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“Elise.”
“What?” I’m grinning, almost laughing. My blood whooshes in my ears as my whole body shimmers with lust.
He laughs, the sound strangled. He looks down, and so do I, and I’m kind of shocked to see how…visible he is. It’s pushing at the denim of his jeans. My cheeks heat up because I made that happen.
He kisses me another time, long and warm and deep, before pulling away again.
“Elise…”
“Sorry.” That’s a lie, though. I feel taut and throbby, hungry and impulsive. So shocked and unlike myself, but I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Nothing does except this very second.
His hand squeezes my arm lightly. “Don’t be sorry.”
“I’m not usually like this,” I say in a voice that shakes.
“Like what?” He smiles, and the look in his eyes makes me dizzy.
When I don’t answer, his hand rubs my arm and his lips brush my cheek. Then he scoots about a foot away from me.
His palm cups the bulge in his jeans, and I realize he’s gritting his teeth.
“Sorry,” I echo.
He laughs. “No.” He gives a shake of his head. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
My gaze sweeps up and down him, lingering for longer than it should on where his hand is.
“See?” His voice is so low it vibrates.
“I like it.”
My mouth falls open after I say that. But it’s the truth. I love the sight of him with his legs spread and that lustful but wary look on his face. I love where his hand is, how he’s holding himself—even as it makes my heart pound.
He mutters something—I think “fuck”—and then the boat shifts as he steps off the mattress and down into a space that I can’t see.Chapter SevenElise“Luca?” I lean forward through the opening that leads into a lower section of the hull. For a second, it’s so dark, I’m not sure where he is. Then he’s throwing me over his shoulder, hauling me into a larger, stepped-down space where I glimpse a kitchen and a love seat. He lays me on the love seat and steps back. He’s standing in front of a stove, shaking his head as he gives another choked laugh.
“Elise.”
“Luca.” I turn onto my side, propping my cheek in my hand so I can look up at him.
He rubs his forehead, and I think I see him smiling in the dark. “I don’t know what you want.”
Maybe not. His voice is kind of achy. I say, “Me either,” which is a lie. I summon all my courage, but I still can barely breathe as I say, “I want…you to kiss me again.”
He’s on me in a single stride, kneeling by the love seat, leaning over so his breath is warm on my cheek. His hands rove through my hair and his lips brush mine. Then he deepens the kiss—slowly.
I grip his shoulder and lick at the corner of his lips until he invades my mouth with his tongue. I shiver and wrap myself around him. My arm goes around his back, tugging so he rises up on his knees.
“Do you want me up there with you?”
“Yes.”
He crawls atop me, one knee settling between my legs…and then he leans down, sliding his hand into my hair, cupping my nape before he kisses me again—soft at first, and then it’s deep and hard and hungry. A moan slips from my lips and my back arches as all my cells riot with sensation.
“Che cosa vuoi, la mia dolce rosa?”
I find his mouth again with mine, kissing hard then breaking away. “Say it again.”
“Che cosa vuoi?” he whispers.
“The whole thing.”
“La mia dolce rosa. That means…my sweet rose.” His words are groans; his body trembles just like mine does. I wrap my arm around his back, pulling his chest down on mine.
“Elise.” He shudders.
“Sorry.” My voice quivers. “I want to feel you. Do you think that’s bad?”
“Non lo so. Anche io voglio quello.”
Then he presses his hips to my thigh. I can feel him, and he’s long and hard and stiff and…perfect. My hips lift. I want to press myself against him. I do, and he moans.
“Luca.” I hook a leg around his flank and shiver.
His eyes burn into mine. “Are you okay?”
I nod, thrusting my hips a little so I’m rocking against him. Oh my God, it feels incredible. My body flushes like a firework. I feel desperate…so, so hungry. Every time we rub together, he groans like it hurts.
He starts thrusting against me. I roll my hips, and the thrusts…I push up against him and he groans. His body tenses, and I feel him shudder. Then he’s panting, moving off me. I’m shocked as he stands and turns away from me.
“Oh fuck.” He’s holding his head.
“Did I—did something hurt?”
He groans, “No.” He turns back around to face me, one hand on his forehead. “Elise…you made me—”
His hand spreads over his pants, fingertips smoothing the fabric down around the outline of his erection.
