on his neck, then traveled up to find his earlobe. His familiar scent filled her nostrils, then reached down and caressed her lungs.
Wyatt.
She wasn’t sure how much of this feeling she could stand. It was too strong, too wild, too un-Kiara-like. She was accustomed to being confident and in charge. Being with Wyatt was like taking a bulldozer to the elaborate sandcastle you’d spent fifteen hours building on the beach.
But oh, how she wanted him. And that’s what scared her most of all. This desire—burning, raging, out of control. She knew for certain this feeling was what she’d been avoiding.
Wyatt made her feel real. And she simply didn’t know what to do about it. He could break her so easily. Shatter her heart clean in two.
She saw a shadow of something in his eyes. Where do we go from here? Is it time? Is it right? Should we just take a leap of faith and jump? How do we keep from hurting each other? The questions poured in on her, but she did not speak her doubts aloud.
Wyatt was spur of the moment, free as the wind. He didn’t have the restriction of family.
He reached out and took off her glasses, then removed his own and set them to one side. Then he kissed her. Slow and sweet.
Kiara felt the tingle all the way to her toes. He made her feel exposed, raw. He was dangerous. She was accustomed to being strong, in control, in charge. With one well-placed kiss on top of Twin Hearts, he took it all away.
His teeth nibbled her earlob
e, and he tightened his grip. “Do you like that?”
She whimpered. “Yes.”
“Mmm, good to know. I love how you smell, the way you taste, salty, yet sweet. That’s the way of you, Kiara, tart-tongued at times, but it’s only to hide that tender heart.”
He skimmed his hands up underneath her blouse, his palms slipping over skin. His fingers skated around to unhook her bra, and the next thing she knew it was off her, flung across the blanket.
Wyatt took her breath, and her wandering thoughts, when he ensnared her lips with his hot, wet mouth and sucked her skin. Radiant heat mushroomed outward, across her shoulders, headed pell-mell for her breasts.
Her pulse leaped, bounded. Her nipples tightened. She reveled in the luxury of his embrace and took a deep breath. She inhaled the pure essence of Wyatt.
He lowered his sultry lids halfway. Lust for her burned in his eyes, stiffening his erection.
“Do you want me to stop now?” he whispered. “Have we gone too far? Are you out of your comfort zone?”
She could back out. End this here. “I’m comfortable.”
He felt so good. She felt good. What he was doing felt wonderful. Everything about this man made her want to beg for him.
Take me, take what you want, leave me scorched to the ground, bare and burned and savagely sated.
“What’s your pleasure?” he whispered.
“You,” she whispered back. “I want you.”
He nibbled her throbbing pulse points. The sensation sent aching spikes of awareness flooding her entire body.
She moaned softly.
His thumbs brushed lazily against her nipples, tightened the already stiff peaks, driving her crazy. Her breath hung up somewhere between her lungs and her throat. No air, just the smell of Wyatt.
The moon was so bright, so intense it felt as if it was shining just for them. She thought of the generations of Romanos who’d come up here, drunk wine, made love, vowed their undying love. She and Wyatt were part of history, part of tradition. A tradition she’d resisted even though she did not know why.
Tenderly, they undressed each other and shared slow, soft, wet kisses. They were in their own utopia, just the two of them, blissed out on each other. Needing nothing, no one but themselves. Their own little world.
Her hands were on the hem of his T-shirt, dragging it up and over his head. Bye-bye, T-shirt. Hello, hard-muscled man. She whistled in a breath, tracing shaky fingers over his chest.
His hands wrestled with her dress, undid the buttons, and tugged it from her body.
Then they were naked, pressed skin to skin, chest to breast. A raw, nagging twinge bloomed between her thighs. Her hands were cold against his heated belly.
Things were advancing, getting heavy. Doubts crept in. She’d wanted this. Dreamed of this for weeks. What if she couldn’t please him? What if she was lousy in bed—er, blanket on the ground?
“Stop it,” he chided.
“Stop what?”
“Thinking. You’re thinking too much.”
“How do you know?”
“You always think too much.”
“Always is a broad generalization.”
“Okay, you think too much ninety percent of the time.”
“Maybe you don’t think enough.”
“That’s highly possible,” he said amicably. “But just stay here with me in the moment. We’ll never have this time again.”
He was right. He was so good at making her appreciate what was right in front of her. She loved him for that. And so many other things.
Love.
Okay, she’d admit it. She was falling in love with him. She should be scared, right? But instead...well, she felt free. She wasn’t ready to tell him yet. Wasn’t ready to weigh the implications of what this meant.
Especially in regard to the myth they were supposed to be busting, but she couldn’t deny what she was feeling any longer. She’d tried to hide it from herself, but it was a useless exercise. She felt what she felt.
Wyatt.
She reached up to trace his cheek with her fingers, and he peered deeply into her eyes. He looked up at her in total awe. The light in his eyes shook her very soul. The pleasure of his words, the expression of pure gratitude on his face toasted her skin, warmed her heart. He pressed his cheek against her belly, blew lightly across her skin. Goose bumps cropped up, making her giggle.
