She’d seen the way he looked in his swim trunks that afternoon and she wanted to touch that broad chest. She wanted to explore his hard flesh, make him tremble with want. She wanted to draw this all out and enjoy every blasted second of it since she was facing a future of celibacy.

Damien’s own hands were busy unzipping the back of her dress. But whereas she was fumbling, overeager, nervous, he was quiet, studied, intent. Goose bumps rose on her flesh as his fingers trailed over her back. His room was at the end of the hall, remote, the sounds of the resort buffered by palm trees and flowering plants. The whirr of the ceiling fan and the uneven tempo of their breathing were the only sounds in the room.

All her doubts, all her concerns, fear about how she should behave and how he might react to her pregnancy, her body the way it was now, had all evaporated when Damien told her he hadn’t been with a woman in three years. She’d seen it then, what he had been telling her. That they both needed each other, just here, just now, to touch and taste and push on each other in uncomplicated pleasure.

She wanted that. She wanted him.

Buttons free, she spread his shirt and sighed as the palms of her hands caressed hard, warm muscle. “You have a lovely chest.”

His lip quirked up. “What a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Mandy glanced down and saw that with the zipper undone, her dress had slipped a bit, only to come to a crashing halt at her cleavage. Nothing could get past her newly blossoming breasts, and her plump flesh was bursting out of the top of her strapless bra.

“This isn’t my natural state, you know,” she told him, pushing his shirtsleeves down to his wrists. “Every day I wake up to find they’re a bit bigger, like I’ve taken an air pump to them.”

Damien’s thumb ran over the swell above her bra. “I like the end result.”

“Yes, well, easy for you to say.” Mandy gripped his wrist as his thumb brushed lower and lower, skirting her nipple. She gave a sound of disappointment. “But at this rate, I fully expect one day to roll over and have them clap.”

He laughed, expression relaxed and amused. “I love your sense of humor.”

She was about to tell him that back in England, at The Wycombe Abbey School for Girls, she’d been quite the comedic thespian, but she only had time to open her mouth before he ripped her dress down to her waist, and she promptly forgot how to speak.