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She answered by lifting her hips again. And again. Until he was groaning, holding her against him, moving inside her, faster, harder, harder …
Isabella screamed with pleasure.
And Rio threw back his head and flew with her into the night.
Time passed.
Rio’s face was buried against Isabella’s throat. The delicious smell of her—woman, soap, sex—was in every breath he took.
It was the most alluring scent he’d ever known.
And, Dio, he was going to crush her if he didn’t move. But when she felt him start to shift his weight, she tightened her arms around him.
“No,” she whispered. “Stay with me, please.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’m just afraid I’m too heavy for you.”
“You’re not. I just—I just want—”
He rolled to his side without letting go of her, tucked her against him, his arms holding her fast.
“Me, too,” he said gruffly, and kissed her mouth. She sighed; the soft sound, the whisper of her breath, filled him with pleasure. “You okay?”
She nodded. Her hair slid over his skin like silk.
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to go so fast—”
Isabella put her fingers lightly across his lips.
“You were wonderful.”
“Yeah?” He smiled. “Not that I’m looking for compliments—” She gave a soft laugh and he brushed his mouth over hers. “You’re what’s wonderful, cara.”
“You’re making me blush.”
Rio grinned, propped his head on his hand and looked down at her. It was true. Her face, kissed by starlight, had turned a soft shade of pink.
“I know it’s silly, after—after we just had—”
“After we just made love,” he said, his voice rough.
She nodded, traced the lines of his face with her fingertip.
“You have a scar on your chin.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, sucking her finger into the heat of his mouth.
“How did it happen?”
He shrugged. “I do some boxing. Not professionally,” he added quickly, when her eyes widened. “Just to work out.”
“It’s very sexy.”
He grinned. “So is the way you blush.”
She smiled up at him. It made him want to kiss her again. Make love to her again. Bring her to the edge of the universe and hold her there before letting go.
Great.
His thoughts were turning him hard. An out-of-control lover. Just what she didn’t need.
But he couldn’t resist giving her one more kiss. And then another. And another …
She moved against him.
He groaned, leaned his forehead against hers.
“No. It’s too soon—”
Her hand slipped between them. “Is it?” she said in tones of absolute innocence.
Cristo, she was teasing him. And he loved it.
Another little packet. Another condom. Then he gave a low growl and drew her to him, brought her leg high over his hip and slid into her.
Isabella moaned. Kissed him. Bit lightly into his lip.
This time, he set a harder rhythm. She met it, matched it, and he caught her by the waist, brought her on top of him, watched her face, her eyes as she rode him.
At the end, she collapsed against him.
They fell asleep that way, her body covering his, his arms holding her tight.
Isabella came awake with a start.
She was in a strange room. A room swathed in darkness save for a sliver of light at the far end.
Her heart leaped into her throat.
The sliver of light grew. It was from a door, and the door was opening to reveal a tall, dark figure …
“Isabella?”
The breath whooshed from her lungs.
“Matteo,” she said in a shaky whisper.
Of course. She was in Rio D’Aquila’s house, in Matteo Rossi’s bed.
“Sweetheart. Did I startle you?”
She sat up, holding the duvet to her throat.
“What time is it?”
Matteo came to the bed, made quick work of the duvet she held and drew her into his arms. God, the feel of his skin against hers …
“It’s four-something in the morning.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Forgive me, cara. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He smelled wonderful. Man and sex. And, of course, Matteo. She thought of how his skin would taste if she nipped his shoulder, of what he would do if she put her hands on his chest and pushed him down backward on the bed.
“Hey.” He reached for a long ebony curl, let it wind around his finger and gave a gentle tug. “What are you thinking about?”
Isabella cleared her throat. “Just that—that it’s fine that I’m awake. I have to get up anyway.”
“Ah,” he said matter-of-factly. “Sure. Let me get you my robe. The bathroom is chill—”
“No. I mean, it’s time I got up.”
“It is?”
She nodded.
He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up.
“Why?”
“Well, because—because—”
She frowned.
It was a good question. She’d made love with this man. Twice. She had slept with him, literally. Draped over him—she remembered that—naked skin to naked skin. And she was going to leave his bed because it was four in the morning and instead of making love, they were having a conversation?
Why, indeed? she thought again …
And giggled.
“Isabella Orsini,” Matteo said sternly. Gently, he pushed her back on the bed and came down above her. “Are you laughing?”
She shook her head. “No,” she gasped, and giggled again.
“Laughter. Just what a man wants to hear after he’s made love to a woman.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.” His tone softened; a devilish grin lifted the corners of his lips. “I’m glad.”
Isabella smiled.
“So am I. This was—”
“Indeed it was,” he said solemnly, but he spoiled it with another quick grin.
She smiled. “I don’t know if I can move.”
“Good. I don’t want you to move. Well, not for a little while, anyway.”
Sighing, she wrapped her arms around him. Crazy, he knew, but that she wanted his weight on her like this made him happy.
“Matteo?”
“Mmm?”
Isabella put her hand against his jaw. His skin was bristly with early morning stubble. It felt masculine and sexy, and she thought of how wonderful it would feel against her breasts.
“Of all the things I ever thought about—about sex—”
“About making love,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “I never imagined feeling so, well, so happy afterward.”
Her words, her simple honesty, made his heart swell. He turned on his side, gathered her against him and pressed a kiss into her hair.
The thing was, he’d never imagined feeling like this after sex, either. Sated? Sure. Relaxed? Of course. Content? Yes, absolutely.
But happy, to use her word …
Not like this.
And happy was the wrong word. What he felt was bigger than that, deeper, more intense.
Much more intense, he thought, and he gave her a quick kiss and sat up.
“Okay,” he said briskly. “Here’s the schedule.”
“Oh, God.” Isabella gave a dramatic sigh. “I hate schedules!”
He grinned. “Now, why does that not surprise me?”
“See, I like the part where you draw up the schedule.” She sat up, too, wrapped her arms around him from the back and sighed. “It’s the carrying out part I’m not good at.”
A moment ago, establishing emotional distance had seemed important. Now, turning around, taking Isabella in his arms and smiling at her was what mattered.