“I love to hear you laugh. It’s the best sound in the world.”
“You have a much better laugh.”
“Yours is worth more because you don’t use it as often.”
“Interesting point of view.”
They lay down on the blanket, then their hands got busy exploring. They strummed and played. Tongues and teeth. Lips and noses. Tickles and feather-light touches.
He kissed the pulses under her chin, and it made her throb. She nibbled the sensitive skin on the underside of his arm, and he shuddered. He licked the back of her knee. She ran her tongue over his collarbone.
They teased and stroked, kneaded and caressed until they had both reached a frantic pitch, perspiring, breathing heavily, aching to the bone for release.
His thumbs brushed her nipples, and she let out a hungry moan. Had she ever felt a pleasure this delicious?
She was overpowered, overwhelmed, overcome, over-everything. “I’ve gotta have you or lose my mind,” she rasped.
“C’mere,” he said and pulled her on top of him so that she was straddling his waist.
She was ready and slick and slid easily over his rock-hard shaft, merging her body with his.
“Kiara.” He breathed out a heavy sigh as she sank onto him.
She glanced down at him. The big man underneath. She was in control. He was letting her have her way, and he was staring at her with adoring eyes.
Now, now, gotta have him. Can’t wait, can’t stop, can’t think, can’t breathe.
She moved over him.
Wyatt groaned.
She slid back and forth over his lean, hard-muscled body. Friction hardened his shaft, heated her.
He threw his head back, his dark hair spilling over the blanket, his exposed throat gone stark-white in the full moonlight. She rocked against him, gliding and rolling in a sweet rhythm.
Wyatt raised his head, pulling her down lower so he could capture one of her pert nipples with his mouth and gently tug at her with an erotic suction.
While he was doing that, she reached down to cup him in her palm with the lightest of pressure.
He jerked and groaned. “You keep that up, this will be over in no time.”
The night breeze cooled their heated skin. The full moon bathed them in a splash of vineyard light. The olive tree branches creaked.
He rocked his hips in time to her movements. She stared into his face, got lost in his chocolate eyes. She quickened the pace, sliding up, then falling back, riding the length of him again and again.
“My turn to be in control now,” he said, then grasped her around the waist and flipped her over while they stayed connected.
In and out. He moved slow and sure. Their bodies undulating as he kissed her. Their souls tied, bound, connected.
Every nerve in her body was alive, on edge.
His movements quickened. From slow to staccato, thrusting into her deeper, higher, faster. He was on fire. A wild man. But no wilder than she. He pushed her legs up over her head, opening her wide, entering her as deeply as possible, pounding her hard.
“More,” she cried. “More. Harder, faster.”
Slow and leisurely was over. He was moving at her speed now, pumping into her with vigorous intensity.
They spun, twisted, turned, lost in the whirl of magic and passion, caught up in mythology, lore, and the reckless legend of love.
She finally let go when the orgasm overtook her. His noises were as rough and loud as her own. Their bodies jerked in unison. And as they came, they cried each other’s names over and over. They clung together, thanks to the moon and mi
st and decadent midnight.
11
When Kiara awoke, the moon had disappeared, and the faint fingers of sunrise had begun to tickle the eastern horizon.
Where was she? What had she done?
She jolted to a sitting position, raising a hand in a pathetic attempt to cover her nudity. Wyatt lay stretched out beside her, sleeping soundly.
The bottle of Decadent Midnight lay on the ground.
The implications of what they’d done struck her hard. She wasn’t ready for this. Last night she’d been swept away. The light of day—
The Best of the Best Award!
It was today. In Sonoma. An hour’s ride by ferry and then a good three-and-half-hour drive. The judging was at two p.m., but the contestants had to check in by noon.
And it was…she glanced at her watch.
Five o’clock.
She gritted her teeth at the silly watch, then guessed it really must be close to five a.m. She needed to get moving, get back to Bella Notte, get the wine loaded and get to Sonoma by noon.
She got dressed, uncertain what to do about Wyatt. She wasn’t ready to talk to him. She needed to process her own feelings first. Her mind raced ninety miles an hour, and none of her thoughts were making much sense. Only one thing came through loud and clear.
Get to Sonoma.
She stuck her glasses on her face and took one last look at him. He was indeed magnificent. Her heart clutched. Was she in love with him? For so long she’d denied such a thing was possible, and now she was in the middle of it.
Get to Sonoma.
Yes. She had to go. Wyatt could wait. The Best of the Best Award could not.
Wyatt awoke dazed and disoriented.
The sun was pushing over the top of the bluff. The night mist off the water disappeared in the wake of the sun’s rays. The ground was damp and so was the blanket.
He shivered and reached for Kiara to pull her closer, warm her with his body, but he came up with a handful of air.
Blinking, he sat up, trying to remember what had happened. They’d drunk the wine. Made love under a midnight moon in June.
His heart skipped a beat.