I hope he’s meeting someone wonderful here, Amber thought. I hope the love of his life is waiting for him in a room almost as romantic as this one. I want everyone to be as happy as I am right now . . .
She might never have come to Venice before. Everything was new, everything perfect; it was as if she was seeing all this beauty for the first time. On the Grand Canal, a vaporetto passed, its wash causing the motor taxi below to rock as it backed slowly away from the hotel pier, its shiny wood and chrome trim glinting in the gentle light cast by the hotel lamps. The sun had set; the statues surrounding the basilica of Santa Maria della Salute, the detailed carving around the windows and belltowers, were fading against the sky, which glowed in a watercolour wash of deep blues and purples, tinged at the edges with gold.
The house next to Ca’ Maria Adele, just over the little iron bridge, was covered with wisteria, thick green foliage heavily laden with clusters of mauve blossoms hanging down, reflected in the dark water below, filling the air with an intoxicating scent of honeyed vanilla. Amber breathed it in deeply, her head spinning with the perfume, and just then a different, equally rich scent came pouring out of the bathroom behind her, as its door opened: lemon and mandarin, the sweet fresh citrus smell of body wash and soap.
Turning round, she stretched her arms along the stone balcony, and a smile of pure happiness flooded over her face as she watched Raf emerge from the bathroom, wearing a white waffle robe, rubbing his hair with a white towel, his Mediterranean skin dark gold by contrast. He padded towards her across the tiled floor.
‘I thought of running a bath,’ he said. ‘I figured, we have a room with a Jacuzzi, we should definitely use it. Can I persuade you to take a bubble bath with me? God.’ He looked around briefly at the bedroom, its walls upholstered in the same white and blue brocade that covered the gilt chairs and the high bed, hung with gold-framed mirrors, white-painted statues of Moors holding lamps in the far corners of the room. ‘This place is amazing. I never want to leave.’
He stepped out onto the balcony.
‘But you know,’ he said, looking at her, ‘as far as I’m concerned, we didn’t need to come to Venice. We could have stayed back in California. Because we might be in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, staying in a room like something out of a museum, but all I can really see is you.’
Amber reached up, winding her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her.
‘You’re going to make me cry,’ she said against his mouth.
‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘No more compliments, then. Not if they’ll make you cry. No more tears.’
Their kiss was long and deep, and as drugging and heady as the scent of wisteria in the air. Amber wanted it to go on for ever. Still kissing him, she slid her hands down his body, finding the tie to his robe, undoing it and pulling the robe open, pressing herself against his naked body, inhaling the scent of his skin under the citrus of the body wash.
‘Jesus, Amber,’ he sighed, as her hands slipped down further, finding him already hard, ‘you’re going to use me up and wear me out.’
They had had sex already that day, waking up in a heavy daze of jet lag, weighed down by the brocade covers of the bed, reaching for each other still half-asleep; slow, drugged, it had been like making love underwater, lying side by side, his leg thrown over her hip, his fingers between her legs making her come over and over, like the water of the canal lapping at the pier below them as he rocked inside her, finally coming in a long, drawn-out shudder of pleasure against her back, falling back to sleep in the same position.
They’d woken up to bright Venetian afternoon sunshine, starving for a late lunch; gone out to a little local restaurant to eat a feast of sardines cooked in vinegar and raisins, tiny fried crabs, risotto, black and rich with squid ink, lemon sorbet and sweet polenta biscuits. They’d walked over the Rialto bridge, bought the obligatory souvenir of a Murano glass bowl, got lost in narrow back streets, and finally taken a water taxi back to the hotel to fall asleep again, overwhelmed by sunshine and jet lag and happiness.
‘I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for,’ Amber pointed out, wrapping her fingers around him, twisting and stroking in a way that made him groan deep in his throat. ‘All those years before I met you. All those years having sex with people I didn’t choose.’
Twilight had come, night was falling; it was too dark on the balcony to see Raf’s expression properly, but she could hear the laughter in his voice as he said: ‘Well, you certainly chose me.’
‘I did,’ Amber said with great satisfaction. ‘I chose you. I knew I wanted you as soon as I saw you. You were the first thing I ever truly wanted in my life.’
‘And I chose you,’ Raf said, cupping her face in his hands, kissing her lips softly.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said, her fingertips playing up and down the length of his cock, teasing him, drawing him slowly closer and closer to her. ‘When we get back to LA, I want to train as a counsellor. To work with recovering addicts. I know it’ll be a long process, but I want to try. Do you think I’d be any good at it?’
‘I think you’ll be amazing,’ he said, letting her pull him towards her till his cock pushed up eagerly between her legs, ‘but – God – can we please talk about this later?’
‘Of course,’ she said demurely, slipping up to sit on the stone edge of the balcony, widening her legs, adjusting herself so his cock could start to slide inside her. ‘I just thought I’d ask if you thought it was a good idea—’
‘Amber,’ he said, gripping her hips, pushing further up, ‘as long as I’m inside you, you could tell me you wanted to become an astronaut, and I’d say it was the best damn idea in the world—’
‘Sssh!’ She put her hand over his mouth. ‘We’re outside – people might hear us.’
He slid his hands under her bottom, lifting her fractionally, his cock driving right up inside her, filling her completely; she gasped and clung to his neck for balance, her eyes closing in ecstasy.
‘Shall I carry you back in the room?’ he whispered, looking over her shoulder at the Venetian night, the shadowed church beyond them. ‘No one’s going to see us in the dark, but—’
‘No! Don’t move!’
She wrapped her long legs around his waist, tilting back to get the exact angle she wanted,gasping again in sheer pleasure as she found it.
‘God,’ he whispered, starting to rock in and out of her, finding his rhythm.
‘Sssh . . .’
Amber slid her fingers between her legs, as his hands were fully occupied in holding her on the balcony edge, and almost as soon as she touched herself, she started to come. A gondola poled into the canal below, the long slow strokes of its single oar in the deep water echoing what Raf was doing to her, driving back and forth, bringing her to an orgasm that seemed to last for ever, rising and falling with every stroke of his hips meeting hers.
‘I’m going to come,’ he whispered in her ear, his grip tightening on her hips, his cock swelling inside her. ‘You’re going to make me come . . .’
She pushed down against him, hearing him groan as he finally let go, feeling him surge up inside her, coming again herself as he did.
In my wildest dreams, I never thought I would have this. In my wildest imaginings, I never dared to hope that I would be in Venice, making love with Raf on a balcony. Feeling him come inside me.
His arms were tight around her, his biceps swelling as he held her. She pushed her face into his shoulder, and, despite what he’d said about her crying, she let the tears come, dampening his skin, feeling a total release of emotion wash over her, her body utterly relaxed, her eyes closing.
‘Oh, Amber,’ he said a little reproachfully, as he realized she was crying. ‘Baby, I said no more tears, didn’t I? I love you! We’re so happy! Please don’t cry!’
‘I know,’ she said, blinking them off her eyelashes, as he freed one hand to use his thumb to wipe the tears away. ‘And I love you too, Raf.’ She reached up t
o kiss him.
‘I’m just crying because I’m so happy!’ she said, sobbing. And then she started to giggle at what she’d just said, leaning her head into his shoulder, crying and laughing at the same time, as the water lapped against the pier below them, and the moon began to rise in the black velvet Venetian night sky.
Table of Contents
Cover
Praise for Rebecca Chance's debut novel DIVAS
Also by Rebecca Chance
Title page
Copyright page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Part One
Amber
Petal
Joe
Skye
Amber
Skye
Petal
Skye
Petal
Amber
Skye
Petal
Amber
Interlude
Part Two
Skye
Petal
Amber
Petal
Skye
Amber
Petal
Skye
Amber
Skye
Petal
Amber
Skye
Petal
Skye
Amber
Petal
Skye
Amber
Petal
Amber
Skye
Petal
Skye
Amber
Amber
Epilogue
Petal
Joe
Amber
Bad Girls Page 44